Hey squirts! Sorry for being such a pile of poop for the duration of the turbulent Zodiac.
Id like to say that Ive been incredibly busy shooting, having only 4days off since August, (wouldn't be a lie.) But then Id just be any other given idiot, I for one would like to punch in the face.
So lets just disregard for the fact im rocking a lobotomised noggin, due to the treadmill of life being currently cranked upto, uphill, interval training, level six hundred and eighty four. To the sounds of 'Hardcore
suicide anthems 2'. Including well known tracks such as...
- Hey kids!... Come and scream your way to tonsillitis upon Raphys lap, on any given train, plane or spaceship.
- And other Selena Gomez hits.
But on that note, its probably time to come clean....
Mmm... Where do I start?.. I really just don't know how to get this off my chest...
Its taken me a long time to even come to terms with what THIS actually means and the implications it will have on my life and societies perception of me.
....I have Bieber-fever! ARGHHHHHHHHH!
There I said it.
Shit what have I gone and done?
Shall I just get my coat?
I just dont know what happened.
Basically one morning I woke up and he wasnt rocking a Javier Bardem, circa de 'No country for old men' bowl cut.
All of a sudden he's quiffalicious, in sparkly sneaks, under a honey glaze sunset backdrop.... Damn!
Anyway I predict thats enough Justin talk for one day.
Can you actually believe its November this week? And that really only means one thing... Three weeks of Mai Tai's, flippers, nelly's and temples in Thailand! ... WOOP WOOP!
Well it also means I probably wont be blogging again till December, sorry about that. :/
But holibobs aside, how the hell did we find ourselves in this whole November situation once again?
I loathe November! I think we should rename the month, 'Quickest way to find out if your shoes are waterproof'.
To be fair, you do rock a great gemstone but your timing and your greyness are basically tantamount to Christmas and Christmas equals Newyear and I still haven't begun this years resolutions.
Ive still to look both ways when crossing the road, and my language is fucking worse than ever... crap!
Im also still very much in mental rehab, since this whole turning 22 business. I just don't agree with it one iota!
Of course my achievement anxieties are through the roof and the hands of the fertility clock are smacking my tush harder by the minute.
(Story of my life.)
Isnt it just funky how we spend our lives waiting for 'life' to begin.
When your young you feel its scheduled to start next year, at college, at 21 and so on. But then suddenly you're 65 and the scheduled life didn't arrive and your left thinking 'Well what exactly was all that disorganised delirium, for these last fifteen thousand days?"
I mean what precisely does it take to feel complete? Two kids, a managers badge and a volvo?
Is completion even real or just an ideal? Or am I just a paranoid android?
As much as I hate the energy consuming sentiment, would I be human without it? I consider just like in photography, once you've become complacent with your efforts, your basically telling the universe you've given in. And I immediately assume, that your locked into a job you despise, your broke and know more about soap stars than they're sisters and quite likely to be 20lbs over weight.
OK well thats all a little bit deep and perhaps a tad coarse for a Monday morning, so heres some weather-beaten beauts, by the brilliant Ray Rapkerg.
Withlove and snuggles Raphaella McNamara x