The Reality of Optimism

Optimism should be a clinical disorder. 

Oh you optimists, with your glass half full and your eager smile, pissing everybody off with your unadulterated enthusiasm. Well dear society, just because we’re not crying into our box of cream doughnuts about how we’re never going to lose weight, or moaning on and expecting the worst out of every pathetic situation, it doesn’t mean we’re physically unable experience disappointment. You may stop belittling us now. 

As an optimist, second only to blind naivety, disappointment is just about all you feel. 

If anything, we’re in a worse place in society than the pessimists. At least they’re open to sympathy, and don’t have to cover up their “downs” as desperately as us, like we’re residents of Wisteria Lane and a body has been discovered in the freezer. In life, we’ve set the bar so high, that instead of relief or joy, we’re doomed to an eternity of let-downs. With each and every disappointment, comes the birth of new hope, condemned to the same fate as the last. 

Usually, nothing can ever break our stride. It literally takes our optimism to be clawed onto the pavement and kicked in the teeth before we bother to sit down and think. Our perfectly plastered walls come tumbling in, that pretty, flowery wallpaper disguising all the cracks and holes rips to shreds, and we sit there, helpless, until the dust vaporises into glitter and we can click our fingers to redecorate. 

… I’m waiting for the glitter. The wallpaper is ready. 

Wherever I go, and whoever I meet, I’m constantly finding myself on the wrong end of the sympathy stick because of my outside optimism. It’s as though I can’t possibly have any worries because okay, eating those cream doughnuts won’t exactly make me balloon ten stone, or just because most of the time I shut my eyes and believe there’s light, when others only choose to see darkness. It doesn’t mean I’m incapable of faults, or that there aren’t any there at all. 

Sometimes people put up a wallpaper of optimism, because the truth is too ugly to explain. Pessimists, take note, please, because that’s the reality.

Tale of a Bucket... Or is it?

Dedicated to my Dad.

There was a bucket,
On a hill,
It's not there now,
It must have gone.

Born This Way Ball Jacket

As most Monsters do, I'm getting dressed up to see my favourite artist Lady Gaga when she goes on tour this year. Rumour has it that she'll be in England this summer, but I've been planning, designing, and making my outfit since the end of last year. Why so early? Because it's going to take forever to complete.

The star of my outfit will be my Born This Way jacket. From watching videos of the Monster Ball and footage of Gaga's performances, it's easy to notice her fans mimicking couture favourites and past video looks. I thought for my first concert, I'd combine both my favourite aspects of the Lady's fashion with my own sense of "style", you know, to make it original and fitting with the Born This Way message.

To start, I took inspiration from Gaga's amaazing studded leather jackets. These are two of my all-time favourites:

Left: 2011, MTV Music Aid in Japan. Right: "Telephone" video, 2010.

Excuse me while I wipe the saliva from my keyboard... Ahem, so, anyway, I adore her studded leather jackets and to be honest, all the other leather jackets in her wardrobe. The jacket I'm making however is denim, after also being inspired by the recent Marry The Night video and my favourite quote:

"You may say I lost everything... But I still had my Bedazzler."

In August last year on a whim I picked up a tight denim waistcoat from H&M in France. I wasn't too fussy about the quality for the first time in my life, so ended up spending less than £10 just for something cowboy-ish to wear while it was hot in a desperate attempt to tan my milky arms. Since coming home it's hung uselessly in my wardrobe as I transitioned to fully sleeved denim for English weather, until the idea to stud it for the Born This Way Ball magically struck.

My plan was to combine the studs from her leather and the denim from Marry The Night, to create my interpretation of a "Heavy Metal Lover" look. The shoulders are almost finished being covered in big, shiny, metal studs, and I'm covering the rest in patches inspired by Gaga songs and if I have room, the bands I love too. On the back, in big, bold, black lettering, is going to read BORN THIS WAY, ironed over the top of splashes of silver fabric paint. As a proud English monster, the first patch I've bought is a Union Jack to stitch right on the front. On the opposite side, I'm buying bronze studs and pressing an upside-down Judas-esque cross.

Here's a semi recent picture I took of my jacket so far. After planning and searching for the patches, measuring the jacket and getting ideas, I'm on my way in studding the shoulders and have purchased the first patch. More pictures of my progress to come! Wish me luck!

Tastes Like Mommy's Kisses!

If ANYONE gets that reference I'll reward them personally with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a reality TV house party.

Over the past couple of weeks I've found myself consistently on the verge of writing a post inspired by the shade thrown at Valentines Day through the internet. Why nowadays, is it the norm to ruin nice things? First it was Christmas, and now this. We don't need to be reminded about the commercial birth of the "holiday", and if you don't feel like buying any of the tacky crap, then don't, but please, don't ruin it for everyone else. We aren't all born with hearts of stone. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

My Valentines Day was different... but at the same time perfect. I spent most of the night awake, listening for my boyfriend to make sure he was comfortable and most importantly that he didn't choke in his sleep. He had two operations on Monday you see, so I've been his nurse for the past couple of days. During Valentines, I overcame my squeamishness by helping him clean his septum with a nasal douche and replaced his bloody bandages countless times. We went out, but only to the chemist to buy bandages, and then the supermarket for painkillers and grapes.

I think about how much I love him every day, but the fact that it was Valentines Day gave me an excuse to remind myself even more. No, we weren't enticed by tacky gifts or spent 24 hours dwelling on the fact that it was a... *gasp* commercial holiday, we instead spent time together, thought about each other, and enjoyed simply being around one another because we're in love. I don't understand why anyone would want to put a downer on a day to celebrate romance, even if it is just an extra excuse to say "I love you" aloud at times you would have just felt it inside.

The specialness of Valentines Day has been ruined by pessimistic people complaining about shallow gifts and stereotyping the style others celebrate the day. Please, make love, not war! Don't bring others into your pit of despair when they have chance to have a happy day.

Next Friday if he's feeling any better (and if I'm feeling any better too, since coming home I think I've gotten a head cold) we're going to go to a restaurant, and I get to give him the card I've had ready for a week or so. But... even if we do, it'll be on top of Tuesday, not instead of it. Staying in and being close to him on Valentines Day, feeling adored, is better than a meal anywhere in the world, even made by a Michelin star chef!

The Grammy's 2012

So, last night I stayed up alone until just about 2am watching various live streams of the 2012 Adele Awards. Excuse me? What was that? Oh, those were the Grammy’s?!

Flying the flag for England, our Adele managed to win a grand total of six Grammys out of six nominations. Now, she’s a talented women I’ll give her that; she’s brought soul to the masses in the same way that the late Amy Winehouse brought beehives and jazz.  As a lyricist I’ve got a ton of respect for the way she’s written so sensitively about the break-up of her relationship, and the way in which through that she’s pulled the heartstrings of so many millions of people across the world.

BUT:

I’ve got a bone to pick about Album of the Year. As always, nominated for the coveted award were musical A-Listers, such as The Foo Fighters and Lady Gaga, plus a couple of odd choices like that funny little Bruno Mars and then Rihanna (yeah, I don’t know either). The winner of said award was Adele, for her album 21.

Listen to me right, she’s got some brilliant singles, but after those 3 songs, the rest of the album is a bit of a bore. Every track is about the same break-up she’s singing about in Someone Like You, and if you manage to get through the whole thing all you feel like doing afterwards is eating 5 pints of Ben & Jerry’s and jumping off a bridge. This is where Adele irks me as a songwriter – she couldn’t simply write a beautiful song and be done with it, she had to tarnish her talent by repeating the same method for the rest of the songs on 21. It doesn’t show the skill an Album of the Year should.

It was sad that the awards ceremony was overshadowed by the hype the USA had piled on Adele’s shoulders. Even she looked overwhelmed and nervous during her acceptance speeches.  On the red carpet the only performer the guests were talking about was Adele, and also she’d been tipped to win all her nominations by every magazine online or off. Considering her humble beginnings, I was shocked to say the least about how for that night, she’d turned from national treasure to America’s darling. Where were they after she’d first released 19?

Compare 21 to the album I was routing for, which was Born This Way by Lady Gaga. In a year, from one album, Gaga has released 5 singles, 5 videos, had a Thanksgiving special, headlined in New York City on New Year’s eve, been around the entire world promoting at least twice, opened her own charity foundation inspiring youth bravery, while at the same time wearing heels higher than the Empire State building and keeping her flawless image intact.

If that wasn’t enough, the themes in Born This Way range from self-acceptance to relationships, and throughout the album Gaga preaches a positive message of love and unity. Like 21, there are unhappy themes, coming from dark caverns of Gaga/Stefani’s psyche, but instead of dwelling on her mistakes she moves on, triumphant, into the future. Sonically, Born This Way could be described perfectly as “Avant-guard techno rock”, however there are even country influences, electro pop, plus vintage 80’s references unusually suited yet mixed into the tracks too. This album feels more than an acoustic set and a melodramatic attitude, and instead is a fist-pumping, heart throbbing anthem for modern youth society. It’s a defining moment for pop culture, tied into 17 tracks of pure musical genius.

As a fan and a Little Monster, I can’t help but to feel cheated by America’s obsession with Adele and the farce which was the 2012 Grammy ceremony. I didn’t think for such a prestigious award the judges could have been so blinded by hype and popularity, yet I was wrong.

Worries

I’m a nervous wreck. 

A pacing, jittery, intensely worried young lady. These two men are responsible: 

1)     My puppy, Sonny. He’s gone and got himself pneumonia in the cold winter weather, and is so awfully ill that he’s been on a drip at the vets and has been touch-and-go for the past few days. He’s only 3 years old, the poor thing. I feel so helpless and upset that he’s ill and I can’t do anything about it but feed him medication and keep him warm. 

2)     My boyfriend. He’s going for an operation tomorrow and although it’s an in-and-out procedure, he’s still undergoing full anaesthetic and will be recovering for weeks. I can’t bring myself to think that it’s a good thing knowing he’ll be hurting afterwards and covered in big, purple, bruises. Just the thought of him feeling awful afterwards is bad enough, never mind what I'll be like as the operation is in progress.

I’m going to worry myself sick if I’m not careful.