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#Gramspam

lady gaga

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wQdcCiVb59g

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I spent a lot of my holidays with my brain and phone off, which was rather delicious. During the coconut & colada reclining sesh, I did however view the above video.

Being a (former) Gaga skeptic, I planned to dedicate approx five minutes of my demanding schedule to the ‘clown’ – who quickly slapped my ignorance in the face with absolute brilliance.

For once I am not going to impose my opinions on y’all- instead I’ve decided to leave the link to the hour long interview here, for leisurely viewing.

The video perfectly articulates my views on social media and mental health/ illness– SO, SO ELOQUENTLY.

As the techno slaves we are swiftly becoming, It’s more important than ever to gain some control over the shit that now determines our moods.

So, I thought I would use this platform to lightly suggest some worthy Gram follows.

(Randomly) listed below are some of the accounts that keep me #stable, #happy, #inspired and #LOLing through this thang’ called life, in 2016!

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To Market with the Hippie- Wanna-be’s.

Just watched this hilarious piss taking of the new age ethical living/ hippy culture which summed up this blog post perfectly… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnbtRiLamsw

Alternative Thoughts

Sunday Morning: a magical period of time often spent harbouring hang overs, marinating in bed before brunching;  training for a marathon or participating in the coolest activity right now: visiting the markets.

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I know I know, markets have been around forever, certainly before mass production took over (when we actually knew WTF was in our produce).

Like everything though, trends are cyclical, being regurgitated by different generations for differing purposes.

While I don’t want to be overly neggy on this summery Sunday, my recent trip to the local farmers market has left me slightly cynical about the marketers and their free luvin’ vibe.

A quick round of the vegan- tree hugging grounds, enhanced by the sounds of the dread locked musos, and sight of bare foot, bra-less locals moving organically to the beats, only highlights just how squeaky clean, westernised and outa’ place I am.

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Despite being born and raised…

View original post 546 more words

To Market with the Hippie- Wanna-be’s.

Sunday Morning: a magical period of time often spent harbouring hang overs, marinating in bed before brunching;  training for a marathon or participating in the coolest activity right now: visiting the markets.

10942789_10155124786630182_1648551081_n

I know I know, markets have been around forever, certainly before mass production took over (when we actually knew WTF was in our produce).

Like everything though, trends are cyclical, being regurgitated by different generations for differing purposes.

While I don’t want to be overly neggy on this summery Sunday, my recent trip to the local farmers market has left me slightly cynical about the marketers and their free luvin’ vibe.

A quick round of the vegan- tree hugging grounds, enhanced by the sounds of the dread locked musos, and sight of bare foot, bra-less locals moving organically to the beats, only highlights just how squeaky clean, westernised and outa’ place I am.

10927904_10155124786555182_79288080_n

Despite being born and raised in the area in which the markets are held, and the fact that my curly hair and apparent ‘free- spirit’ has often lead others to assume I am a market regular, my supportive bra, boutique bought (probably sweat shop produced) clothing and foot wear suggests that I may have missed the memo.

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I am referring to the memo set by fellow gen Y’ers, the ones waltzing around shoe-less, coconut in one hand, smart phone in the other, with freshly coloured and straightened hair framing their make up covered (pierced) faces, who are often found patting random dogs without holding a convo with the owner, but ensuring a selfie is captured.

While I made a conscious effort to not be confused by the Tiger Lilly ($$$) bikinis layered under a cheap Bali dress, or the Converse and other labels bearded (grubby looking) lads feature, and drop the judgement in a hippy- like way, I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculouseness of the babe in front of me in the veggie line.

hippie-rainbow-girl

Not only did the gal reject my smile, she overtly stole the bananas out of my go- green bag because ‘they were the ones she was looking at’, before taking a photo of her produce.

It was when her BF questioned whether they were ‘gram- worthy’ and she responded with  a “please, I have over 12 K followers 😉” that my sister had to restrain me from tossing oranges at her head.

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While it would be hypocritical of me to diss anyone gramming’ their activities, embracing the hippy vibe and mixing simple necessities with modern day luxuries, I can’t help but feel as confused as these coconuts seem.

“These days it seems every bae needs to have a fixie push bike with a basket and fresh daises attached to it”

As we all know, the raw, vegan, organic, animal loving + western world hating trend is growing rapidly. What I don’t get is how this is juxtaposed by the popping of poisonous pills and frequent weed consumption?! While I am aware that no cows were harmed in the process, surely such activities are doing more damage than a chicken parmi?

Organic living has become a  fashionable trend (for some) that is just as costly as a processed one, and is not necessarily more morally correct.

Despite my expectations, no one at the hippy farm is any friendlier than the local Woolies customers, in fact an air of snobbery and superiority seems to float between the peppermint trees.

hippies

Not only are western- hating comments dropped regularly around the market (and therefore chairs must be avoided) little gratitude or appreciation is ever shown for the luxurious life we are able to live; one of freedom and safety, made a little easier by one-stop shops.

As made obvious by some of my previous posts, I am all for healthy living and exploring of different cultures, ways of life etc. I think it’s really great that we are reverting to our old ways and avoiding cancerous chemicals where we can! I just don’t see any point in pretending that we are living a HIPPIE life, when we return to our cushy beds each night, to check the gram.

That is all I’ve got to say today, Namaste bitches!

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Tis’ The Season For Tear Cut Commentary!

As the champers flowed, laughs got louder and day got warmer/ colder, recent christmas festivities were enjoyed by many generations of people surrounded by our loved ones.

To much of grandma’s delight, this meant that some of us were putting our phones down and actually engaging with the fam, at least to devour some turkey.

Luckily, the breaks between meals (formerly used for siestas) provided a window for a quick scroll through the thousands of selfie stick captures (mine included) many of which featured awkward uncles and dorky jumpers (so wild!).

Having spent less time in cyber space, my toilet entertainment also involved a flood of #heputaringonit & #taken announcements.

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Apparently it was also the season for knee bending – celebrated of course with a perfectly filtered and framed close up of #THERING!!!!!!!!!

Now to be honest, my childhood dreams rarely featured a virgin-white dress and sexy stallion, the idea of prancing down a church aisle to shit- sounding organs seemed as appealing as homework and Brussel sprouts.

I don’t reject the idea of marriage- committing myself to some one I love and having the same promised to me #4eva is a thought I’ve entertained on occasion (I do love love after all).

I just think that the blissful event can be blown out of control, particularly when thousands of dollars are wasted on feeding hated relatives.

Much to my mothers disgust, there’s something else that also seems irrelevant to me. Actually to be honest, it really does my head in. And that is: ring talk.

If i was to psycho- anaylze myself- I would probably reference my time spent working in retail in a rather affluent suburb as the initial cause of my frustrations.

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While the witnessing of old men taking their old wrinkly wife shopping one day, and their young model the next was sickening in itself, it was the mini mountains that encased the long bronzed perfectly manicured fingers of many customers and the convos shared between customers themselves and with my colleagues, which lead to many toilet breaks.

“Ohhh stunnnnningggg”

“DEVINEEEEE”

“EXQUISITE”

“He must really love you!”

“You’re a lucky girl”

“Is that a __ (insert exclusive Italian jewler name here) ?”

” 7 or 10 carrats? ”

[WITHOUT A HELLO, HOW ARE YOU?]

… you get the gist.

Now, I know that many reading will be thinking “you’ve never been engaged/ married so who are you to judge?” #jelly #hatersgonhate etc etc. And rightly so!

To be fair though, I do have an appreciation for beautiful jewellery including diamonds, even if they aren’t my best friend. I can also understand the significance of wedding bands, as well as the buzz of emotion that love and commitment brings (and therefore need to share it virtually).

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I just don’t think the size and quality of a rock has ANYTHING to do with the union it symbolises. More so, a massive rock aint no band-aid for a shitty relationship either (ask the shrinks).

However, many people seem to think so, and of course, the media don’t help.

A few Fridays before santa came to town I was sipping on some yummy vino at Friday dranks in the city. I was sat next to a friend of a friend who had tagged along, providing much entertainment as she gushed about her past and present (3 month) relationships, and the exact details of the ring her boi knows she wants.

“Bless her”, I thought.

That was until she had another glass and starting digging into a colleague she felt had betrayed her, by the way she had portrayed her marital bliss and the amazing ring that symbolised it.

You see, the girl had been lead to expect a solid rock, and was left speech less when the colleague  returned from her honey moon.

“It’s a piece of shit! so small! why would she say it was nice?” the bitch then proceeded to laugh for too long.

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Sadly, such thoughts and comments infect the feeds of loved up instagrammers, particularly those with a famous profile.

While I was getting my nails done in the local Vietnamese parlour today, the usual silence of the  place was contrasted by the up roar of opinions provided by staff and clients in response to Jesinta Campbell’s new bling in a clients magazine. I bit my tongue heavily as the private relationship AND RING was scrutinised.

So… I guess it is everywhere. Thanks to the naughty Daily Mail columns, many of us have been programmed to pay unhealthy attention to women’s boobs, arses and guts, and to measure their value by their bling bling.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. This is fucked up and needs to change.

One’s marital status, and the presence/ state of their ring has nothing to do with their value as a human being.

Maybe I will marry a jeweller in a Catholic church and regret every word of this, but until then I will continue to avoid every ring- focused convo.

Happy New Years!