Typing Typing Typing

Thursday 28 November 2019

Typing Typing Typing

I have a typewriter on my desk in my bedroom, and it's probably the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. Not only does it seriously appeal to my overly romantic sensibilities and love of all things retro (wow I'm so cool wow validate my hashtag coolness), but I find it an extremely useful tool when it comes to throwing out some words on a sheet of paper.

Yeah, obviously, because it's a typewriter? Like, I use it to literally write, so, yeah, it's a useful tool? U ok hun?

I think I mean 'tool' in a more metaphorically productive sense, rather than literal.

I love my typewriter for many different things. It's bright orange, for starters. Win. (Wow, it's like my friends know me or something!)

Even more importantly, I love my typewriter because there are absolutely no distractions. There are no email notifications; there's no Twitter; there's nothing to "just quickly check", only to find yourself 45 minutes into a true crime podcast (today's came courtesy of the Moors Murderers and, although extremely fascinating yet quite disturbing, it was not helping me write about points of interest in Madrid.)

Getting distracted is one of the biggest problems I have when I write. When I find my "flow," it's impossible to pull me away from my work; I've been known to start work at 10am and finish at 2am (with a pause at some point to go outside and actually face other humans). Until I get into it, though, you'll find me cleaning or practicing unicycling (sidenote: it's not going well) or doing something completely irrelevant and time-consuming just because it's super easy to turn my attention elsewhere when the words aren't jumping out.

To be fair, I can be extremely disciplined. I'm good at self-restraint when I want to be. However, the Procrastination Princess tiara is one I wear pretty well at the best of times.

And that's why my typewriter is so useful. It's archaic (ok, no, it's from the 70s) but it means I can't get distracted. It's just me and some keys and a sheet of paper. It's just me and some words. And that's what I love most about it.

Ok, it's pretty annoying not having a backspace or an undo button when you make a mistake and it really makes you realise that the 'copy and paste' function is pretty much a lifesaver. But not being able to edit the text like you would on a laptop makes me elaborate my thoughts. No interruptions; just me, typing thoughtfully.

You have to be pretty focused; you can't mess things up. A pathetic tap on the key will leave faded ink that's pretty much impossible to read. If you get overexcited and type too quickly, then quickly want to retract a statement or phrase...oops, too late. Making your mark on the sheet in front of you takes power. You really have to pause and think: is this what I want to say? Is this the tone I want to convey? Do I really want to use that word?

It's like you're strategizing. The tactile ways of the typewriter forces you to think. Sure, you could skip back and cross out faults (I can almost smell the secondary school fascination with Tipex right here from my kitchen!) but they're always going to be on the page. Every strike of the keys is a strike that's filled with truth.

If there's something I've learned from typewriting, it's that I care too much about getting it right. I'd never noticed it before; when you're working from a laptop or a tablet or whatever, you don't realise how much you linger over a completed sentence before you complete erase it and rephrase or rewrite it. You don't realise how much the backspace is your best friend.

But not having the ability to spell-check or auto-save or whatever on my typewriter is kind of what is so beautiful about it. The simple permanence of the words I put down on the page at the risk of all the hassle of not liking or wanting to change them is what writing is all about - at least, to me. It's what we are thinking right then and there, in that particular moment. And marking it down in the permanency of ink gives it a kind of legacy.

This is why I often think that what I write on my typewriter is better than what I write on my laptop (awks bcos lol that's my job but oh well!). I think it's because I take my time with my typewriter. I linger over the keys a lot longer. There is rarely a spelling mistake or a grammatical error or whatever, because I spend minutes pondering over each and every sentence. Compare that to my blog, for example, or early drafts of my articles, and it's actually laughable. You can practically hear the chimes of the clock painstakingly ticking through the ink on the page, sensing the amount of time it took me to just complete that one sentence. 

But, yeah, she's a pretty charming machine. I love her dearly - even if the Q and T keys stick from time to time. 

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The Skinny on Weight Loss Kulture

Saturday 9 November 2019

The Skinny on Weight Loss Kulture

Kardashian Kulture - 'tea,' for want of a better word.

Ok, that was hardly original but, hey, maybe I caught your attention.

Before I begin shitting* on this detox-tea-laxative-Kulture (*yep, pun intended), I want to make a quick disclaimer. By no means do I want to offend anyone using or promoting these products. I'm not here to shame or 'cancel' any influencers I namedrop in this essay. I'm not targeting anyone; I'm not a bully or anything like that.

I'm just being honest because - let's be real - it's about time someone was.

This past Wednesday, Kim Kardashian-West revealed to The New York Times, alongside her mother, that she’s pretty chill when it comes to her acceptance of paid ads because the money goes to her prison reform work.

“If I have a paid post that comes in and I think, ‘ok, well this can fund x amount of people that are behind bars, that can help free them with simple legal fees that they just can’t afford, then that would be worth it to me, even if the post might be a little bit off-brand for me,’” she said. “I really weigh out different things now than I used to.”

Weigh out? Hilarious. Couldn’t have punned it better myself, Ms Kardashian-West. I’ll give you that.

But, on a more serious note, what is this stuff? Seriously? What is this?

The mountain of data we sit on indicates that the pseudoscience of celebrity, specifically the Kardashian, K(c)ulture of weight loss, is built on nothing but laxative lies. 

Claims of needing to "beat the bloat" and to hit a "goal weight by 40" with the help of products like Detox Shakes and Flat Tummy Teas lead to approximately 23,000 A & E visits every year in the USA. The statistics provided by the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention indicates that half of these visits are made by young girls, aged between 5 and 19, who have taken some kind of weight loss or energy supplement. 

Thank u Flickr for the photo, I appreciate u xo

Now, I'm not saying Kim Kardashian, her sisters, or other celebrity influencers are straight up liars - yet, anyway. They could easily be scapegoats. And I'm not here to shit* (DJ KHALED...anotha pun) on them; they are their own people; they have their own social media pages and can make whatever decisions they want. Should they choose to promote the pseudosciences of a weight loss myth, that's cool with me. Well, it's not really, but that's a different blog post. 

What I'm wanting to get at today is the link KKW makes between detox products and prison reform. 

Claiming that spon-con funds her prison reform campaigns? Oh my god. Wow. 

Ms. Kardashian-West, I want to like you. I really do. At times, I think you're business-savvy and, with the help of your intelligent, albeit manipulative, mother, you've marketed on what was something of a public disaster and have since built an empire. I like to think that you and your family, as entertaining as you are to follow on social media, are hard-working. When I heard about your desire to train as a lawyer and make some headway into the world of prison reform, I applauded you. I thought "with her massive platform...why not?"

But, in the space of thirty seconds, you ruined it all. 

Your claim that sponsored posts helped fund your prison reform angle liquified what could have been a hugely respected passion project into laxative shite. The dollar bills you make from each post claiming that "you love this tea" and "it helps beat the bloat" may as well be used to wipe your arse because, from my perspective, that's all it's good for. 

No law degree can erase or change the fact that influencers such as Kim Kardashian-West, her younger sibling Kylie Jenner, Cardi B, and so many others, are responsible for contributing to a generation of young people suffering with eating disorders. 

And I'm just so confused as to why KKW had to link her social media content to prison reformation? How on earth can a woman who has so much money need to post sponsored content to fund what could be, for instance, a massively successful charity campaign? Is it simply just greed? Am I missing something here?

As your many followers rest on their knees, heads dipped into the toilet bowl, vomiting up what little food they ate today, you sit in your Beverley Hills mansion with walls that are tainted green – not with the millions of dollar bills you earned from just one Flat Tummy Shake post, but with the green-tea-infused-diarreah of thousands of people whose arseholes are burning with shame, secrecy and a desire to be just like you. But...not really like you, right? "Off-brand", remember?

You're advocating for prison reform, and that's something I whole-heartedly respect. But you may as well rewrite the law in a pen that uses the vomit of your followers instead of ink because, babe, you're not really making a difference. Not from what I can see, anyways. You're simply feeding* (*pun, yep – you guessed it – intended) into the society you supposedly want to change, make better, make fairer.

Tell me how it is fair that you manipulate vulnerable young people. Tell me how you taking their money, admitting its not always legit, and using it to fund your prison reform project is fair. Please. No, genuinely - I would love it if you could explain it to me because, from over here, I'm struggling to see any correlation between your Instagram feed and suffering prisoners.

As Jameela Jamil (a T4 and Twitter LEGEND!) so incredibly and articulately put, these Instagram influencers simply feed into the whole game. Jamil calls them "agents of the patriarchy" and I completely agree. The only difference is that it's just moved from whispers in the corridor of a long-time establishment right into the digital age, confronting us 24/7. Maternity leave queries and diet pills - all different branches of the same tree. 

And it no longer makes me angry. It used to. I used to rage at these kinds of posts because of the way it used to trigger people I know (and me sometimes) into a body dysmorphic downward spiral. And I was so embarrassed at first, because I thought I was so much stronger and capable than all that. I didn’t think I could be so malleable and vulnerable at the hands of a fucking picture, of all things. But, it's different now; I no longer am ashamed of the way I, amongst thousands, could have easily fell victim. I cringe, yeah, sure. But not at myself.

I feel sad for you promoters and influencers, instead. Seeing those kinds of posts make me sad; like, I'm sat writing this and my eyes are stinging and my chest is tight and all I want to do is give you a big hug because, clearly, you're struggling with all of this too.

That's what I tell myself, anyway. I have to. You must be finding all of this so painful to do. I don't want to believe that another human being - especially a parent - can be as cold and as calculating as to promote products that slowly kill the bowels and brains of young people. All for another couple of Ks.

Greed? Maybe. Gross? Definitely. Keep your million-dollar-paycheque, influencers. I’m happy it’s worth it. Just know that your new car doesn't run on petrol or diesel or electric charge; it's runs on the churning vomit of your followers. Each time you rev your engine and drive just that bit faster down Rodeo Drive or by Bondi Beach or wherever you've just bought your new apartment with marble countertops to display your Detox Shake, let the sound of it echo in your brain. If you listen hard enough, you might be able to hear the rumbling, rotting stomachs of all those people who have bought into your cold, calculating greed.

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The Fear and Flickering Flames

Wednesday 6 November 2019

The Fear and Flickering Flames

"The Fear and Flickering Flames?" Probably just as pretentious as it sounds - you've been warned. 

Sometimes I just sit and think about how amazing our potential is as human beings. Global warming, murderous and narcissistic flaws aside, humans can be (and often are) fucking incredible. Liver regeneration, for one. The ability to blush – which is, according to Darwin, “the most human of all expressions.” And our upright posture and speech is pretty sick too.

On a deeper level (because where else would I go, let’s be honest?), humans are exceptional in the sense that we are able to tap into near-supernatural willpower when we know what we really want. 

When we are clear on matters, it’s like a flame flickers in our bellies, burning every obstacle or inconvenience in our midst, until we get to where we want to go. I mean, you always hear tons of stories about superhuman feats in those chatty weeklies about dog-mothers ripping off car doors to save their pets and people scaling buildings to reach kids who have somehow managed to climb out of a window and get themselves stuck. Despite everything going against them, the most truly determined of humans overcome whatever circumstances face them and charge ahead.

Of course, there’s always ‘The Fear’ argument; the idea that these people are more scared than superhuman isn’t exactly shocking. I mean, fear makes us do the craziest yet coolest of things. However, I don’t really want to focus on this part of human willpower today.

Willpower, to me, is the most important trait that we carry as humans. I think it encompasses a whole ton of stuff – the ability to comprehend and understand, the ability to learn, the ability to communicate. There is nothing more important to willpower, at least to me. 

There is something so incredibly sacred about knowing what you want. And, sometimes, there is nothing more difficult to figure out. Sometimes it feels like until you know what it is that you want, it’s almost impossible to start building an existence surrounding it. Kind of like a human cell without a nucleus, you know; the main bit with all the good stuff in it.

Maybe I’m coming off as too ambitious or up my own arse when I say that. It’s just that, sometimes, ordinariness feels a bit mundane and empty to me when there’s no real clear payoff or goal to reach. I like setting my sights on something; it means I can light that fire in my belly and go for it. When I don’t have that, I feel colder, emptier and a whole lot less human. 

V. dramatic stuff, I know. Cue the violins.

Knowing what you want, it seems to me, is half the battle. Yet, there seems to be no real method on figuring out what it is that we actually want. There’s no coaching, (well, I’m not forking out however-many-grand for life coaching but if someone wants to pay for it, we can talk!), there’s no class or course we can take. No one except ourselves, individually, can sit down and dissect what it is we really urge to make happen. Asking ourselves what we crave, what we seek to find, what we need, are all massive questions that we have to root around to find in our subconscious, buried deep somewhere. 

And even then, when we get through to them, all we ever can come up with are flaky pieces of ‘this-and-that’ which sound nice, which sound alright. But, do they really ignite us in that hungry way we need to burn?

Maybe that’s where The Fear comes from actually. LOL, can you tell this is a stream of consciousness or what? I’m all over the place!

But, no, seriously, maybe The Fear is important. If you don’t know where to begin, burn the end of the candle you’re most fearful of. If you start with what you’re scared of, then nothing else can possibly be quite as bad. We might not know what it is we totally desire, but we know what it is that we’re scared of. 

Take what we’re scared of and twist it. What’s its opposite? What is the worst-case-scenario for you? What is the best thing that could happen in that situation?

Is it as simple as that? Your truest of needs and wants are hidden beneath layers of fear and confusion? Your deepest of desires are, in fact, wearing a mask of worry? 

An absolute mood provided by flickr.com

So, if that’s the case, the truth of the matter is that everyone knows exactly what they want; they’re just too scared to want it. The things we want naturally exist within us as a part of our character. It’s just that The Fear is just as deeply rooted within us. It masks all those things we desire, twisting them into the opposite because the things we want are often so innocently malleable. We care so deeply; we want so badly. It’s risky to lean into whatever those wants and cares are, so we shield ourselves, telling ourselves it’s impossible when it’s really this stupid defence mechanism deeply rooted in The Fear. The Fear robs us of a chance to pursue our truest of desires because we’re in denial about what they really are.

The Fear is the dimmer on our flickering flame of willpower. It puts out the flame. It might be time to try and change that, if we can.

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Balance: Sounds Nice. Who is she?

Monday 4 November 2019

Balance: Sounds Nice. Who is she?

I recently took a lovely friend of mine round Spitalfields market on a Sunday morning. Typical-touristy-shite; it was lovely. Typical brunch; typical meandering; typical laughing about what had happened the night before (@BenHolt I still can’t remember that thing we found so funny; I just know it was!) and it was all fine and dandy, till I decided to go and have my tarot cards read.

I’ve had my tarot cards read before; I’m fascinated by astrology. I love the whole “reverence-for-the-night-sky-reading-the-stars” kind of thing. As sceptical as I may be, it’s all pretty fun and I find it a nice bridge between hard facts and nebulous truth. 

This isn’t a pros and cons list of all things astrology. It’s more what the guy said that really got me thinking. 

I’ve had my cards read once before, by a lady who knew my star sign the second I walked into the room because apparently “my aura is just so air!” (to be stated in a thick, Bostonian accent.) She also recited events from my past extremely accurately without any word from me and has since predicted a future that I’m slightly terrified of but extremely excited for. This guy at Spitalfields was different. He focused less on my past and future cards and seemed to zone in on my present.

“Wow, you really need to start balancing stuff out” was the first sentence that came out of his mouth.

Lol. Balance. Who is she?

I don’t know about you, but maintaining balance isn’t exactly a key skill of mine. Whether it is something to do with the Gemini in me (Boston-tarot-lady seems to think so!) or a trait learned from my father (cheers, John), I’m not exactly the coolest of the cool when it comes to organising my life. 

At the best of times, I go about my day like I’m a stress ball that has been flung across the room, hurtling at about a million miles an hour in a way that can only be described as a fireball of flying chaos. 

And it’s annoying because I know what I should do to find some order in my life. I’ve been told it all before. “You need to meditate, Kerry” is normally the first thing that comes out. “You need to take up yoga or something.” “You need to just stop and breathe.”

If meditative practice and stuff like that works for you…great. Keep doing what you’re doing; in for two and out for four and all that. I wish it worked for me. 

I always say that I relax more when I am busy. I don’t know if it’s an escapism thing or what, but having my mind or hands occupied (preferably simultaneously) makes me feel that bit more at peace. I’m all about losing myself in a task at hand and focusing all my energy into it. The second I force myself to sit and reflect on myself, or practice my breathing, or whatever form of meditation it is I’m trying that time, I immediately get this burning sensation in my head. I become very aware of myself, the stuff I have to get done, the fact I’m sat wasting time not doing the stuff I have to get done…all the problems and tasks push their way into my head and instead of breathing in for two and out for four, I find myself inhaling a to-do list and exhaling a painful, albeit internal, squeal.

Meditation is supposed to allow you to become fully in tune with yourself and your surroundings but, for me, it means I become too in tune. I become very aware that I’m wasting time sitting and breathing because I actually have a list of things to do.

I haven’t found peace in meditation, but I know the little things which relax me and pull me back to earth if I’m off on a tangent. For instance, I like the sound and smell of the rain; it really calms me down. I like reading too. 

I somehow need to incorporate the practice of mindfulness and stuff into my everyday life. I need to find a sense of balance, like Spitalfields-Tarot-Man suggested, but I don’t think of it as the final goal. I think balance is a process that develops over time.  Being balanced does not mean being calm, relaxed, and content all of the time; at least, that’s what I think. Balance often occurs only for a fleeting moment – when I’m walking in the rain, for instance. It can reappear over and over again.

I don’t think it’s about maintaining balance, gripping onto it so tightly that your fingers bleed and your brain hurts. That’s only going to induce stress further. Rather than trying to claw into balance, I think I need to remind myself that balance is something to be worked on – it’s the whole idea of endgame versus process. Think about the long-term with the short-term. Prioritising and all that.

Maybe I need to start making lists or something. Be that person. Hmm. Might give it a go. 

Spitalfields-Tarot-Man might not be as psychically-inclined as that scarily accurate Bostonian woman. Maybe he just didn't care about giving me the lowdown on what the cards have in store for me. However, he really ignited a spark for thought that day. I really need to work on creating a sense of balance in my life. It's just gonna take a bit of practice. 

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Don't Shoot The Messenger!

Saturday 2 November 2019

Don't Shoot The Messenger!

Asking for a friend: is there an antidote for terrible texting? Maybe a nice gemstone or crystal to rub on your fingers in the cool way you see tarot readers and astrology enthusiasts do? OK, fine, I'm asking for myself.


I operate on either end of the spectrum when it comes to texting: effusive paragraphs almost effective immediately or one-word answers within a two-week timeframe. In real life, however, I like to think that I am a generally articulate human who is active in whatever conversation she engages in.


There are lots of people out there who respond to texts in a timely manner. Unfortunately, I'm just not one of them. In fact, as I live and breathe, I currently have six unread messages clogging up my inbox.

Whoops; now make that seven.


Sorry, Lily, I'll reply later.


But it's got me thinking: why am I such a bad texter? It's not like I am deliberately ignoring anybody. I'm not going out of my way to be rude or mean or whatever. Like, I like to think I'm a pretty good human being - I work hard, I smile and thank bus drivers and other TFL staff, I hold the door open for old ladies who scowl back at me in confusion (this is London, after all!). Yet, somehow, in the virtual world of instant gratification of immediate social interaction, I sometimes come across as don’t-care-ish, forgetful or, worst of all (at least to me!) lazy.


I guess the real question I’m asking is: can you still be a good person if you’re a shit texter? And the answer is “yes” – I mean, I’m living proof! LOL I’m kidding. But let's be real; the way a person messages isn’t always indicative of the entire scope of their personality. Mum, I’m not that scatty, I swear! It’s just that, whilst some people are always on top of their texting game, others of us can't quite seem to get our digital communication together.



Maybe it’s because all of our personal networks consist of a rainbow of different personalities. Just like you know what makes different friends tick, you cater to that complexity on your digital channels. I guess the more deeply you know someone, the less likely you are to worry about The Protocols You Must Obey When Communicating Via Phone Messaging. Texting responsivity can be based in your knowledge of who it is you’re actually replying to. In short, if I know you can wait, you might just have to xoxo.


I also think that it’s partially down to the fact that, whilst I may always have my phone on my person, I’m not always on it. I really enjoy disconnecting from my network for a bit of time every day. It lets me just focus on myself for a bit; I think that’s really important. And, despite the fact that it's supposed to be easy, it can sometimes feel like texting takes up too much of your time. Unless I’m travelling and have the time to compose a message, or am sat with nothing to do, you expect me to have a full conversation with someone who isn’t sat next to me? You want me to type out an entire sentence? Who has the time for that? (As someone who writes stuff for a living, this is slightly concerning!)


Nevertheless, I completely understand that some people value a speedy response; I guess it all depends on the message at hand. It would break my heart if someone misconstrued my slow (ok, slooowww) response time as indifference, applying a sort of “Kerry doesn’t really care” logic to our friendship. That alone is worth thinking about my texting protocol.


In short, I guess I’m just trying to say I love all my friends and value them (and their text messages) equally. And I promise I will get back to you. If not in this lifetime, then definitely the next!

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Another Year of Pumpkin Portals...

Another Year of Pumpkin Portals...

I think one of the most frustrating things for me around this time of year is trying to carve a pumpkin. T'is in the Halloween spirit and all. However, I'll be the first to admit that I am in no way, shape, or form, an artist.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a pretty creative person. When it comes to anything artsy or whatever, I know what I want to set out to achieve. I can see it in my head and then *bam* that's the way it has to be. It has to look this way. 

But...as luck would have it...it never pans out.

Exhibit A:

The perfectionist in me means that all these grand, wondrous design schemes have to work just so, but when it comes down to it, these pumpkin carvings barely turn out half-decent. Actually, less than that. They're barely half half-decent. They, more often than not, end up a split pile of mush. 

In true Kerry-style, this Halloween season, my pumpkins have been far more trick than treat. My Instagram is always filled with photos of intricately designed orange spheres, featuring comically familiar faces or funny little messages. I always start off thinking that I could do this, or I could recreate that - but I am never satisfied with the end result of my hilariously disastrous pumpkins.

This year, I took the approach of "the smaller the pumpkin, the smaller the problem." The result? Not great. It involved string, some duct tape, and a final "ta-da" at the end of it all - talk about taking surgery and 'make it spewky szn!' I guess the lesson I took from this was that there's only so much pumpkin you can carve. It sounds obvious now but, in the heat of the moment, it's easy just to think you can carve just a bit more.

No - I'm not going into more detail than that. I'm not ready to embarrass myself like that on the internet, just yet. Just rest assured that I make any amateur look like a professional.

But, whilst ornately decorated and remarkably designed pumpkins are great to admire, can they bring the laughs that jack o' lantern fails do? I like to think my first attempt was a piece of modern art, my second was a deliberate gaping entrance into another world (All Hail The Pumpkin Portal) and my third...no, I really can't lie, my third was just a pile of shite.

But now that spewky szn is away with, mercury retrograde is in full swing, and I can barely move across my flat without hearing my neighbour blasting Christmas Carols (we're festive early up in Alderney!), I think it's time to leave my shocking carving skills where they belong: in East London's last week of October's recycling collection point.

Yep, maybe I'll just stick to cooking, not carving, pumpkins. Though I'm not much better at that, either!

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