There are so many vanity products and processes that one can apply to try and improve on one’s looks: hair extensions, lipsuction, false eyelashes, false nails, piercings, tattoos, makeup, cosmetic surgery, vajazzling, and most annoyingly (for me and the topic of this post) fake tan. It is nigh on impossible to walk through any town in the UK without seeing at least 20 girls and guys with a completely unnatural looking tan on their skin. Not only is it unnatural, it’s not attractive! Orange is just not the way forward for complexion. And the sooner people realise this, the better. There is nothing wrong with pale coloured skin!

For those who still aren’t convinced, watch Snog, Marry, Avoid.

I stumbled upon a video not so long ago. It was posted on a blog and the stills along with the accompanying comments drew me in to click on the link to see the video for myself. It was a rather enjoyable experience to say the least. Since that first video, I have followed its creator virtually and watched video after video as they were uploaded – each one as pleasing as its predecessor.

A few days ago, I stumbled onto yet another blog, discussing the aforementioned videos. The writer was pretty negative in what he had to say and made some rather personal comments about the creator of the videos. The reason for this negativity was this: the creator asked the writer not to refer to his videos as porn.

The videos do indeed contain adult material that one would usually affiliate with pornography: nudity and graphic sex scenes. Does that make it pornography? Shortbus and 9 Songs are cinematic films which contained explicit sex scenes and nudity, and yet they were shown in cinemas alongside mainstream movies. It is also mentioned on the blog that the videos were posted on an adult website dedicated to the provision of free porn. Does this also automatically make it porn? If I were to post a clip of paint drying onto a site like XTube, would that make it porn?

I found that the more I read of this blog post, the more my blood boiled. There were comments after comments about how the creator was “ill-bred” and “rude” and “barbaric” for not accepting the writer’s compliments. I don’t think it is all that unreasonable to not feel complimented when your creation is not being viewed the way you meant for it to. It seemed to me that the writer was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the creator did not make the video as a porno but as a piece of artistic expression. And it is in every creator’s right to label their creations as they see fit. Just because the casual onlooker may watch it and see it as porn, that does not define it as such. Art is not what the observer sees or feels, it is what the creator makes it.

I, for one, applaud the creator’s work. If he says it’s not porn, then it’s not porn – it is a piece of work. A creation born of his imagination and hard work. See for yourself and make your own decisions.

However, it isn’t the plausability of this change that I want to criticise nor is it the decision to pass it. What really bugged me about this whole scandal was the reaction of the students. Chaos broke loose and riots arose; buildings were damaged; people were injured; Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were attacked en route to the Royal Variety Show. What exactly was the meaning of this? What point were they trying to prove exactly? When you were a child and your parents told you that you had to earn your pocket money now by doing chores, did you slap them and pull their hair, and think that that would change their mind? I seriously doubt it. You probably realised, even at that age, that you would have to just go with the flow or risk not getting nothing whatsoever. The same principle applies here – throwing your toys out of the pram will get you nowhere. You’re an adult, for christ’s sake! Unlike a child, you can actually verbalise your thoughts and opionions in a way that people can understand and take on. When will people learn that violence is rarely the answer?

Before the riots, I was completely on the side of the anti-fee increase group. Post-riots, I just thought “what a bunch of complete twats!”. And I am pretty sure that I was not the only one. It was an immature act that did more harm to the cause than good. Also, the majority of the rioters were either students already in university or people who weren’t even planning to go to university: people who weren’t even impacted by the change!! Seriously! WTF? I hope the proper idiots got their comeuppance, I really do. If you have something to say, SAY it – don’t go throwing punches unnecessarily.

I can only imagine the emotions and thoughts that coursed through her in those dreadful times. Lumbered with the need to help as best as she could but crushingly aware of the fact that even the best was not enough in some instances. That has to be one of the worst feelings in the world: knowing that you’re unable to help someone in need. I know this from experience.

I am no Florence Nightingale; I do not tend to the needs of the sick and fatally wounded; I am no nurse; I am no saint. I am, however, caring. As conceited as that may sound, it’s the only way I can explain it. I care a LOT about those who are close to me. I always try to support my loved ones and I will always help whenever I am able to. It makes me feel good to help – I like that people can rely on me. So when an occasion comes up where I can’t offer my support – where my support is insufficient – I feel awful. I feel useless.

There are so many people I wish I could help out of the situation they are in. I wish that I could wrap them up in something and hoist them out of the hell that burns at their feet. Instead, I can only watch. Just as Florence watched her patients writhe in agony until they stopped. Forever.

This juxtaposition of personality traits confuses people, I think. In fact, it confuses myself as I am unable to explain really why I haven’t met up with so-and-so in such an amount of time. (I’m pretty sure at the moment I’m writing this, I won’t have seen some of my close friends for a pretty long time!) How can one person be so outgoing and happy-go-lucky when they are with friends, but then be so much of a hermit when given the opportunity? My only explanation is the word I have used as a title for this piece: sanctum.

I am my own temple – my own little retreat. Being naturally introvert, I use up a lot of energy when I socialise. Don’t get me wrong, I love meeting people and having a good laugh but it really drains me. So when I get time alone, I kind of over-indulge and get into a habit of just enjoying my own company rather than making any effort to see my friends. In some ways, that makes me come across a bit aloof and uncaring, and possibly even selfish. I suppose that could be so. But it’s less about not wanting to see people, and more about the fact that I just like being by myself. So if you don’t see me or hear from me in a while, don’t sit and wait for me. Contact me first and drag me out of my reverie because chances are, if you don’t, I won’t.

People aren’t always the most open species. If a skunk feels threatened, it will release some horrid odour to warn off the threat. If a cat is angry, it will bear its claws and erect its tail. If a dog is happy, it will pant and wag its tail. If a human is any of these, it’s not always so easy to tell. Some will choose to express little to no emotion. Especially when it comes to negative ones. It’s always difficult to tell someone you’re upset because you don’t want to be a burden – or worse, bring them down with you. Similarly, it’s not always the most appropriate place to express anger – do you really want to be the one being gawped at as you rant and rave in the middle of the street, veins popping up all over your red face? So instead, we hold it all in. We bite our tongue and we fight back the tears because it’s unsightly.

But does that really benefit us? It’s only a matter of time before something tips you over and *pop* like the cork off a shaken bottle of champagne, and out it all pours. And who knows if there’s anyone around to clean you up at that time. So do yourself a favour. Do your friends a favour. And just let it out. Whenever you need to. Be happy! Be sad! Be angry! And be together! Thoughts are to be shared – a true friend will always listen.

and a whisper in my ear, you have me under.

I’m spellbound.

It’s crazy what people are willing to do for loved ones. In any other circumstance, with any other people, you would not even consider the things that come so naturally when love is involved – walk barefoot over hot coals; swim the seven seas. I may have slightly exaggerated with those two examples but what is undeniably true, is that the sky truly is the limit when it comes to pleasing the ones you love. It doesn’t even have to be for one who returns the affection.

Unrequited love is probably one of the most lethal situations to be in. Like all other types of love, you are looking through rose-tinted – seeing only the good in him, and censoring the bits you don’t want to see. It’s no wonder that psychologists call this the “Halo Effect”. Love makes him a saint and butter wouldn’t melt. The difference here is that this isn’t mutual. And that is where the problems begin.

Dance for Him, monkey

and His love for you must surely come.

Your heart tells you that there is a chance that this could work out; that given time and your efforts, he will come through and you can be together. Your mind, on the other hand, is bound and gagged from saying anything that might seem logical but that shines light on the ugliness of the situation. And so you heel at his feet, and answer to his every beck and call – like some leashed dog hoping for that treat. But it never comes. And your heart begins to bruise – torn between the hurt of rejection and the hope of reciprocation – until it breaks.

So, to those who long for the never, I say this: give yourself some dignity, stand up and dispel the curse before you fall into the abyss. Let it be you who shatters the dream, so that he may not. Don’t fool yourself into believing a fantasy.

Honey. Babe. Buttercup. Pumpkin. Cookie. Sweetie. Sweetheart. Sugar.

The list of endearments is infinitely long and all are sickly sweet or ridiculously lyrical. Everyone who is within earshot of the term (whichever it may be) is almost certainly going to have to check their gag reflex for fear of actual expulsion of their recently consumed meal. Only the one on the receiving end is oblivious to the complete and utter inappropriateness of the words in the situation. As you may have gathered, I’m not the biggest fan of PDA (Public Displays of Affection) and the use of endearments comes under that title. I’m not a total heartless prick though. I can just about accept “babe” in mixed company. “Babe”, yes; “baby”, no. It’s like, we already know you’re an item by your body language (from close proximity to holding hands, to everything but sexual intercourse on the streets). So we don’t need you to reiterate your point by then calling each other “cookie” or “sugarplum”. It’s just not necessary, and downright wrong.

Another annoying thing about endearments is that it is now more and more common to extend the usage outside of romantic relationships. I have been called “babe” and “hun” by complete strangers and the experience always leaves me feeling confused and rather angry. I am not your “baby”. Stop being so condescending you little queen, and just give me my drink! Argh! What is with all this over-friendliness and pretend familiarity? Why can’t we just return to the good ol’ days where we just beat each other up?

However, it is argued that the internet – rather than bringing people together – is creating a gulf between humans. Absorbed into this cyberspace, people are less and less likely to make face2face contact with each other, choosing instead to just instant message or email. Extended to the dating world, it is argued that people are forging unsustainable relationships, fueled by inaccurate intepretations of self and invalid descriptions. In other words, people are falling for a fictional character. It’s easy to lie on the here. There isn’t the eye contact to reveal any discrepancies between fact and fiction. Photos are easily edited and even copied. All in the attempt to make oneself appear better than what one might actually be. Unfortunately, this glorified Frankenstein can’t live forever, and eventually the mask must be removed. Our mortality goes beyond what we experience first hand – it spills into everything that we do. So why go to the effort of giving birth to this imaginary You, which must die a shameful death and leave the real you scarred and embarrassed? Be brave, be human, be You.

The reason I bring this up is because of a recent conversation with some close friends about relationships. It is probably not untrue to say that the majority of people in this world who are not already in a relationship, are actively looking to be in one; wanting the one person who can make them whole. But what we concluded was that relationships are far more hassle than they appear to be worth. Sure, they can make you feel the happiest you’ve ever yet felt, but also they can cause the most agony that you’ve ever had to experience. It’s a double-edged sword – one that has had you working forever to get it. And then there’s the feeling of greener grasses. What if there is a better person for you out there? What if you are just settling for the current partner because you so desperatelywant to be in a relationship? I, personally, think that relationships are the most amount of trouble ever, and don’t know whether they are worth it or not. Afterall, what makes this relationship different from all the other relationships?