“I love you, Internet- but I just don’t like you anymore” & “my old friend, the scrapbook”

Hey! In this post I’m writing about the Internet! All users of the Internet definitely will find this interesting. Oh, wait- that’s you, isn’t it?

I wrote here before about the headaches of the Internet, which you can read about  here.  In the post, I started to tap (har har tap, as in tapping on the keyboard) about my agg with this beast, which I said I’d write about soon. Today is soon! Before you get all righteous and suspicious…like, “Hey, this chick SAYS she has itchings with the Web, yet she’s writing a blog!! She’s using the internet! She’s a hypocrite!” I’m not I swear, I love the Internet!

I love the internet as a thing, without the internet I wouldn’t know about half of the books I’ve purchased cheaply for pennies on Amazon, I wouldn’t have been bothered to learn the guitar, only being able to learn old stuffy songs in dusty books on the top of Dad’s wardrobe, (like, I can maybe see why people like Simon & Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence, but please can I learn the chords to this instead? Oh wow, I can?! Gee, thanks Internet!)

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Just to prove it’s all I do

Ugh, I love it so much. But I deleted my Facebook this week. I was sitting on my bed, listening to Horses, (again, all I ever do is listen to Horses) and I remembered what I said once, I must have been about 12. I said, “Oh, yeah I’ll delete Facebook when I’m 18, so I can live without having to document everything on line, and actually start to live.” So I just did. Now, my friends would laugh at this, my best friend once saying that I used to delete my Facebook more than I had a period, but now, we have so many other cool ways to utilise the Internet (hey WordPress! Hey Twitter!) I thought, why should I feel obliged to have it? It’s not creative, it’s no longer for me. Sure, I used to get my thrills from sending potential crushes pictures of baby seals, but this technique didn’t ever work- apart from one who replied with “is this a virus”

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to write about. There are other ways of documenting your life, on PAPER form. (HEy you’re writing a blog you’re jfsiahfakk…)

I found my old scrapbook earlier! I think I started this around 3 years ago, and I have about 7 free pages left. They’re just scrappings of old magazine pages that I thought too precious to chuck away, but they’ve brought back a hella memories of my different tastes, and how my likes have changed. Lookee here:

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This is from the first page. As with all first pages, one always feels obliged to make A HUGE EFFORT so I even went 3D with it, by terrifyingly taping worry dolls down to the pages. I love the first few pages, because they showed that although I didn’t know what I wanted to do whilst scrapbooking, I was enthusiastic, and now when I look at everything altogether, those first pages seem so different, but still sweet.

Next, is this page about SUBCULTURE, which probably came hand in hand with my discovery of riot grrl and No Doubt. So, I’d fallen for Courtney- and these ‘Pamflet Commandments’ were my life mantra for a while. Pamflet, a former zine and now a website, was my first real education into feminism and how it’s the best lifestyle choice.

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“WWCD?”

And then comes the frantic scrapping, going out buying old poetry books, ripping and sticking. DH Lawrence remains a favourite poet, which I no doubt would have forgotten about if I hadn’t pasted him in my book.

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Also: fashion I liked, once. And still do. Hey, it’s in the book- I’ll always have a thing for everything in the book.

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Documented here is the first time I used COCKTAIL sticks for nail art. I’d badly and neatly scrapped a page full of Jean Seberg, after watching ‘Bonjour Tristesse’ so fucked it up with gross old nail art sticks. Better.

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Sometimes just for newspaper articles I’ve enjoyed:

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And now for the greatest thing of all. By this time, I’d pretty much got the hang of old magazine cut outs, I wanted something else that would feel a bit more personal to me. You know those pictures that you’d never post to the internet because you’re not in the right angle, you have too much sunburn, your smile is a bit too teethy? They’d make it into the book.

Prom photos that didn’t make the cut:

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And when I went to Barcelona with my friends. I have so many great photos, but these ones were too dark, or blurred- but now I prefer them for their imperfections. I think we try so hard to forget that some things aren’t completely perfect, everythings photoshopped, drunk status updates deleted. They still happened, moron.

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On a really drunk shopping spree through a souvenir shop, I tore this “100 euro” note off a toilet paper roll….id won the lottery

 

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And that’s that. I still have my seven or so pages to fill. It’s nice, because most of it is essentially rubbish, but when things are all collated together that you really like, you end up really really liking your scrapbook.

I’d love to hear about your guilty memories stashes.

Keep reading, and thanks for doing so.

Tara X

I’ve returned on the web… live in fear.

Woah woah woah, I am so glad to be back! For some reason, it appears that when the sun comes out, I feel like setting up a blog again. I started something up on Blogger (boo Blogger boo boo) but being totally inadaquete at anything technical, I stumbled across this and was actually quite impressed at my design, and looked back on my self a year ago and thought, WOW she probably spent 3 weeks frustrating over this, so I’ll try and revive it. 

Today was such a lovely day, and, as always with lovely days- I get an overwhelming feeling of wellbeing, followed by bouts of horrendous hay fever, so I feel all ethereal and summerlike, but look like a streaming, reddened mess. All is good as long as I stay away from mirrors (this is a general rule for someone like me.)

So, when I came back from school I sat on my bed, which quickly turned into a quick sit down before I started studying to a loungy, stretchy no pants sleep- and when I woke, the clouds had all completely gone, and I was in my warmed bedroom feeling invigorated by a COLOUR, blue skies come rarely and when they do it has such an effect on my mood. On the whole, I haven’t had a particularly wonderful wintertime, so seeing the sun and the prospect of spring into summer means more to me than I could ever explain.

I began to wonder whether, or how, we’re supposed to document these moments of serenity, of calm. Most people turn to instagram, or tweet it- which I am not opposed to, and am not about to write a long rant about (not today, anyway, har har har!)

I thought about maybe writing in my journal about it, so I went to pick up my pen, and thought what more can I write. I couldn’t possibly write how I felt because it was indescribable  it wasn’t even a feeling that could be described, more like a connection, a moment of content that had no words, compared to times when it’s so easy to write (when you’re SO super excited because you’ve fallen for a cute guy and he looked at you today- which basically means you have a reason to start doing that flicky thing with your eyeliner more because that is why he noticed you. Or if you’ve just discovered a new band, or really really want some new shoes, that’s when the words endlessly flow and often it’s hard to stop.)

I read somewhere recently there is no such thing as bad writing. I liked that, because it made me think as long as I’m writing, it’ll be here forever, and I can read back on it in the future, kind of like a photo album, but with words. Technology is weird right now, because it’s still in that adolescent stage where we don’t really know how we’re going to use it. For example, I can write in my diaries, and then read them back now, whenever I want, without an internet connection, just like people have been doing for centuries. My mum has endless photo albums of her life, and I like to make sure I print photos off/use disposable cameras cause I love how nice it is to look back on them, all pritt-sticked in with glitter and hand-written captions. But maybe I’m being too backward, we’ll all be looking at our photo albums, but online, on tablets, and maybe this isn’t a total bad thing? I still don’t know where I stand with the improving pace of technology. Technology gives me mixed signals, and I am not about that life

I got the awkward first post (kinda) out of the way. Now can I write another, please? ( I am- I’m about to write another, one with pictures! PHOTOS! Sometimes, just sometimes, the internet is such a THING.)

The title is optional, but I’m going to take the option

Hello all! I haven’t written in an age, but I’m feeling fresh and zen and kind of like a new person (woah, this REALLY MUST BE A MOOD SWING) so i thought I’d take advantage of this and try and write a post and re-greet my 5 followers!

I’d love to say that I’ve instantly become infatuated with this beautiful, wordy, blogging site, but being a 16 year old with a short attention span who has, since, writing this post been distracted by everything EVERYTHING including the grapes next to me, (grapes are so firm and juicy i love grapes) my dog (isnt he so fluffy) and the telly (did you know the sound of music was the best selling album of the 1960s?? Boss).

Anyway. I’ve been off school for nearly a month (going giddy at the thought of this) and I’ve been having the most wonderful time, doing little revision (I am motivated I am I am….okay yeah i’m not) and kind of just drinking a lot- but having fun, and that is the main thing. In fact, since the Jubilee shenanigans I haven’t really been out or done much- but maybe that’s because my mum has JUST got over her hangover (4 days people) and I kind of had a reality check.

Clothes, lets talk about clothes.

I’ve been reading a lot of magazines of recent (IT KIND OF COUNTS AS REVISING, I WANT TO BE A WRITER- HELLO!??!?!) and sometimes I truly believe that their is little passion, especially in the weeklies. Sex position of the week, Beauty under £5, Best Celebrity Tweets!

Good fun, but do I want to clog my mind with pictures of Tulisa’s cellulite? I just want to read something that will make me feel good about myself- even features in monthlies sometimes make me a bit depressed, such as ‘Is the Internet making us loners?’, ‘Are we living virtual lives?’

Its like c’mon now, show me some Valentino creations so I can sit down with a brew and get lost in this fantasy! I don’t GIVE A SHIT IF PATRICK KIELTY IS GOING OUT WITH CAT DEELEY

(i said I was in a good mood didnt i)

What have I been wearing?

What have I been wanting to wear, (I have mainly been wearing stolen clothes from my friends or just towels. A big towel is nice and so versatile)

With all the Royal stuff, pastel and pleats are in probably, see I dont even know, I’m just a recluse- but this makes me want to be all grunge even more it feels British to not want to wash for a week

This is the dream outfit for summer, not too short, not too LA!!!!!!!!!!!! A bit too chavvy, but definetely how I’m feeling

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I feel like I’ve outstayed my welcome. Please like this, because I genuinely feel like crying with ecstasy when i realise people read this. I’ll give your blog and browse too, we can all make each other’s day.

Remember to keep reading and walking about, watching people, learning. We’re learning every day

GBx

If you can’t stand the cold, get into the kitchen and heat yourself up in the oven

I just got an email offering work experience at Bliss magazine! Proper natural high- feeling good. Eastenders is on too, AND I’m eating a whole packet of hobnobs (dgaf yolo) AND our heating has just been fixed so I’m no longer sitting in a house that may as well be in Antarctica, (like I have been for the last week. Being able to see your breath inside a house during April isn’t the norm)

We started back at school at the start of this week, its okay- well- actually it could be a WHOLE load of better, but I totally get the importance of education, I just wish it wouldn’t be quite so- annoying. Anyway, I’m not going to go on about that now- maybe for another day when I can actually write a balanced insightful post rather than a whiney first-world post about how much SCHOOL SUX

With the hope of summer and all, things are looking up. Usually, looking forward to the summer is usually better than actual summer, which is spent indoors in humid bedrooms- as it rains summer rain outside and you quietly read Jacqueline Wilson books and drink orange squash. Maybe you don’t do this, maybe you’re outside getting with boys you don’t really know at camp-outs, but to be fair, the nicest thing about the summer is the way that it is too long and lazy and gorgeous you do need those days where you just have to sit in bed all day listening to the radio, lest you become tooooo exhausted with the hectic social schedule that is ‘Summer’

When I think about summer, the first image I get is in italy, in the house that my grandfather built. I’m not sure why, as we don’t spend EVERY summer there (my mums Irish and slathering on Factor 30 whilst staying indoors from 11-4 isn’t exactly a holiday), but the way it feels (sleepy) the way it smells (pasta/sunshine/wine) and the weather, (erm, sunny) sums up the perfect getaway in my mind for what summer is really like.

Now, sitting in my kitchen on a cold (but increasingly warmer, thanks Heating Fixer guy) house, looking outside to the church and staring at my dog who is sitting so close to the heater it is possible that he could set alight, I wonder whether the idea of the Perfect Summer Paradise is purely imaginative, as paradise is all inside your head. Fair, it helps if you’re sunbathing, with a Woo Woo in one hand, and a fag in the other, but summer lasts 2 weeks tops, and then you’re back in September, in your woolies wishing for summer again.

Imagine if people loved January as much as they loved August- like ‘BUZZIN!!! JANUARYS GONNA BE SO GOOD 2K12!!!’ I have never heard anyone say anything good about January. Even Jan 1st is a bit bland, after the countdown, you enter the new year regretting what you’ve done in the last few hours in the drunken haze, and then spending your first £20 of the year on the sorrowful taxi home

The idea that summer is all hot LA girls in Levi shorts eating ice lollies doesn’t get me…buzzin’

I will do a proper photoset of summery things soon. My internet connection is being HORRENDOUS (our house is crumbling away)

Meanwhile, follow me on @taralepore

I suck at that too…I am a massive disappointment but hopefully you enjoy that throughout all the perfection on the internet (half sarcasm)

Here’s a video to get you into the summer mood. A little cringey, but you can’t deny you love it, ‘holy cow i love your eyes’

Begin the countdown sweeties, GB x

Dear catastrophe waitress

I was at work today. I waitress every Saturday at an italian restaurant. I am actually italian, so it feels quite good to be around people that my grandparents were friends with. 

There is something quite glamourous about waitresses. I mean, in music, waitresses are hyped about for some reason, but in reality all waitressing does is smudge your eyeliner (I think I just need to invest in some new eyeliner- see yesterdays post) and make your hair smell like pizza. I say music glamourises waitressing, I’m not entirely sure whether it really does- I just really adore belle and sebastian and after reading the Celestial Café, Stuart seems pretty hyped up about the idea of shitty, broken waitresses.

It has helped me to talk to people though, as essentially thats what I get paid for, that, and sprinkling parmesan over carbonaras. I get loads of ideas from the people I meet for characters which helps me write journal entries or short stories (some of which I might post if you behave)

Fashionably, my job isn’t couture-like. In fact, it’s similar to schoolwear, apart from I get to wear a skirt that makes my ass look real good. I can’t even paint my nails, which I can for school. Well, I’m not allowed technically- but schools only really fun if you break the rules loads

If I were to post an outfit for what I think of when I think of waitressing, no pretense allowed (i.e no geek glasses, pleated skirts etc) here it is:

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Bit bland isn’t it. Its smart, I suppose- and unfortunately a small Italian restaurant in an unimportant city in England isn’t exactly New York Fashion Week. There is something quite nice about a dress code, though- if I went to work dressing as I pleased- I’d probably get fired for being insane

At work today, I watched a man on the table outside drinking a morning coffee as the sun rose up. The decor of the place is supposed to look authentically Italian, and in some ways I suppose it is, EVERYTHING i’ve ever prepared, cleaned, or polished says Made in Italy on it. Seeing the lone man drink his coffee made me think of the Style Councils ‘Cafe Bleu’ album. I don’t even know much about this album, what the critics thought of it, whether it’s considered Good Paul or Bad Weller, but I love this. My dad has it on vinyl and I discovered it. Properly atmospheric cafe music

I’m a little sleepy, and I’m gonna go curl up and watch the Virgin Suicides. I’ve never seen it, and I hope it’s good. If it’s bad then I’ll fall asleep, and that will be good too. So no time wasted here.

The cafe in Amelie looks similar to where I work, which is a perk, a perk I can’t tell my colleagues because they’ll think I’m much too bookish~~

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Remember to tip. GB x