The Times They Are A Changin'

Recently I've been so uninspired by life. Not in a I'm-a-sucidal-person kind of way, but just nothing has given me that oomph that you get first thing in the morning to get you up and going. I've just kind of been breezing through life the last few weeks, going to college, doing assignments, coming home, watching tv, eating, drinking (at weekends, not every day!), sleeping, then repeated day in, day out. Gets boring. Repetitive. I have a habbit of getting stuck in a rut. I get too comfortable with my current situation and I like to stay in my rabbit hole of life. So, to get myself out of my rabbit hole I decided recently to shake things up a bit. Nothing major, just things like hanging out with different people, taking new routes home from college, walking to places I wouldn't normally do. Trivial and crap, yes I agree with you, but when I decide to do something radical it generally has bad repercussions affecting the people I love most. But these little things are good for me, it stops me getting sick of seeing the same people day in day out, and I get to make new friends and go to new scenes and kiss new boys. Kind of exciting in a sad and superficial way.

Oh oh oh if you are knocking about Killiney some time you must go up Killiney hill. It's bloody huge, you can explore for hours, has deadly history behond it and when you reach the top of the hill after nearly suffering cardiac arrest, you can take great pleasure in the fact that you can see half of Dublin from the top, with breathtaking views and peace and serenity. It's my most favourite spot in the world and if I ever need to think or not think, I can be found pearched in a little knook in a rock overlooking the sea. Beautiful.

Oh oh oh OH oh... I recently copped onto the fact that I am a sleazy motel... Let me explain briefly. Motels are the kind of places that couples come across, have fun, frollicks and general hanky panky, leave, then never ever ever return to or think about again bar the thought that returns once in a long long while saying "ah that was a good night". I AM THAT MOTEL. Guys have fun, kissy kissy or whatever and flirts with me then say bye bye. And I'm not some type of freaking bunny boiler where I think if I kiss a guy I am going to bloody marry him or whatever, fuck it like I don't even want to have a boyfriend I have too much fun being single, but it's a nice feeling being wanted, eh? I'd like to feel that at some stage! Ugh I'm only moaning about this because I'm suffering from a Tesco Value vodka hangover. It feels like your brain is trying to push itself out from behind your eyes. Delish.

Anyways my little mumbling rant is over now. As you were.

Must get back to fashion blogging soon, just too fricken tired recently.

Happy Saturday

Living In Wonderland xo

You Think Me Rude But I Would Just Stand And Stare

I got my hair cut on Friday. Not a regular kind of cut where you go in and say "Oh just a trim to get rid of the split ends and some layers please", no no, I got the mother of all haircuts. And it was completely by mistake too. I asked to get it cut shorter than what I normally have (My hair was long with a thick fringe), and my hairdresser Sinead interpreted it as "cut it short". I was reading the OK! magazine or something like that, glanced up, and had a mini heart attack. I'm not a person who would normally freak out about these things, but it was just because I cannot honestly remember the last time my hair was that short. I felt so sorry for Sinead because I could see she was starting to panic because I was starting to panic, but then she calmed me down and basically told me to chillax the fricken kacks, and I did. She continued on and I sat there silently sweating bullets, and realised that it was actually quite nice. My mother, who was getting her hair done at the same time, sat down next to me and I counted the minutes until she copped on that I was next to her. She liked it, so I felt a bit more better about the whole situation.

In total I got about 6 inches cut off my hair, and the back is shorter than the front (I would say it's like the Pob but it's not and my hair is thicker and longer and nicer), and sort of resembles Elizabeth Taylor circa Cleopatra, but it's different and I like it. I also appreciated the fact that when I showed my friends they loved it and one of my besties Claire screamed at a pitch so high I honestly was waiting for glass to start smashing around me. So that was a good sign I guess. Either way it's about time I changed my hair I realised afterwards I have had the same hair style pretty much for the last 5 years or so. You need to get out of the ruts you've been letting yourself get stuck in and branch out and be bold and try new things. These are the days when we can get away with it all and look back in years to come and go "OH JESUS H. CHRIST WHAT WAS I FUCKING THINKING DOING THAT TO MYSELF WHY DIDN'T SOMEONE HAVE ME INSTITUTIONALIZED??". Ah yes, these are the days. Live them.

Pictures soon.

Night all,

Living In Wonderland xo