Being quiet and shy for most of my life has lead to me observing a lot of things most people might not think twice about and because of this I over analyse a lot of how people act around me. I pay attention too much to how tightly someone holds my hand, how they hug me or address me, even how they smile. I can tell when something is off or I can hazard a fair guess.

This has hindered me in more ways than it has helped me, leading me to be a little paranoid perhaps or anxious. I find myself wondering how people work and why they do what they do, and why people put up with other people’s blatant bullshit. How does someone stop paying attention to the little things and just live with them?

Maybe I’m not the only one that has problems with noticing the things I do. Are there more people out there like me who dislike being a ‘wallflower’ and find it hard to explain to other people without getting a strange look from them? Often I’ll point out something someone does that they don’t even recognise they do. Sometimes thinking about the things I’ve noticed keeps me awake at night but maybe it’s just a side effect of being unemployed and bored.

If by paying too close attention to all the small things I think I might miss out on the bigger picture and ruin a lot of things for myself. If anyone relates leave a reply, please.

Every day of my life is an immense struggle between thinking positively and negatively but I’m thinking that maybe happiness is a choice. It is so much easier to be down then it is to be cheerful but if I sit down I can almost think myself happy if I try hard enough.

Usually I’ll browse the inspiring prints on Pinterest and cheer myself up and today this one caught my eye. “You have been criticizing  yourself for years, & it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself & see what happens.” Mostly my irrational thinking stems from insecurities about myself and then they manifest themselves in to huge anxious problems that really make no sense.

I’ve never really embraced that quote at all but I think if we all try it out we might be happier people. We all do it every day, we criticize ourselves over little things and big things and what does it get us? A mind full of worry and stomach full of knots. What if we tried appreciating ourselves,patting ourselves on the back and realising we’re not perfect but hey, we are who we are and we only get one shot at life. Maybe we could smile more, appreciate what we DO love about ourselves and our lives instead of what we hate and what we don’t have. We all deserve to be happy and we should all try to love ourselves. No relationship will be as long as the one you have with yourself and more of us,especially me, need to learn how to accept ourselves and stop being so damn critical. Now let’s make like Paul McCartney.

The band create songs that are a mix of folk and rock. Certain elements may remind listeners of the Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver. Lead singer Peter Liddle manages to distinguish himself with his unique voice, a delicate and melodic mirror to the heavier guitar riffs in songs like Weights and Measures and Bible Belt, yet capable of matching the intensity and pace of the music so his voice never gets drowned out.

The most appealing thing about Shallow Bed are the harmonies Liddle and his band mates achieve in all their songs and the melodies Liddle carries on his own that give the songs beautiful flow and staying power in the minds of listeners and hours later Liddles melodies will gently float back in to the listener’s mind. It’s the well formed harmonies along side the strong drums,heavy guitars and classic violin that make each song different yet just as interesting and powerful as the last.

From months of listening to various professional recordings and live versions of songs like Weights and Measures,Bible Belt and New Ceremony, I think the live versions are better than those on the album. The subtle changes in composition work better and are more catchy in the live versions than those on the album so it was a minor let down in the quality of these songs.

Over all Shallow Bed is one stunning debut album and Dry the River were one of Vevo’s top bands to watch in 2012. They were right to include them in their list with an album as strong as this.  Dry the River have created something that sounds like they have been around a lot longer than they have and it’s clear that they know exactly what they’re doing with a sound that is distinctively their own.

My mother <3

My mam is a book lover, she devours books one after the other and always has. She’s the main reason behind my love of books and it’s the one thing we’ve always bonded over. We’re the readers in the family, if someone to draw portraits of us we would have books instead of heads because we’re always behind them.

When I was younger she used to buy me books for birthdays and Christmas, knowing that no matter what book it was I would love it anyway. Much like her I would read anything and everything I could get my hands on and usually she would even read my kids books and still enjoy them even though the letters were huge, the story short and the plots bad.

As mentioned before I’m a Harry Potter nut. Me and my mam read all the books at the same time and would talk about what happened in them for ages. She was the one who came to the midnight book launches, queued with me outside Easons in the cold, and was more excited for the next installment than even I was.

My mam has always been my best book buddy, it’s our thing. We still share books, usually it’s me telling her she just has to read certain books. Right now I have her reading The Hunger Games, I know she’ll love it and then we’ll obsess over the characters and what happened and eventually she’ll see the film.

Often, in the mornings, me and my mam will be the only ones awake in the house. I’ll sit on the couch, she’ll sit in her chair, and we’ll both read our separate books in complete silence, content in each others company yet bonding in our separate worlds. It always amazes me how we can be in the same room, both worlds apart in the books we’re reading but both very connected and aware of what we’re sharing.

Anyway, a brilliant idea struck me. What if there were book clubs for gyms? A group of women who want to get fitter or lose a pound or two, who also happen to love books, go to the gym together and listen to the same book and then can chat about it. I would totally go! Not only would you be distracted by the plot but you’d be keeping trim by doing it with other women who have the same goals and passions. Genius right?

I’ve not googled this idea for fear it’s already a real thing but as far as I’m aware it’s not and I think I should kick start a trend. Book Clubs For Chubs maybe, I haven’t settled on a name for my brilliant new movement. I just thought I would present the idea to the world in the hopes of promoting a slightly healthier, book loving world.

Most of my books are in good condition, the pages are still attached, the covers are still in contact and the pages haven’t gone yellow. But there are some (like my Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone) that show how much they’ve been read and re-read, the pages have loosened and the covers are clinging on for dear life. They’ve literally been read ragged.

The thing is, I don’t mind one bit. If anything I love it when the books I’ve loved most show how much they have been loved and adored by me over the years. I know a lot of book lovers like to keep their books in pristine condition but it isn’t so for me. I think books are meant to become worn by years of page turning and love. It gives them character and shows how much they’ve been enjoyed. People are meant to enjoy their books and not worry about cracking the spine, which by the way is one of my favorite things.

Do you think I should be locked away for the way I treat my books? Or do you agree that the more weathered a book is the more apparent it is that its been truly enjoyed?

It doesn’t matter if I’m out for a walk, on a bus, in town or a restaurant, if someone mentions Harry Potter I WILL hear you and whip my head around until you look at me and I say ‘I couldn’t help but overhear your Harry Potter conversation. Let me tell you all I know about the wizarding world.’

I have always been a Harry Potter fanatic and thankfully so has my mother so I always had someone to come along to the midnight book launches with me (she was probably more excited than I was). My Philosopher’s Stone has been read ragged and my collection sits on a shelf beside my bed, my pride and joy along with the ultimate box set, a child’s HP wand, a Hogwarts scarf, and other meaningful memorabilia. Brace yourselves, I even have a Harry Potter related tattoo! It says Amortentia, which as you all know is the name of the love potion.

The Harry Potter books are a big part of a lot of peoples lives and it’s hard to believe there won’t be another book. Nothing can beat those midnight releases or the excitement and buzz a new film created. It’s genuinely something that probably won’t happen again for a very long time. Not even Twilight or The Hunger Games have reached the phenomenal standards of the boy wizard, try as they may.

I’m desperate to cling on to anything to do with JK Rowling and her magical world. I’m convinced if I go to Florida and visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, they’ll take me on as a Weasley due to my encyclopedic knowledge, pale skin and ginger hair. Alas, it’s but a dream. There will always be the memories and of course the books and I will always relish a good conversation about what type of wand I have, what Molly meant when she said Ginny’s jumper was ‘on the cat’ or a debate in to whether Snape was a stalker or just a lonely soul who’s love was unrequited.

There has always been a calming comfort in the pages of books, where I can nestle myself and hide away from the rest of the world. Perhaps this wasn’t the best tactic for a ridiculously shy little girl but it did benefit me in the long run. The characters,relationships and life lessons in books allowed me to understand the world around me and taught me what the most important things in life were. They made me long to meet the right kind of people and I eventually did.

I know some people who don’t read due to dyslexia, but people who choose not to read? The page ‘I Hate Reading’ on Facebook, has 540,552 likes and I’m a little shocked. To not know the joys of reading and the escape must be hell. If there were no books left I would stop existing. I’m more of a book than a person,sometimes an open one but mostly closed. Can anyone else fathom what life must be like without the presence of books?

I suffer with anxiety which makes me a little depressed now and then, but when I read it takes my mind off my mostly irrational thoughts and gives me a release. It also allows my brain to calm itself and injects some perspective no matter what I’m reading. I always carry a book in my bag wherever I go for reassurance and to have a familiar friend with me. Books have been the life rafts on the turbulent tides of my mind, without which I would probably have gone insane or worse.

I thought I’d show books some extra respect today.

I was nerdy enough to get excited about buying stationery for school and I loved going in to Eason and picking out my copies,hardbacks, pens and pencils. The idea of having these books of empty space was enough to get me excited and eager to start writing (and doodling) in them. Whether they were diaries, or shorthand notebooks in college.

Typing never really held the same kind of magic. Never when I see a blank document and the blinking black line do I feel a great sense of excitement at the possibilities of imagination. There was always something in my mind that immediately started to form ideas and thoughts when my eyes rested on a lined page. I needed to fill those lines with words and make them groan under the weight of my thoughts, dreams,characters and schoolgirl waffling.

I’ve always noticed little things and had acute loves like Amelie, the way she relishes sinking her hands in to bags of seeds. One of my acute loves is writing on the soft,supported,right side of a copy book or journal and having my words imprinted on the following page like pressing shapes in to dough. The left side of the page never held a place in my heart, it was always rougher and harder to write on. I also loved the feel of a pen writing on the lovely,soft, right side and how it made my writing look almost presentable.

But there is no right side of the page with typing, there are no words imprinted on the next page, there’s not as much care with typing. People can be quick to rant (me included) when they type and grammar takes a back seat. There is no backspace or delete button with paper. You either write properly and carefully or scrunch your page up and begin again.

As technology progresses, less and less young people will write on paper and I wonder if it will ever get to the point where school kids will never experience the joy and pride of the day you stop writing with pencils and move on to pen. I couldn’t wait to start inking my pages with a more permanent medium and I felt so grown up. Finally I was old enough to be trusted with something that wouldn’t fade or that I couldn’t simply erase.

The written word, in a way, holds my whole life. There are still pages upon pages of schoolwork, college work, diaries and letters in my house forming a collage of my past fails, wins and hopes.  Most I’ve kept by choice and some unintentionally. My friends and I still take out our secret diaries and letters to each other from our school days every now and then to reminisce and laugh at ourselves. It’s like holding physical memories in your hands or standing in front of a mirror that reflects your thirteen year old self. When you read back over your written words from years ago, two versions of yourself exist at once. One trapped on the paper and the other looking at how far they’ve come.

Typing on a computer seems cold and distant, the light strains your eyes, and there’s a kind of urgency with the blinking black line to write something right now. It’s taunting and so different to the soothing,calming,quiet and relaxing past time of writing. Where only you, the page and your mind exist in the quiet comfort of your own personal time.

In the battle to preserve the written word over succumbing to the typed tirade, whose side are you on?

The only way to describe Effie’s style is ‘mad hatter haute couture’. The fashion of the capitol is all bright colours,over the top shapes and head pieces and fantastic make up that only inhabitants of the Capitol and cirque du soleil performers could get away with. Yet I found myself wanting to be part of the mad fashion. The first look out the train window at the posh people of the Capitol immediately reminded me of wrapped sweets, like a tin of Quality Street.

The colours were rich and vibrant and the shapes were full and over the top. It was like a high fashion catwalk show constantly. Most of the women wore socks of various lengths with heels, which I see a lot of people doing anyway but it actually looked well with what they were wearing so the next time I wear a dress and heels there may be a pair of socks to accompany my outfit.

I’m no make up whizz, I know my basics and I’m happy with that. But the make up of Panem, I would love to be able to walk around looking like those women and the men actually. The men are just as feminine and stylish as the women of the Capitol, everyone is impeccably groomed. Effie’s gold and purple lips at the reaping were stunning and my eyes were constantly drawn to them. When there was a wide shot of the people there it was hard to know where to look with the brilliant looks coming from every angle. I’ll have to ask John,It’s Only Make-up to use her make up knowledge and guide me in the direction of some Capitol inspired colours.

I love the fashion of the Capitol and I would have no problem sporting the Effie look although I would look exactly like this.

What do you think of the capitol fashion?