Comic-con!

Seen as I’ve been a little bit slack on the posting front just lately, I thought I’d ease my way back in with something that’s a tad bit more visual (I TOOK LOTS OF PHOTOSSSSS). On Saturday the 20^th , I went to MCM Expo - Manchester Comic-con.  So yea, that means picture, upon picture, upon picture. I’ll have a wonder through my favourites and post them up here.

                This would be a good opportunity to do ‘a day in the life of’ so here’s how my day went. It started off with a 4:30am start in a friend’s apartment in Leeds  - I was stupid enough to go out the night before, forget my key, miss my train and have to end up sleeping over. Clever Carys! In order to get home in time to get showered, grab my stuff and get in my cosplay…I’d have to reach home by seven, latest. I didn’t fancy showering where I was seen as sleeping beauty (aka: friend) hadn’t been sleeping well so I didn’t want to keep him up longer than I had to.

                The journey to the train station was an interesting one. It’s a 10-15 minute walk away from the apartment building so I set off in good time to have a nice leisurely wonder through the cool early morning (it’s been roasting in England just lately, so the cool morning was much appreciated). On my way I met a few people, obviously still up from the night before with the girls in short dresses and the guys all suited and booted. I remember one set of people carrying a large bakers tray and offering me fresh bread… and another dancing in the street just outside the train station, insisting on high fiving every person that walked past. Only in Leeds, eh?

                The train ride home was un-eventful other than meeting a guy, who I think said his name was Callum from Pudsey, who gave me a red fabric flower and talked to me about tattoos all the way home. What a nice guy. I hopped in a taxi once reaching the train station and got home, only to be locked out for a further hour. I expected someone to be up and about for work at 7 but no such luck. So I sat on the doorstep, staring at my open bedroom window and fantasised about how nice it would be to be able to scale the side of buildings, or be agile enough to climb the drainpipe that was a meter or so away from my room. After contemplation, I decided to take the leap and do something that I knew would only infuriate my mother...I rang the house phone *dramatic music*

                After a passing the thunderous expression of my tired mother, I got a quick shower, gathered my stuff and shoved on my onsie – it was far too late to get my cosplay sorted out now, I’ll get ready with Axis (who I was going to comicon with). Bless the guy, he had straighteners and a mirror all set out for me, ready for me to do a quick change and sort out my make-up. And after the dash to get us both somewhat ready, off back to the trainstation where I had been a few hours earlier, to get the train to Manchester.

                Arriving at the Comic-con location was unreal. I remember sitting in Starbucks as we waited for Chibbi to get her joker cosplay together and just having all my childhood hero’s wonder in and grab a latte. First came The Doctor – doctor who, then in came Cloud  -  FFVii and past the window were ridiculous amounts of games characters that I used to play as from the ages of  5 – 17. It was fantastic! I basically spent the whole day pointing and squeaking excitedly every now and again. That’s enough writing I think, the rest of my day included a two hour queuing session to get into the hall, jumping on well-made cosplayers, and  snapping away with my camera.

Start Saying Yes.

I’m going to start making a conscious effort to do stuff. Bear with me, it’s not as broad and vague as it sounds. It’s best to give a little bit of background. When I was younger I would talk to anybody and would get involved with anything and everything that there was going. But for a reason I’m not too sure of, that began to change. Now I’m at a stage in life where the idea of talking to new people or doing something different terrifies me to whole new level and I’ll avoid it where possible. Until now at least.

                Circumstances have recently changed for me, making it apparent that I need to start becoming a heck of a lot more social. So I need to get over this irrational fear that I have created when being faced with something new. At first, even the thought of changing my ways terrified me. But then I started to think about the small things I’ve done lately that perhaps I wouldn’t have done before, by just saying yes. For example, I went for a night out with some guys from work that I don’t know too well, in a different town, by myself. And you know what, I had a blast! I really enjoyed myself, and even though before setting off I was thinking to myself ‘I really don’t want to do this, I should stay home. I’ll say I’m sick. I want to be at home on my own’, pushing myself through that and actually going out was the best thing I could have done. Giving in to this anxiety was really depriving me of all the memories and experiences I should have as a teen.

                I don’t want to give in to something my mind has set its self to do. I want to go out, I want to have friends and I want to progress within my work too. Not doing these things because of some ‘fear’ that has grown and taken over has really started to piss me off. Yes, sometime I will feel so low that the best thing for me to do is to stay in and give my self time, but that doesn’t mean I have to spend every day of my life hidden away if I have a few doubts in my head. So that’s why I think I need some new rules to live by.

1.Start saying yes.
The countless times I have passed up an opportunity just because it seems a little out of my comfort zone is ridiculous. Say yes to the things being offered and you never know, you might just enjoy it

2.Understand your limits (in regards to rule 1 especially)
It’s all good saying yes to everything, but not everything is right for you. Understand what is slightly out of your comfort zone but possible, and what is just outrageous and unrealistic.

3.Reflect the good times
spending too much time concentrating on the bad things that have happened the last time you did something will only make you panic more – I have to admit to this, I do this far too much. Try remember how much of a blast you had and remember you’re doing this to get past the anxiety and the only way you’ll do that is by pushing yourself that little bit.

I found the most perfect post on Tumblr which I thought was fab (the one I’ve uploaded here) and I think the ‘advice’ in this picture is brilliant and I will be definitely be printing this out and sticking it somewhere where I will see it – the inside of my notebook maybe? I think it would be a great reminder.

 Some people might see this post as petty and crap, I know that. There’s some people out there that might not really understand this feeling, but I also know there’s people out there that will. And I don’t know if this will help you if you’re reading this and feel the same, but I hope it does. You’re not alone, as I’ve found out lately. There’s people who can relate and talking to each other about it really does help. Another thing is that I know this is written rather poorly and where I’ve put in the words ‘I don’t want to do this’….that’s the way my mind works to make myself feel as though I’m in control of a situation and making a choice not to involve my self…but in reality…it’s more like ‘I can’t do this’ or ‘my mind will not allow myself to do this’ for my self and so many others. So please keep that in mind. It’s not a ‘habit that needs breaking’…it’s a lifestyle and a way of being that needs a lot of time to change.

Rule #32 - Books.

I want to do a series of posts based on a quote from a favourite film of mine: Zombieland – ‘Rule #32 enjoy the little things’. I plan on labelling all the post’s that relate to this with ‘Rule#32’ so you can use that if you want to read them all together. It’s become apparent to me lately that when you start to focus on all the positive small parts of life, it makes your outlook all the more brighter. So this is what this series of posts will be, an appreciation of the small things in life that I think are wonderful. I hope it inspires someone out there to begin looking at the little things, or to even take a step back and think ‘oh yea, that is quite nice’.

                The first thing I wanted to write about was books. Not kindles, or smartphone aps that you can read on…but actual physical books. Before you even start to read the story between the covers, have you noticed the way it feels to hold a book in your hand? I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the feel of holding a brand new book that just feels awesome. The way it’s perfect – no creases on the cover from turning the page, no fingerprints or marks, just a perfect front cover.

                Then there’s the smell. I know there’s a few people in my office that adore the smell of new shoes (I brought in brad new trainers…that was an experience) but there’s also people like me who can tell the smell of a new book a mile away. It just one of those smells that kind of hit you. And you can’t describe it either – you can’t say it just smells like paper…and you can’t say it just smells like ink. It’s a very distinguished smell that if you know it, you’ll be able to envision it right now as you’re reading this. It’s something you just know – like the taste of hot food, what does ‘hot’ taste like?

                I love the way books look on a book shelf, there’s something quite ornamental about them. You can’t really deny it that a good looking bookshelf is a good feature (well I guess you could have your opinions against it) as I see post after post after post of bookshelves on tumblr on a daily basis. When I finally get my own place, that’s what I want. A floor to ceiling bookcase – at least. I would love to have my own library, that would be the dream. My own little quaint library with a big old comfy, high backed chair with a log fire – heaven! This is where my personality kind of comes through, my perfect escape would be a library and not some paradise island with sandy beaches.

                So all that’s before you even turn the first page. This is where the real magic is. Have you ever lost yourself in a book? Gotten so involved with the story line, you can feel the characters emotions? Not being able to put the book down so reading until the early hours? I definitely have. It’s an escape, after all. You get the chance to forget about your life, and live someone else’s. As you turn the pages, you get further into the plot – and the further you get into the plot, the more you want to carry on.  I’ve never understood how my brother could never get into a book. He didn’t like to read and the only time he ever did was if he had to for education…or if it was a comic to do with his video-games. To not read, to me, means you’re missing out on whole new worlds and adventures. In films, you can easily be put off by the casting, but with a book you can imagine it to be whoever you want it to be (this is probably why I think a lot of films are crap…cause I’ve created this ideal picture of the book in my mind that no physical creation can ever live up to)

                To a few people, this will sound really creepy, talking about the feel and smell of an inanimate object like the way I have. It’s just that I’m very passionate about reading…it definitely is my escape. And even though I do have a reading app on my Samsung, I love to have the hardcopy. The app’s convenient for when I’m travelling and can’t exactly fit five/six books in my bag, or if I’m not carrying a bag but want something to do on a long train ride…but just because an app is simpler or more convenient, I wouldn’t give up my books for the world.

Short Arse

Lately it’s been quite apparent that I’ve not been feeling too great. I’ve not had the effort / energy to do anything that I wanted to do (including keeping this blog updated) and even started feeling crap about things that have never bothered me before. For example…my height.

                From the bi-line of my blog, ‘the world from a 5ft1 point of view’…you can see how short I am. I had my last growth spurt when I was in primary school, so around 11 or 12. I’ve not grown since. Kind of grew at one point, I was once 5 foot 2. And then I shrunk. Both times I’ve been measured by a doctor and I lost an inch between visits. Even the doctor was confused on this.

                Being so small makes things a little…I wouldn’t say difficult…but more of an inconvenience. At work, most of my colleagues are a good foot taller than me, so this means I can’t reach the coffee cups, or the milk if they put it in the top fridge, or to look in the meeting room books… I’ve gone around the whole office and accommodated it to my height. I’ve moved the printer screen down ; I’ve moved the mugs to somewhere I can reach ; I’ve put the extra tea bags in the bottom cupboard instead of on top of the fridge. I’m probably driving all the tall people insane. I even have my own special chair. True story…I had to have a new chair ordered for me because my legs are too short and it would have affected my posture…with a foot stool…cause I can’t reach the floor. TINY LEGS!

                After having a giggle about how absurd it is that I have a special chair for my tiny legs, I have started to look in the mirror and resent how short my legs are. That I can’t go to the shop and buy a pair of pants of leggings without having to get them altered before I wear them…or in the same way…my arms are short to the point that ‘3/4 length sleeves’ are still too long for my arms. In a fashion way, it really is a pain in the backside. But also with weight and body shape. I know full well that if I was a half a foot taller…I’d be a few dress sizes less. That my body fat would be distributed differently and I would appear slimmer. It really has put a downer on me being happy with my body, and I don’t actually know how or what brought this on.

                So I thought that it’s about time I snapped out of it. so for a start, I thought….why not find short role models. And to my surprise there’s quite a few. Just for those people who are interested too…I’ll put some names out there:

Scarlett Johansson – this is one of the most beautiful women, in my opinion, that there is. And she is just under 5’3.

Christina Aguilera is at a height of 5’2

And some of the beautiful women that are the same height as me include the likes of Hayden Panettiere, Hilary Duff, Eva Longoria, Jessica Simpson and the Olsen Twins.

                I don’t know why, but looking at these women and knowing they’re the same height as I am (or around the same height) started to make me a feel a little bit better about how short I am. Possibly because there is some of the most beautiful, talented bunch of ladies that are named to be the under 5’5. Is this part of the whole ‘media and body image’ issue again? Am I subconsciously wanting to be taller just because that’s what I see on tv? I don’t know. I did get turned down for a modeling job not long ago for being too short – even though it was an ad for short women… (too short for a short ad….how does that work?) they told me I needed to be at least five foot five to be considered. Well then. That might have been the start of this irrational body hate towards myself. All I know is that it’s silly and I need to start embracing my short legs.