Baking is my comfort

When some people have a bad day, they drink.  Some people punch walls.  Some people go for a run.  Some people bury themselves in their work.

Not I.

This world does not drive me to drink and drugs.

Not me.

This world drives me to baking.

 

Floss dog is dying.

And so...and so...I bake.

The things no-one else notices

I have parts of my body which I think are beautiful, parts which other people do not notice.  And I believe that while most of the world does not notice these things, someone who truly loves me would notice them every single day.  I'm not sure if everyone has body parts they feel this way about, but I'd like to think so.

Tell me I have beautiful eyes, that you love my smile, or that my bum is sexy...and I might be yours for the day.  

You see a pretty girl, and that's a compliment I am happy to receive.

But tell me how beautiful my hands are, how you love the way my hair glows like fire in the evening sun or that the angles my hip bones make from under my skin drive you wild with desire...and I might just be yours for life.  

You see Anna, you see me.

I'll have a box of baby sloths please

To-Do Before I Die List

1. Have a job which mainly involves carrying boxes of baby sloths

Not even kidding.  This is so on the list.

Sweet seat swivelling

After much deliberation and frantic Ebaying, I am the proud owner of a swivel for my passenger seat.  I intend to make this and the base of the seat into a mini-safe.

Let's hope it fits!

100 books challenge...1 year on

On this day 1 year ago...I wrote about my progress on my 100 books challenge.  On that day I had ticked off precisely 22 out of 100, and today...

1. Don Quixote Miguel De Cervantes

2. Pilgrim's Progress John Bunyan

3. Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe

4. Gulliver's Travels Jonathan Swift

5. Tom Jones Henry Fielding 

6. Clarissa Samuel Richardson

7. Tristram Shandy Laurence Sterne

8. Dangerous Liaisons Pierre Choderlos De Laclos

9. Emma Jane Austen

10. Frankenstein Mary Shelley

11. Nightmare Abbey Thomas Love Peacock

12. The Black Sheep Honore De Balzac

13. The Charterhouse of Parma Stendhal

14. The Count of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas

15. Sybil Benjamin Disraeli

16. David Copperfield Charles Dickens

17. Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte

18. Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte

19. Vanity Fair William Makepeace Thackeray

20. The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne

21. Moby-Dick Herman Melville

22. Madame Bovary Gustave Flaubert

23. The Woman in White Wilkie Collins

24. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland Lewis Carroll

25. Little Women Louisa M. Alcott

26. The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope

27. Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy

28. Daniel Deronda George Eliot

29. The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky

30. The Portrait of a Lady Henry James

31. Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain

32. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde Robert Louis Stevenson

33. Three Men in a Boat Jerome K. Jerome

34. The Picture of Dorian Gray Oscar Wilde

35. The Diary of a Nobody George Grossmith

36. Jude the Obscure Thomas Hardy

37. The Riddle of the Sands Erskine Childers

38. The Call of the Wild Jack London

39. Nostromo Joseph Conrad

40. The Wind in the Willows Kenneth Grahame

41. In Search of Lost Time Marcel Proust

42. The Rainbow D. H. Lawrence

43. The Good Soldier Ford Madox Ford

44. The Thirty-Nine Steps John Buchan

45. Ulysses James Joyce

46. Mrs Dalloway Virginia Woolf

47. A Passage to India E. M. Forster

48. The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald

49. The Trial Franz Kafka

50. Men Without Women Ernest Hemingway

51. Journey to the End of the Night Louis-Ferdinand Celine

52. As I Lay Dying William Faulkner

53. Brave New World Aldous Huxley

54. Scoop Evelyn Waugh

55. USA John Dos Passos

56. The Big Sleep Raymond Chandler

57. The Pursuit Of Love Nancy Mitford

58. The Plague Albert Camus

59. Nineteen Eighty-Four George Orwell

60. Malone Dies Samuel Beckett

61. Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger

62. Wise Blood Flannery O'Connor

63. Charlotte's Web E. B. White

64. The Lord Of The Rings J. R. R. Tolkien

65. Lucky Jim Kingsley Amis

66. Lord of the Flies William Golding

67. The Quiet American Graham Greene

68 On the Road Jack Kerouac

69. Lolita Vladimir Nabokov

70. The Tin Drum Gunter Grass

71. Things Fall Apart Chinua Achebe

72. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie Muriel Spark

73. To Kill A Mockingbird Harper Lee

74. Catch-22 Joseph Heller

75. Herzog Saul Bellow

76. One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez

77. Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont Elizabeth Taylor

78. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy John Le Carre

79. Song of Solomon Toni Morrison

80. The Bottle Factory Outing Beryl Bainbridge

81. The Executioner's Song Norman Mailer

82. If on a Winter's Night a Traveller Italo Calvino

83. A Bend in the River V. S. Naipaul

84. Waiting for the Barbarians J.M. Coetzee

85. Housekeeping Marilynne Robinson

86. Lanark Alasdair Gray

87. The New York Trilogy Paul Auster

88. The BFG Roald Dahl

89. The Periodic Table Primo Levi

90. Money Martin Amis

91. An Artist of the Floating World Kazuo Ishiguro

92. Oscar And Lucinda Peter Carey

93. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting Milan Kundera

94. Haroun and the Sea af Stories Salman Rushdie

95. La Confidential James Ellroy

96. Wise Children Angela Carter

97. Atonement Ian McEwan

98. Northern Lights Philip Pullman

99. American Pastoral Philip Roth

100. Austerlitz W. G. Sebald

...I am up to 40! 18 in one year and now feeling quite unreasonably proud of myself.

High point - The Great Gatsby.  Hauntingly beautiful.

Low point - Don Quixote.  Yes it's number one in the list so my dislike is clearly due to me being uncultured gutter scum...but I just found it so pointlessly repetitive.  Sorry literary world. 

Purpose paradox

I am counting down the days until I leave my job.  My job is great, it has flexible hours which suits me, and it has provided me with the funding I need to execute my master plan, but it is so unsatisfying to me.

For me, my job seems pointless.  Utterly pointless.

For me, a job which does not add value directly to others, a job which is not fulfilling the actual genuine needs of others, is pointless.  It is not enough for me to create the software on the phone which is used for the emergency callout, I need to be the paramedic breathing life back into the patient to feel as if I have made a difference.  I honestly found working as a cleaner in a care home for Alzheimer's patients more satisfying than my current job.

It is as if I need to serve others in order to feel my own life is of value.

On the surface, this sounds great.  I could travel the world working as a volunteer for life-changing humanitarian projects and feel as if my own life was of value.

And what's wrong with that?  

Nothing is wrong with that, of course it isn't.  But something is out of line, the logic is paradoxical. For my life to have purpose, I need to help others.  Yet by that same standard, if I am helping those who are not living to help others, then their lives must also lack purpose.

How can adding to the lives of those who lack purpose make my own life purposeful?

Of course, it can't.  It is a paradox.  What this means is that helping others can not be the purpose of living.  That doesn't mean it isn't worthwhile, I still intend to do a lot of volunteering.  But it shouldn't be your source of purpose and meaning in life, because it cannot fulfill this need.  I need to do some serious re-thinking...

Old habits

 

In November I had laser eye surgery, it took my brain about a week to unlearn 23 years of right eye dominance.  7 days to rewire 23 years of neurological pathways.

Quite impressive.  Quite fascinating.  And yet what I find more fascinating is that almost three months later, I still want to wear my glasses.  When I am tired, when I feel ill, at the end of a long day, I want to wear them.

So I do.  I popped the lenses out weeks ago.  I put them on, and I feel as if I can see more clearly.  I genuinely do.  I feel as if I can see more clearly, through my glasses with no lenses in.

The habits I can't break speak volumes about who I am.

Hostel freak

I adore hostels.  Give me a hostel any day over a fancy hotel.  But I, and anyone else who has ever stayed in a hostel, is most likely familiar with a certain kind of person.

The odd one out.  You would never say anything nasty to them of course, but maybe you don't strike up a conversation with them like you would with the more regular-seeming guests.  You don't even say anything about them to your companions (at least not while they are in the room!), but maybe you stare at them for just a second longer than perhaps you should.  Let's just be honest, they aren't merely the odd one out, they are the hostel freak.

Charleston, South Carolina. The woman who wandered around in a full length evening gown at 3 am, neither going to or returning from anywhere at all. 

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  The man who formulated a toga from his bed sheet while he did his washing, and proceed to swirl and twirl and flounce his way about the place.

Manchester, England.  Me.

I stayed in a hostel the night after having laser eye surgery.  I swanned around the hostel in my sunglasses the previous evening, pretending to myself that I was a famous celebrity.  When my dorm-mates entered the room for the first time at 9 pm, there I was, in bed, reading, with sunglasses on.  They looked a little scared when I cheerily greeted them, their English didn't seem quite up to understanding the concept of LASIK.

The next morning, whether it was caused by the eye drops, the heat or the sleep deprivation due to the incessant snoring of said dorm-mates I do not know, but what I do know is that I did proceed to pass out in the bathroom.  Twice.  Cue very loud crashes and one ghostly white, bruised and battered me sitting on the bedroom floor dripping with sweat until I felt human again.  They didn't ask if I was OK, but they did stare.  I concluded they probably thought I was on drugs.

I'm not sure I have ever felt more socially outcast in my life.  Not as the only white person for miles in rural Tanzania, with every passing child shouting "White person" at me.  Not amongst the public school kids at the Cambridge University interview day I accompanied a friend to, where every word I spoke betrayed my differences.  Nope, I felt more like a leper sitting on that Manchester hostel bedroom floor, trying my very best not to cry.

I slunk out of the hostel with my sunglasses on, bruises and bumps slowly spreading across my face, dejectedly clutching a coffee and looking more like a beaten wife on the run than a fabulous celebrity undercover amongst the lowly normals.

So next time you find yourself in a hostel, if you notice the hostel freak, maybe just make that extra effort to treat them the same as you do everyone else.

You never know when it could be your turn!

Van seat tidies...done

Back in September, I had an idea to make seat tidies for my van.

Well I have finally got round to making them over my Christmas break...andI'm pretty pleased with how they turned out...

They werent that hard to make and they are definitely so much more useful than anything I could have bought!

Love without limits

 
We seem to live in a culture which is fixated on rules.  Happiness is x, family is y, wealth is this, love is that.  Rules are just fine, I have no problem with them.  But what about when they don't quite relate to the concept they are supposed to be explaining?

Love and relationships seem to be particularly susceptible to these misguided ideals.  It's almost as if we think the more rules we wrap love in, the more controllable it is, the more easily we can possess it.

So we create a series of increasingly elaborate hoops for ourselves and our partners to jump through in order to prove that love is there.  Like we are trying to catch ourselves out, trying to prove the absence of love.  Rules and rituals for special occasions, social events, physical contact.  None of these rules are inherently wrong, most of the things they demand of us are part of many healthy loving relationships.  But in isolation, the presence of each one does not equal love, nor does their absence equal the loss of love.

So why, when we can happily accept flexibility in certain rules, are we so inflexible in others?

Like fidelity.

Sex does not equal love.  One-night stands and the sex industry exists, regardless of what we may think of it.  Sexual fidelity does not equal love.  We all know that, we have all seen loveless yet faithful marriages.  So why then must love equal sexual fidelity?

Forcing such a rule limits the value of sex.  I am not about to start discussing the merits of particular relationship choices, mainly because I think it is incredibly difficult to espouse one relationship style without denying others.  For those who wish to expand the cultural norm of monogamous relationships, promoting polygamy to the point of denying the value of mongamy seems quite counter-intuitive.

So yes, fidelity may limit the value of sex.  That is sad. 

But what is heart-breaking is that fidelity may limit love.  Regardless of whether you want to sleep with 1 or 1000 people or whether you are faithful or not.  Positioning fidelity as the core component of love limits what love can be.

Because love is not sex.  Love is not fidelity.  Love is love, why must it be anything else in order to exist?

This theory may feel logically acceptable, but yet we are still so quick to deny love when fidelity is absent.  

I struggle to align my rationality with my encultured emotional response.  I want an open relationship, I want to learn to love without limits.  And yet... I feel jealousy at the slightest suggestion of sharing those I do not even love.  

This culture runs through my veins and binds my hands in more ways and with more strength than I like to admit. 

Another day, another year

“For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.” T.S. Eliot

Last year, I shared my slight hatred for New Year's Eve.  This year, I feel the same.

Last year, my New Year's resolutions were...

1. Buy a van - done
2. Begin the conversion- done
3. Finish my Cognitive Psychology module without going insane - done...I think!

In reality, these are what I would call cheating resolutions though.  They aren't things that I wouldn't otherwise have done, they are just my plans for the year.

I could easily pick resolutions for this year like finish the van, finish my degree and leave the UK, but they would be cheating resolutions too.

So I'm choosing something which wouldn't "just happen", something which will be hard every day, something which I believe will make my life better if I can achieve it.

I resolve to find something I am grateful for every single day.  It will be my first thought every morning. 

I want to be so excited at the sight of each new day, to be filled with happiness and gratitude from the moment I wake up.  This is the first step.

What's your favourite Christmas song?

This is mine - I Believe In Father Christmas by Greg Lake.  It is the only Christmas song which I can listen to on repeat without going insane, the only which gives me goosebumps when I hear it for the first time each year.  The perfect mix of heartache, hope and sleigh bells.

Words to live by

These are the words which sing to me.  They push me to do more in good times and calm my sobs in bad times.  

Sometimes I wish I could pay someone to follow me around and say this to me every time I need to hear it.  Because whenever I need reminding of it most, it always seems to slip my mind.  Oh the irony.

Happy Christmas World.  You are beautiful, I just know it.

John Rylands Library

 

If you ever find yourself in Manchester, make sure to visit the John Rylands Library.  

"A library? Why would I want to visit a library?" you might ask...well just trust me on this one, it is stunning.

From the hundreds of unique carved stone gargoyles to the enormous ancient leather bound books that line the walls, it is simply beautiful.  By far the most incredible building I have visited in a long time.

As I wasn't expecting it to be quite so special, I didn't take my camera along - so apologies for the poor quality phone pics.

 

I will certainly be revisiting this library on every future trip I make to Manchester for the forseeable future.  

I'm not sure I could be much more in love with a building than I am with this place!

 

Missing you

How long can you miss someone for before the person you miss disappears?

How many years does it take before the person you miss has changed so much that they are no longer who you miss any more?

How long does it take for the bad moments to be erased from memory, and the good moments to be changed into perfect ones?

For the memories you hold so dear to change and distort until who you are missing is not even the person they once were?

 

I'm not the kind of girl who looks at a horse and immediately sees a unicorn... but every day I wait for you.  Every day I miss you.  How long does it take before the unicorn is all that is left in view?

On being needed

 

My friend, the one who used to call me up when all he wanted to do was slit his wrists, the one who held me while I cried my way through my mother's cancer fight, has just had a baby with his fiancee.  I didn't even know she was pregnant.

Another friend, the one who I have travelled thousands of miles with, the one who guided me down the path to finding my faith, has just had major surgery.  I didn't even know she was sick.

Ouch.  How could these people, who mean so much to me, not share their darkest and their brightest moments with me any more?  Do I mean nothing to them any more?

 

Once my initial reactions of anger subsided, I changed perspective and changed my mind.  These two people didn't tell, not because I mean nothing to them, but because they now have people in their lives who simply mean more.  They both have partners who support them through their highs and their lows, so they don't need to look elsewhere for their fulfillment any more.  They don't need me.  This shouldn't make me angry with them, it should make me happy that the person they have chosen to spend their lives with is sufficient for their needs.  They are happy.

 

More worrying though, was that because they no longer need me, I instantly assumed they no longer loved me.

Why do I have to feel needed in order to feel loved?  

 

I tell myself that I want someone who is my equal, who inspires me to do more, who is always one step ahead of me.  

 

So why is there still some malfunctional ridiculous part of me which has to be depended upon in order to feel loved? 

Laser eye surgery review

In November I had LASIK laser eye surgery with Optimax in Manchester.  I can absolutely 100% recommend it...already I cannot believe how I managed with how bad my eyesight was before I had it done.

Here are my top 10 tips and advice...

1. Go to your own optician for advice before you consider going to a clinic.  You then get the peace of mind that you have some advice from an impartial person who you can be sure hasn't been told to try and sell you the procedure.
2. In my opinion, there isn't much difference between the "Big Three" clinics - Optimax, Utralase and Optical Express.  They all offer free lifetime aftercare, similar procedures with similar equipment.  They also all offer free consultations - go and see them, ask questions, get quotes and make up your own mind!
3. Optimax Manchester are excellent.  I felt relaxed, valued and didn't feel like I was being sold to.  The aftercare they gave me was great.  The only slight negative of my experience was that no-one really talked me through the procedure to the extent that I expected from previous hospital experiences.  I did receive sufficient information that I felt confident in my surgeon's experience though so this was more an issue based on personal preference than a genuine problem.
4. If you are getting both eyes done...don't go to the clinic alone.  Yes you probably would be able to see just about well enough to get home on your own, but if you are anything like me you just won't feel like making the effort.  I only had one eye done so thought I would be fine alone, but honestly the 10 minute walk afterwards was pretty torturous.
5. It doesn't hurt.  The procedure isn't particularly comfortable, but there is no pain.  And it is so quick.  Like amazingly, worryingly quick.  Brilliant.
6. You might want to consider carefully when you schedule getting it done.  I felt really drained for about a week afterwards, my eyes were very light-sensitive and focussing on a computer screen was really difficult.  Also my eye has a rather un-photogenic red mark on it which still hasn't completely faded 3 weeks later.
7. You might not feel quite like yourself for a while afterwards.  By about 3 pm each day, I was more than ready to lie in a quiet dark room for half an hour.  I think I found it harder to adjust because I only had one eye done, my brain had to un-learn 23 years of right eye dominance.  Considering this took one week, this is pretty amazing.  But for the first week, it was hard.  The world was so bright and fast I literally could not keep up with it.  It's very difficult to describe but I felt like I had to re-learn how to see.
8. Despite the side effects, these cons do not outweigh the pros in any way.  They are not reasons not to have it done, just reasons to consider carefully the timing of when you do it.
9. It is nowhere near as big a deal as people make it out to be.  Too expensive?  Cheaper than decades of glasses and opticians appointments.  Won't work?  The statistics say otherwise.  Not safe?  Yes, there are risks.  Read about them, understand them, but realise that risk is inherent in life and some risks are worth taking. 
10. It works.  Not only does it work, it works immediately.  Immediately.  Just wow.

So yes, I am officially in the laser eye surgery club.  Best choice in a long time!

Also...I have 2 x £500 off vouchers for Optimax treatments, if you are interested hit me up with your contact details at annapearce5683@gmail.com (UK only please)

How to make Canal Art

Step One - find a suitable canal-like item! My mum was given a stupid watering can flower arrangement thingy, and she asked me to decorate the can for her once the flowers had died.

Step Two - use squared paper to find out the area you have to play with, and prepare a rough design.  There are some good canal art websites around and trusty Google images to point you in the right style directions.  I just pulled some elements I liked from various pieces in order to create my design.

Step Three - base coat.  Start with the items which you want to have at the back overlapped by other items...like the leaves.  Top tip - use acrylic paint and not oil paint - I used oils and it didnt dry on the metal at all so I had to take it all off and start again.  Nail remover gets paint off the metal nicely though so is also great for tidying up at the end!

Step Four - middle coat.  Bases for roses, swirly bits etc.  I used this awesome helping tip from good old Google...

http://www.chestercanalheritagetrust.co.uk/Canalart.htm

Step Five - top coat.  Top layer of the roses and leaves as shown above...and some nice dainty decorative spots.

And ta dah!

Happy Christmas Mum :)

Things I used to be ok with

Me in the distance at Castlerigg Stone Circle, Cumbria

I seem to be entering a time of change.  I don't know whether this is me subconsciously preparing myself to get ready to leave on my travels, or if new events have led me into a state of flux, but I do know that things that used to seem ok are suddenly not ok...

Like being alone.  I used to be able to be alone in a sea of couples, friendship groups, families and think to myself "Look at me so independent and capable of handling this situation by myself!".  

But that was last year.  When I sat in the waiting room at the laser eye surgery clinic before my treatment, I looked around at the other people in the room.  Everyone else was there with a family member.  

Every single person.  

People who were quietly whispering to them, reassuringly touching them, silently supporting them.  

And I didn't think "Look at me so independent...".  

No.  

All I could think was "Look at them...so loved."

Manchester Christmas Markets

I have been spending far too much time in Manchester recently for my aftercare appointments for my laser eye surgery (total success by the way - more to come soon!), and I can definitely recommend that if you are ever in the area from late November onwards then the Christmas Markets are definitely worth checking out.

You can find more info on the Council website here, but essentially its street after street of the sweetest temporary wooden chalets filled with all the Christmassy goodness imaginable!

From Christmas decs to jewellery, cards to wooden toys, there is a nice mix of stuff to see.  Personally I thought it was quite pricey so maybe not the place to find some Christmas present deals, but it made for a nice hours wander and exploration.

And the food! Oh the food...cheeses and cocktails and schnitzel and pancakes and waffles and sweets and fudge and macaroons and mulled wine and stew and ohhhhhhhhh so much yummy food (plus there are free tasters...which I greatly approve of).

Add to all the amazingly delicious smells the sound of buskers playing Christmas carols, and this experience definitely got me in the mood for Christmas!  And given I usually find all the Christmas stuff which appears in November annoying at best, this is quite an achievement.

So congrats Manchester, your Christmas markets rock!

Odds Are, You Probably Don't Exist

My mind likes this...a lot :)

Odds Are, You Probably Don't Exist:

Author Ali Binazir calculates the odds that you exist, as you are, today. Surprisingly, the answer is basically 0. Click here to enlarge.

Source: My Boyfriend That Really Likes Statistics

Source: visually.visually.netdna-cdn.com / via: npr.org

Places dripping with people

Topkapi Palace, Istanbul

Ask someone to name their favourite places in the world and they will probably happily name you a few.

I would pick Miami and Istanbul.

Ask them to explain why they love these places and they will probably give some reasons about the weather, the sights, the food, the nightlife, the landscape etc.

I love Miami because the weather is perfect, the beach is awesome and it is in the middle of the most perfect tropical paradise imaginable.  I love Istanbul because it is the most incredible blend of Eastern and Western culture, the Islamic architecture and history is simply stunning.

But if you ask them to tell you what they did there, sure you will get the sightseeing or the nights out that relate back to the reasons why they love it.  More often than not though, they will tell you about the people they were there with.  

I went to Miami with my ex.  I was young and completely in love.  I look back on that time as the high point in our relationship.

Like it or not, the most perfect sunshine and beautiful buildings and fabulous things to do are not what makes us love a place.  Not what makes us choose it as our favourite place in the world.  It is the people, the interactions, the relationships that make the memories.

When places are tied to people, going back can be a strange experience.  The streets are the same, the sights the sounds the smells are all familiar, but somehow... everything is different.  The silence of missing voices hangs in the warm summer air, thoughts of lost loves and old friends drip from the buildings themselves.  Nothing is the same.

Every time I return to Manchester, I cannot shake the thoughts of an old friend who used to live there.  Every street, every building brings back echoes of his voice, memories of his face.  I dread going to Manchester simply because of the heartache it brings.  Manchester itself did nothing to deserve that. 

I would love to go back to Miami, but I don't know if I ever will, no matter how many chances are offered to me.  Relationships may come and go, but I couldn't bear to fall out of love with that city.