Tour of Europe

When I think of traveling, I automatically think of all these luscious, exotic places to go. I'd sun myself on the beaches of California, and swim in a sea of turtles in Thailand, and then hold a Koala bear in Australia. But we always forget the places nearest to us in Europe.


Personally, I blame my hometown. When you grow up in a place that you grow to despise so much, when you think of traveling, you think of places to far away from England, they're halfway across the world. But I've been thinking lately, and they're the places I want to see.

I want to go to France and experience the culture and fashion. I want to stand underneath the Eiffel Tower, and this time appreciate what millions of tourists flock to see each year. I want to try frogs legs just to say I did so, and then spend the day heaving at the though of it.



I want to go to Italy ad pile on the pounds stuffing my face with delicious pizza. I want to visit the
Cinque terre villages because they look beautiful on the cliff side. I want to visit the Uffizi Gallery and appreciate the art inside. I want to see the Colosseum up close, and then I want to go along the Blue Grotto and witness the neon blue water firsthand.



I want to go to Amsterdam and visit the home of Anne Frank. I want to go to the flea markets and rummage. And then I want to go to the Red Light District and unleash my immature side as I giggle at the smutty sex shops.


I want to go to Scotland and just breath in the fresh air. I want to walk round and just take in the views and enjoy the scenery. I want to sit inside a small cottage whilst the rain pelts down from outside.


I want to go to Ireland and spend my time hauled up in small pubs, listening to live music. I want to go to Dublin Zoo and see the animals. I want to hear the cheeky accents and smile. Maybe even run into Jedward and give them a high five.

:)

For when you next read this . . . Hello :)

Dear, You;

Sometimes I look at you and wonder what it's like to kiss you. I wonder whether you're a slow, passionate kisser, or a more urgent one. I wonder whether you'd cup my face, or your hands would trace my skin, along my shoulder, down my back. Sometimes I wonder whether, when I'm looking at you thinking, 'You're so perfect' the way you look back at me is telling me the exact same thing.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'd met you first you'd be different around me. Like you don't feel this need to push me away when he's around, and if you'd treat me differently.

Sometimes I wish I could just tell you that whenever you brush past me, or touch my back, or tease me playfully, you give me goosebumps. And it's in those moments, there and then, that I want to turn round and just tell you, I like you, so much. When you ask me whether you look ugly today, I say yes because you never do, not even when you're hungover, and tired and look like a disheveled koala bear. I guess Freud and his reverse psychology psychobabble were spot on, so kudos to you, Sigmund.

And the most fucked up part is that you'll never know, because I'll never tell you just how much I like you. Partly because I know you'd push me away, even if you liked me. And secondly because I don't think I could handle the rejection if you did, because deep down, I think you do feel the same, and I don't want that shattered.

So, Dear You, if I were to ever tell you something, then it'd be this:

I could fall for a guy like you.

The Tragedy of My Life, sob.

"People always leave."
- [Peyton Sawyer, One Tree Hill]

Here it is, one of those tragically depressing blogs. In the words of P.Sawyer, people always leave, and I'm finding out how true those words can be. At this precise moment in my life, everything I'm used to is changing. For the last four years, my life has fallen into this monotone routine. The days I work and the days I go to University have been the only real change, besides my various hair colour changes. Nothing major has happened, and I've just been plodding along the road, expecting things to always be the same.
The first change is work. Some of the people that mean most to me at work are leaving, and it sucks because they've been there four years, the same as me, when we were seventeen year olds starting out in the depressing world of retail. And this year, we'll all be turning twenty one. It's time to get out of retail, or be stuck in it for good. And three have already jumped through that loop hole in the caged fence holding you there; routine.

Sarah, possibly the person I confide in the most at work departed retail on Saturday, and today was my first shift without her. I had no one to ask, 'What colour do you think I should dye my hair? I'm so bored of looking like a carrot.' I had no one to appreciate the passing hotties with, or hide away in the corner and scoff a packet of starburst with. And I guess today I was jealous. Jealous that she no longer has no endure snooty customers who think they have every right to talk to you like utter shit just because it's you in that cheap nylon uniform. Even though I wish her the best of luck, I just miss her.

And then there's Charlie. For so long I felt like I loved him, was absolutely obsessed with him, until one day I realised that he would never be that guy for me, the one I trusted and felt like I could be myself around because sometimes I'm not sure he even gets me. But I love that I'm still connected to him in some way, by going to work I have to see him, and I secretly like that, deep down. But now that's gone, and its sad because in a way, I'm not sure I'll ever really see him anymore after his last shift.

And then there's Matt, the brother. For the last twenty years, he's been a part of my every day life. We came home from school together, we'd fight over the computer back when it was 1p a minute and facebook wasn't yet invented and MSN was all the rage. And now he's still here when I get home from work. Sometimes we pass one another with the odd insult like, 'I will beat you up, you shitfuck.' But always with a smile.
And now he's going to Thailand for two months. Everything is booked, ready and waiting. He's finally doing what he's been wanting to do for so long, and I am so proud of him, yet there's a part of me, that despite longing to get my hands on his bedroom, that will miss him. More than I think he realises. I'll miss him because I always assumed he'd be here, in the same home as me until we were both rich enough to leave. But it's official, he's dipping his toes into the pool of real independence, and a part of me is scared that he'll come home from Thailand and that will be it. Everything will change for good.

So, at the moment everything is changing.
University is coming to an end, and after seventeen years of continual education, I'm finally free and it's scary that I now have to do something, I have no educational ties holding me back. I'm ready for the 'real world' so to speak.
Friends are stepping out of my daily routine, and will likely be replaced by people I can't stand.

But, because I don't want to end this on an even more depressing note, I'll share with you another P.Sawyer quote.

"Every song has an end, but that's no reason not to enjoy the music."



To my friends, good luck.
To my brother, be safe.
To retail, you suck even more.

Dear, Kai;

I don't hate you anymore.
I'm not saying I like you, I just don't hate you.
For ages, I carried round this grudge, and this resentment towards you for all you put me through. You were my first boyfriend. You were supposed to be my first love, the one I would always remember, but not because he manipulated me, and cheated on me.
But I realised today that those feelings are gone. At some point, I let them go, and now I don't feel this burning desire to push you into the bottom of the sea.
I guess I just accepted what happened as a learning curve, and as cliched as it sounds, it made me stronger, and I know I'll never again take shit from any man.

So thank you for that.

- Lo x

Tragedy of a Double Standard Society

Every day we open our papers and splashed across the tabloids are supposed celebrities, worshiped because we follow their every steps via reality TV. We hear stories about how a big shot footballer has cheated on his wife with a prostitute. We hear how he slept with the nanny. We hear about how she was the mistress of some multi-millionaire.
I opened the Sun today, and I read about how those ludicrously evil child killers, Robert Thompson and Jon Venables's identities have been leaked onto the net, giving millions access to their appearances years after their sickening crime almost eleven years ago. And do you know what sickens me the most? The fact that there is someone out there, someone with the power to bring these sick, twisted boys to face the public hatred they deserve, yet still grants them with a protection order, meaning they're giving entirely new lives.
Some may argue this is wrong, some may say they were young and deserved a second chance. But then I read that Jon Venables is back in prison due to child porn offenses, and I find myself wanting to scream at the person protecting their identities, why? You gave them a second chance, whether that was right or wrong, and they abused the privilege that was undeserving in the first place, to have a new life after committing such a cold, brutal murder without any remorse to young James Bolger.
And now there's uproar because their identities have been leaked onto the net, giving millions of people access to their current photographs, eleven years after their vile faces first hit our newspapers. And gagging orders are thrown out at tabloids to prevent them from printing the supposed images that were life-long banned from ever being shared with the public. And again, I ask why? These are two boys that took, without guilt, a young boys life, a boy who was meant to have a long future ahead of him. And then they prove that they've learned nothing, and haven't even grown remorseful of their actions, yet continue to cause more prison-able offences. And I'm telling you, that those two sickening boys lost the right for protection the day they took a life.
And the whole world should see exactly what they look like, because they're a danger to our society.

Dear, J.R.Cash

If I could make one invention, one that baffles the mind of inventors and scientists and leaves them in awe with my ability to create, then I'd build that time machine we always hear so much about. And I would use that to go back in time and to meet you when you were in your prime.
I would admire your ability to put so much raw emotion into even the simplest of lyrics.
I would travel back the 70s when I believe you were at you prime, and I'd be in those crowds you performed to, dancing wildly and cheering along.
I'd watch you perform with nothing other than love for the music you brought to the world.
And then I'd somehow put myself in your pathway so that I could tell you, your music saves lives, even now.

- Lo x