18 years old

Yesterday. 18 years of writing nonsense and publishing it on line. 18 years of blogging. 18 years of reading, and commenting, and following, and then Twitter, and Facebook, and Instagram and so it continues. 18 years ago I wrote about Sunglasses. Everything has changed since then. Nothing has changed since then. Here’s to the next 18! And as I’m 18 it’s now legal for the blog to have a drink, the question is, which drink?

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Weekend Reading

What If We Cultivated Our Ugliness? or: The Monstrous Beauty of Medusa Myth and folklore teem with frightening women: man-seducers and baby-stealers, menacing witches and avenging spirits, rapacious bird-women and all-devouring forces of nature. One of a series of articles on how culture/media portrayal of women is … somewhat troubling (AKA fubar) Mossberg: The Disappearing Computer This is my last weekly column for The Verge and Recode — the last weekly column I plan to write anywhere. I’ve not linked to many (any?) of his articles but no doubt his legacy is a strong one The Curious Case of the Disappearing Nuts At 11:22 a.m. on Thursday, June 20, 2013, an orange Freightliner tractor-trailer arrived at Crain Walnut Shelling in …

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May In Review

Lived Highlights Six by Nico: Childhood Still surviving Bootcamp, into the last couple of sessions now Signed up for Pedal for Scotland Bought some plants because ‘greenery’ Bought some fab new cushions Had a tattoo consultation (and booked in for August, wooop!) Aside from that, whilst I had a lot of things on, almost every day, it felt like a quiet month. Admittedly a lot of my focus has been inwards, my physical health and fitness have driven a lot of my decisions (not drinking on nights out for example), and my mental health is definitely improving but obviously that too takes a lot of hard work. Meditating as a ‘habit’ as pretty much in place now too so, whilst …

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The Hunt

Ready, prepared, weapons in place, the fresh stench of aftershave fills the air, a clean shirt buttoned, wallet checked, protection an annoyance. On the bus, eyes everywhere, bodies chat and vodka laughs, the vehicle vibrates week long sexual energy, the weekend hunt is on. She with the warpaint camouflage, ready with her lures, lurid nails on glowing screen, there in 10, get the drinks in. Pools of light illuminate busy tables, empty glasses to catch vapid souls. You have to shout at the bar staff over indie classics, to order your next round of avoidance. People congregate, merge and flock, friends and colleagues bellowing at shared jokes, while the hunters quietly circle, waiting for the herd to break, weakness to …

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Weekend Reading

We Aren’t Built to Live in the Moment We are misnamed. We call ourselves Homo sapiens, the “wise man,” but that’s more of a boast than a description. What is now? When is then? Etc etc. A notable addition to my recent post. How Mountain Biking Is Saving Small-Town From Nevada to Minnesota, hollowed-out mining towns are seeing economic revitalization on trails and tracks that attract mountain bikers from far and wide Photo: Nearly 50 years ago, the iron mining companies that were once the backbone of Crosby. And the world evolves. Pet Project The semester is almost over and the rain is only supposed to hold off for a couple more hours, but a group of Campbell University golf …

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Breathe and stop

It’s easy to get swept along by life, to grab on to things and go where the current takes you but that’s different from choosing where you want to go, even if that means you have to let go of some things and work hard to keep to your own course. Breathe. The above sentence is a wordy way of saying that my counselling is going well and I’m learning more about my own personal motivations, behaviours, and drivers, and that I’m working on changing the ones which are in the ‘not happy making’ camp. Stop. Part of that is to stop. Congratulate myself on my achievements, big or small. Some days that achievement is not putting off the hoovering …

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Why I am not quitting Facebook

Sometimes when I’m writing for this blog, it feels like there is a conspiracy going on to make me think about, and write about, a particular topic. So with that in mind I will happily concede that this post was inspired by Lipstick Lori (who is writing some great stuff at the moment!) writing about How I Quit Facebook, Sort Of, my own ponderings around the question of Which Tech Giant Would You Drop?, and this piece by Jason Kottke (uber-blogger) My Social Media Fast. It’s a slow pull, a subtle trick. It starts with a brief desire and is soon a constant drain. They know what they are doing, they’ve spent a long time designing it to be this …

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Weekend Reading

Two notes on today’s post. I’m finding it harder to wade through my usual sources and avoid the T word. Especially this past week. It’s depressing stuff and shows no sign of abating. I tend to leave the order of the links in these posts unaltered. They are presented as I discovered, oldest to latest. But the news about Chris Cornell hit me really hard, largely because grunge was the ‘music moment’ I identified with growing up. Chris Cornell Was a Rock Star for the Ages Chris Cornell, frontman for Soundgarden and Audioslave, died Wednesday night in Detroit, a few hours after a Soundgarden show. He was 52. He died by suicide, a medical examiner determined. Cornell was one of the …

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Six by Nico: Childhood

Six weeks have past, and it’s time for a new menu at Six by Nico! They announced this menu the same night we visited last time, and after such a stellar start I was keen to get back but a little nervous in case it wasn’t quite up to the same standard. Mind you, it’s tricky to judge a restaurant when they’ve changed their menu, although I’m still not sure if I was being overly critical or more lenient given that the entire premise of Six by Nico is to do just that, regularly change their menu. This is their idea, but would it measure up to our previous visit? While the menu hints at what was to come, on …

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My First Kiss

The names have been changed to protect the innocent I was eleven when I had my first kiss. Eleven going on eight, as all boys are at that age, our childishness thrown into stark relief against the maturity of the girls in our class. Eleven going on sixteen as we faked our way to maturity. There were a few of us who lived in the same area, played together in the streets and parks, visited parental homes on sunny holidays in a carefully coordinated route to get the most bang for our (invisible) buck. Some evenings we used to sneak into the local football ground through a gap in the fence. If you were careful, and avoided Dick the groundsman …

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