A different kind of Christmas

So here we are again, another Christmas, another month of frantic present buying and prayer for the speedy deliveries of Royal Mail (...or not!) and here I am writing possibly one of the last blogs of 2010.

What a strange year it's been. People, places... predicaments. Perhaps its fair to say that my life can be separated into just two segments so far; the times before these and the times after. 2010 has been a benchmark year. People seem to think that you grow and advance on the dawn of your birthday. At 18, you suddenly become 'responsible' and 'adult'... there are many people I know who still don't deserve such a title... Myself included. The Peter Pan of my friends and my classmates, I've never wanted to 'grow up'. All of my favourite things ask for my creativity, my passion and excitement. If you become an adult... I think these things can get lost in the ether.

I've met both people I've come to respect enormously, and people I've come to detest in equal amounts. I don't like pasts... I don't like previous encounters... I like to be able to start fresh. So why does that matter? Well, this year, I've lived differently. I've become dependent and attached. Once that happens, its hard to separate. You return to home, and its like returning to the age of 16. I think this must have been how Harry Potter felt after exploring the wizard world; and then being shoved into the cupboard under the stairs. I'm not imprisoned or limited, but I am lacking a certain part of me. Its as if you stop playing 'happy families' for a month and re-enter childhood. I don't like it! Whilst I long to be back in that familiar independent atmosphere, I want to bring the aspects of what make Winchester so amazing home but can't. Perhaps being so close is not as exciting as I may once have believed. The distance apart can sometimes be a good thing; knowing that there is no possible way to change anything. But, when you're so close to such a different world... its not the same. Harry Potter, I know how you feel.

Meet Those Parents

They say that one of the first initial things we use to figure each other out is our eyes. When we’re windswept, flustered, stressed and tired, our eyes might betray the smile that we’ve so elaborately illustrated and tell someone that we don’t really want to be doing this today. This we can’t hide. The nervous darting of those agitated eyes, the desperate and frantic desire to look into anything but their faces... No, we can’t put it off any longer. It’s time to meet the parents.

Whilst we can’t change this unavoidable in-built shortcoming of the human anatomy; we can go some way to hiding within the comfort of the way we come across to those dreaded in-laws to be (who knows?), through how we look!

It’s all about connotation. Whilst our eyes connote fear and panic with a hint of shear distress thrown in, we can stand, or sit, with our heads held high knowing that we look the part. Not suits, not a cocktail dress, not a tuxedo or elegant evening gown, just the clothes that make us feel like us. Don’t make an effort to impress. Make an effort to squeeze in all of the qualities that epitomise what you are all about into the fabrics that adorn that quivering, shaking frame.

If you smile when you’re on the telephone, people hear it. They hear the smile! This is no different. Wearing what makes you feel secure and comfortable to that first meeting of terror makes all of the difference. Your appearance is one of cool composure, of assured likeability, and of simple sophistication. Kill the cliché. All because you chose the worn-out faded jeans, not the Henley boating regatta chino’s, you chose the understated once-were-white converses not the six-inch heels (designed more for self-defence than actual mobility...), you chose to wear your hair down not in that tight bun that is quite frankly lying to yourself as much as anyone else. You get the picture... If you’re lying to yourself then you’re most likely lying to them too.

And don’t think they’re making some imperial clothing effort either. Intimidating though they may be, they are not going to try and out-dress you. Why would they need to, They practically have you a nervous wreck without going to the hassle of anything else! Remember that they are not your generation. They don’t know the music that inspires you, the films that drive you forward or the sports that motivate you. But that’s not the point. They will learn these wonderful things very shortly after they open the door to you in your own coat, not your older siblings’ leather jacket. Or the suit you rented from the Moss Brothers...!