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Procrastinating Pre-30 Ramble

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ac3659e5d8c327a258129fc2073b70b6I discovered this quote the other day, prompting me to go on a miniature journey of self-discovery.

What would the 1,172 photos lurking in my phone’s memory say about me?

On occasion I will skim over my albums, just to pass some time when internet connection is low or to remind myself what I’ve actually done recently, but other than that I have never really properly looked at them and pondered what they say about me.

So, I decided to look over the last 6 months (nothing more because it would take me a month of Sundays!) to see what I supposedly ‘fear losing most’. And well, yeah, hmm, there were definite trends in my photos…among the myriad of curios and other miscellaneous visuals there were 3 things that according to the quote I am scared to live without:

  1. Orson
  2. My face
  3. Drink

Now I really didn’t know what to make of this… I mean, yep, I can completely understand Orson, my little chocolately bundle of insane is most definitely something I need in my life, he reminds me to be loopy and enjoy everything!! Especially food…

As for my face, I wasn’t sure how I felt at first… there was some momentary guilt that I was this crazy little narcissistic demon but after some further thought and staring into my own eyes, I decided I’m OK with it. I like my face. My brain can be a little chaotic most of the time…toing and froing, upping and down, inning and outing, your typical roller-coaster, but my face is always there; consistent, with all the bits where they should be and usually with a hint of a smile, and that helps me feel more confident even on my down days. I do spend a lot of time and money keeping my face looking, well, like my face. While yes, it’s nice to get appreciation from others, I do a lot of it for myself. It’s my own transportable canvas and I find the process of ‘tending’ to it completely calming.

And then there’s the drinks……….I have no explanation for this. I didn’t realise until I did this actually how many pictures of drinks I take. I’ve never thought they held any special significance to me, they’re just drinks! However, it appears I’ve held some undiscovered obsession for some time. Maybe they’re speaking to my inner-magpie; the sparkling colourful liquids, I need them. But then, in reflection my drinks are a very accurate indicator of my mood. Now that I think about it – all of my drink selections are based on how I feel. If I’m drinking tea during the day it means I’m feeling┬átired, tired and probably in need of a hug. Lucozade Orange is the red flag of a post-sleepless-night day; I’m probably going to be a bit dazed and scatty. Grenadine and lemonade is my happy drink and has been for 20 or so years. The list goes on but I won’t bore you with the details.

It’s been an interesting little investigation that’s probably going to leave me pondering things for the afternoon and thinking a little more about each click I take in the future. But for now, I’ll just leave you with this visual sneak-peak of the things my camera claims I fear losing.


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A Conversation with LBF…

WittyDi:“So… Laptop, Brain and Fingers, you’ve had the past 3 hours to create a magnificent essay, what do you have to show for yourself?”
LBF:“…Uhh… I umm… It umm…we umm… didn’t finish the essay…”
WittyDi:“No you didn’t… What did you actually accomplish?”
LBF:“……………………………….we used powerpoint to construct a 50 page, multiple choice, multiple scenario, quiz game show based on gender stereotypes based on a random infographic we found, for no purpose other than I found it amusing…….”
WittyDi: “Bravo, you imbeciles.”

The Inspirational Procrastination:

Any knowing my luck, no one is actually going to play the game now… Well, no one except me!

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Today we were walking through the cathedral grounds, I heard a helpless squeak and saw a crow swoop by with something in its feet, he landed in a tree, dropping what he had in his evil claws!
I saw a little mouse hobble away through the grass, exposed to the elements and the beady eyes of the crow peering down at him from the tree.

Well, I couldn’t very well leave the injured mouse to fend for himself (yes, even if it is the ‘circle of life’!). So I took off my cardi, picked him up, wrapped him up and held him to my chest (lucky mouse!!) while we made our journey home.

Luckily, my neighbours were well equipped with a variety of hamster cages, sawdust and food, and kind enough to lend it to me despite thinking I’m absolutely loco…

Cecil Jingles , seems quite the brave little soul, not scared of my face spying him through the plastic as he nibbles on a dried pea.

Unfortunately I’ve been told I’m only allowed to keep him until he is mended and then return him to his natural habitat. Hopefully, I can find him a nice girlfriend in that time…


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A Horse Named Stress

When I’m stressed I draw.

Well not draw – I wouldn’t say draw – more doodler.

I’m a prolific doodler.

To anyone around me that really knows me, it’s the warning light that I’m retreating into my own little bubble, pen in hand, scribbling ferociously, with my tongue clenched between my teeth, on every piece of empty space of paper, or skin. When doodling transfers to my arms, you know there’s a big storm brewing between my closed off ears.

It’s nice for everyone around me because they get a quiet WittyDi producing endless streams of amusing doodles but it’s bloomin’ annoying for me because I really like the stuff I produce when I’m stressed unfortunately I tend to only be able to create them when I am stressed.

Anything I draw when I’m happy is just awful and I don’t want to have to get myself all worked up just so I can produce a fluffin’ delightful picture of a lion or weird little geek child in a red and white polka dot tie.

Curse you creativity, curse you and that stressed-out horse you rode in on!