Wednesday, 31 July 2013

People, control your children, please.

Ok, so if you've ever worked as a waiter/server of some kind you have had to deal with someones bratty child at some point. I'm not talking about the really young toddlers and below. They don't know any better, they're just learning, which is fair enough. I'm talking about the five and up. Is it just me, or does it seem that these monsters can get away with anything? I'm sorry, but when I was that young my Mum would have been mortified if I acted like these kids do in a restaurant or public place of any kind. My memories of going out for dinner was that it was a treat and if you didn't behave, then you weren't taken out again. I've talked to friends and they have similar memories. We didn't throw food around, make an excessive mess on purpose, run around the place, scream and make a general nuisance of ourselves. If we had done any of these things we would have been taken home. It wouldn't matter at what stage you were at in the dinner, you would be taken home. It was a case of if you can't behave, you don't get to go out to these places.

Personally I don't mind children misbehaving as long as their parents are actively trying to stop it or at least keeping some sort of control over them. It's the parents/grandparents, who don't see anything wrong with their kids behavior, or simply don't care that really bug me. I've been working as a waitress in different places over the past two years, I think I've seen a good portion of brats acting up over this time. Fussy eater? That's fine. Overtired from travelling? I can deal with that. Overexcited? Great! Spilt your drink by accident? Adults do that too! Any good waiter/waitress in any type of restaurant, posh or gastro pub, can cope with this, and more, as long as the parents are doing their job. It is not appropriate for your child to be running around, free to do whatever they want in my place of work. Nobody would ever take their child to an office and let them do any of the stuff they get away with in a restaurant! 

The milder cases of brats being let loose can be laughed over, but sometimes it can be just plain old dangerous. A normal well adjusted child will take any toys around to the table their parents are sitting at and play beside or around it. I remember one incident where I had children playing in the area where servers come and go to the kitchen. With heavy plates. Containing scalding hot food. That will burn them and crush their annoying little heads. Eventually their parents had to be asked to move them after we had said to the kids, several times to take the toys to their table, it wasn't safe to play where they were and my manager nearly tripped over them while carrying three sizzler plates. 
Sticky fingers all over tables can be irritating but are easily cleaned up, most parents will clean up after their children with napkins provided or even wet wipes. Some will watch their kids make a dogs dinner out their meal, make a mess of the table and the floor underneath and not bat an eyelid. That's just rude. You wouldn't let your child do that at their own home or anyone else's, why should they get away with it in a restaurant?
Children that are too young to sit on a chair are normally in a high chair, you wouldn't think there would be any way of misbehaving with a chair... You would think that any self respecting parent would stop their young, fragile child from jumping up and down on the chair. I once had someone sit through their little boys tantrum as he used a chair as a trampoline, when he eventually toppled the chair over they waited for us to pick the chair up and said, 'Oh, that chair isn't very stable, is it?' 'Well, it's not really designed to be a trampoline, I'm afraid.' 
Something that I really don't understand is when people let their little darlings play with their phones or video games at the dinner table. It's just so rude and then when we are trying to serve you or them, if the attention is on the gadget then our job is doubly hard. I really hate when 'tweens', teens or young adults have their phone beside the placemat. It's in the road and every time I go to clean the table, if there is mess around the phone I get a funny look or even a grab for the phone as if I'm going to steal it. This is the most insulting thing I have happen to me on a regular basis. I have my own phone, thanks, it's in my handbag. Where yours should be.
Being in a new environment is exciting and sometimes kids just want to run around and have fun. It doesn't mean you should let them though. I once had two boys who were just running around the place in a great big loop. It would have been ok, except that once we had more customers in it was annoying them as well as the staff trying to do their job. Another time I had a little girl trying to run through back corridors through to either the kitchen or the public bar. Neither place a very child friendly area. All the while her mum was to busy drinking wine and catching up with a friend to control her own child. I caught her running back and forth between both areas and was leading her back to her mum when she started to run through and, being vertically challenged, she ran into the corner of a table. I wasn't the only waitress to be happy to see them go. 

It's not all doom and gloom though. Children with parents that look after them make all the bad experiences seem worth it. Tiny tots just learning to speak saying 'ta' when you give them something, mum's that clean up after their spawn and dads who keep a tight leash on their sugar crazed demons make all the difference. With everything you have to take the good with the bad. I still really want to have signs like this where I work though. I would totally enforce this.

Monday, 17 June 2013

My occasional baldness

I have Trichotillomania. Believe me, that's a mouthful. When you say just that word, people assume it's actually some truly terrifying disease that is contagious... It's not. It's only an impulse control disorder regarding pulling out your own hair. I find that I tend to only pull when I'm stressed out, I mainly pull out my eyelashes and eye brows although the first time I remember doing it was head hair. It was sometime in either first or second year. I had grown out my fringe in previous years but there were still baby hairs that would tickle my nose or hover in and out of vision that annoyed me. Eventually I just pulled them out. They weren't important and they didn't leave a bald patch. Soon enough it just became a habit if I had a loose hair I would pull it out. I do remember noticing a small receding patch near my tiny widows peak. I didn't consciously think about hiding up that insignificant little patch, no one had noticed it. I just remember thinking, "Oh, I should probably stop that." I didn't really, I just stopped pulling in that area. Looking back I'm really glad that I can't stand having my hair in my face and always had it tied up when it was long otherwise it would have been a lot worse.

Other then loose hair, I didn't focus on my hair too much. After all it's just hair. I was too busy reading, studying and being a bit of a tomboy to be bothered with my hair. I also looked on in scorn at girls who would spend so much time on their hair just for it to get messy in the wind. What was the point? I only ever spent time on my hair if there was no chance of getting messy and in my face. More often than not I would have a bobble on me for when I got fed up of it floating around and in the way. The only people I admired for long hair were my older sisters, especially Alana as she was always brushing it and doing things with it. I remember when I was very young being allowed to play with and mess up both of their hairstyles by putting a thousand bobbels and clips in it and spending an hour or more brushing it. Somehow I never bothered to do the same with my own hair. As long as it was out of the road I was happy.

I have no idea how I coped with the horrific haircut I had from the end of 2nd year to the start of 5th year. It was a short severe bob haircut. Words won't do it justice so here is a photo.

It was not good. I loved it at the time, it suited me for my 'emo kid' phase. Looking back on it it would have been potentially acceptable if I had done something with it. Straightened it, curled it or even used hair gel. Instead I just let it sit there and look awful. Especially when I would just leave it behind my ears, like in this photo. Even looking now I'm surprised I left that bit of hair on my face alone. This is probably the most in control I ever was between that initial period of pulling out my hair and then when fifth year started it came back with a vengeance.

I have always rested my head in my hands when reading or working at a desk and I have always had my fingers on my forehead with my pinkie on my eyebrow. I started off simply rubbing the hairs. However as fifth year progressed and I became more and more stressed I started to do more. I would grip the hair between my thumb and forefinger and pull at it. Not pull it out, just pull it taut and let go. I would worry at my hair for hours like this while reading or working not fully paying attention to what I was doing until one day I must have pulled too tight and the rest is history. I never had a proper pulling fit until I was, at least, at the end of my sixth year. This time people noticed the bald spots as it was my eyebrow hair I was pulling out. Worse was to come though as I got into the habit of pulling out my eyelashes. 

For the duration of this time I had no idea that there was anyone else who pulled out their hair, much less that there was a name for it. Eventually I stumbled onto the videos of a girl on Youtube who has severe trichotillomania. She has had to shave her hair off repeatedly in an attempt to control her urges. After seeing her video I managed to control mine long enough to grow back almost all of my hair but then a lot happened all at once and I pulled almost every eyebrow hair out on my left and nearly three quarters of the right along with decimating my eyelashes.

The worse thing was that it wasn't just my family noticing anymore, it was so bad that my co-workers noticed. One of them was a trained beautician and I got talked into letting her tint my eyebrows and when it came to it, there weren't even baby hairs left for her to dye. That was also the first time she saw the state I'd left my eyelashes in and she was shocked. Another beautician came in and just couldn't grasp that I had pulled all the hair out. She seemed distraught that there was nothing they could do for my poor non-existent eyelashes when I was just delighted to have something to pass off for eyebrows. At least it was something that made me look normal again and people don't tend to notice the eyelashes as much anyway.

It was pretty bad but I could hide most of it for a glance by filling in my eyebrows and using eyeliner on my upper water line. That took some practice though, the first month or so I was using a light brown/ginger on my eyebrows and it just looked so bad. I also had to follow where my eyebrows used to be whereas most people just fill in between the hair, I had to pretend I had hair. This would sometimes result in some rather odd looking eyebrows. I don't know how it took me so long to notice that was the wrong colour and the wrong shape. It did result in some funny photos to look back on though. 

I had a similar hair pulling fit recently but my eyelashes seemed to suffer the most. This was just after I had moved in with my boyfriend and after being jobless for over 3 months I just got so stressed that I pulled all of my eyelashes out. My top lids were completely bald and more than half of my bottom lids. I had to put vaseline on my eyelids to stop them watering whenever I went outside as they had nothing to protect them from the wind and the dirt. It was fairly grim in the looks department as well and I started to get hair envy. I was envious of girls who could use eyelash curlers or mascara and just, in general, people with eyelashes. I started pulling on the hair to the left of my forehead but thankfully I snapped out of it when I started to notice all the bits of hair I'd ripped out accumulating around me.

The damage was already done for my eyes though. I inadvertently discovered that Vaseline helped my lashes grow back, it also made the new growth too slippy to pull out. Something I also found helps is that I am completely open about it. If people notice, I'm glad that I know what it is so I can tell them. It also means I'm not alone and if people hear about it they know they're not alone as well. I haven't ever been truly open on Facebook or Twitter about it but I've always been open about it on Instagram. It's because of that I have seen other girls who have it as bad as and worse than me and it seems to actually be fairly common. It's that some people are able to do it in moderation and others just hide it really well. However something that strikes me is that is these people don't open about it they soon develop other problems, such as depression, which is understandable because they feel like they don't measure up to societies standard of beauty, they don't get real sympathy as it's 'self-inflicted' and they then beat themselves up when they can't stop from pulling out there own hair. It's just a horrible thing to go through.

Thankfully, I'm really lucky as my family and friends have always been there to look out for me and support me. Even if it's really annoying when they tell me off for playing with my eyebrows. A common thing that people ask, when I tell them the first time, is have I told a doctor and yes, I have. There just isn't a lot of help out there for this problem. One time I went as I had no eyelashes left and I got eye drops and some websites to look at. I'm currently recovering from my last really bad pulling phase and the most difficult thing is to ignore the itchy feeling as well as the lopsided feeling on my eyes as the hair slowly grows back. Resisting the urge to pull out all that lovely new hair is almost unbearable but so worth it when I see how far I've come along. Here's hoping I keep it up.

Thursday, 23 May 2013

The problem with being an Artist

Let's get down to business. I'm an artist. Yes, I have no future ahead of me, you can't make money out of art and I'm most likely to end up completely poor and in poverty, if not living on the streets. I should have gone to University for a Law Degree, Science Degree or, in general, something that I don't love or care about simply to make money. I'm not even in University for an Art Degree yet. I'm a complete and utter failure at life. I also dropped out of College and moved in, to live in sin, with my boyfriend in Glasgow. He's a chef. I'm not taking any courses of any kind, I simply have an easel and some art supplies and I work by myself, when I don't have artists block. I will end up depressed, addicted to drugs, addicted to alcohol and most likely try to kill myself at several points during my life time. I may even slice off a body part. I also work as a waitress, when I can, so I am as low as you can get...

See above? That's what some people think when I say that I'm an artist, I'm applying to the Glasgow School of Art and yes, I would like to just make Art for a living. I'm not in education, I'm working by myself and I live with my boyfriend, who is University drop out and works as a Chef. I can see it on their faces that they judge me. Even people my age can be very derisive, like it's something dirty. That I am wasting my life because I'm not in higher education and still aspire to be an independent artist. That's ok, I don't actually care because everyone around me, that matters, supports me and have every expectation that I will one day succeed.

Even if I don't they'll still be there for me and think I'm awesome. I have recently been thinking on how I would actually like to be a teacher even if I do manage to become an independent artist. So lets have a look at the story so far...

It most likely started when I was very young, as my eldest sister, Lisa, was great at drawing Disney characters and they were all over my bedroom walls as a child. I remember wanting to be as good as her and since then it became one of my favourite things, to just sit and draw to my hearts content... or until I would be distracted. Then throughout Primary School I was best friends with Holly, whose Mum was an Artist. I remember a sculpture of a head living on the stairs in their house and how she would come into the school to help with art projects. At this point I dreamed of being a vet, as did Holly and our other best friend Gillian. Towards the end of Primary School and the start of Secondary, my Uncle Ken and Aunt Lydia moved up from the borders of Scotland to Drumnadrochit in the Highlands. For the first time since I was a baby, or 5 years old, I met them properly and they were both mad as hatters. My Uncle Ken was a self taught 'fashion' designer and had just retired from running his company, Aero Leather. It was the infrequent visits to their home were I remember my Mum and Aunt discussing my Art, especially during my fourth year art as I had the teacher from hell. I also hero worshipped my Uncle Ken, he is just one of the coolest people you could ever meet. What I truly love is how successful he is yet he hasn't changed. He's not aloof, he's not on a pedestal, he's just a cool guy who makes cool clothes and has amazing stories.

Uncle Ken, John Taylor and Aunt Lydia

In 1st year and second year, art just remained a favourite hobby really, being an artist isn't something that is encouraged. However in 3rd year I started to think that maybe I had something I should check out and that was down to my amazing teacher, Michael Rush. He was a no nonsense, grouchy old man who wore a black leather coat and would ramble on from the lesson plan to random facts or interesting articles he's read recently. He was a proper art teacher, eccentric and passionate about what he was teaching. He reminded me of my Uncle Ken, but a really angry version... Still he knew his stuff and always knew what to say to keep me working on my art. He's the reason my parents bought me my first table easel and acrylic paint set.

Unfortunately my class got given to a different teacher, who then became known to me as, 'The Demon Lady'. When you think of an art teacher they are odd, eccentric, dress funny, have a very energetic flow when they speak and in general don't act like your stereotypical maths teacher. This woman was everything you expect an art teacher to be the opposite of. The thing that truly made her queer, in the art teacher sense, is that you never saw her draw, or correct a piece of your work. She'd just hover over you, tell you that you had to change this. If you didn't she'd then distract you for half an hour asking why you hadn't done it and why you were making her life hell. She really didn't like me as I was strong minded. If I didn't see a reason to do what she said, I'd ask her to explain it and would often tell her why I preferred it my way. This had never been an issue with any of my previous teachers but it really put her out. She also tried to dumb down any essays I'd submit. I was taking Credit English at the time along with 3 sciences, I enjoyed using a large vocabulary, especially when I was writing about art, but she would always try to imply I was just copying and pasting or using words that I didn't understand. If she could make life difficult or a simple task complicated she would. All the other classes had the opportunity to practise painting before their prelim, our class got a five minute colour wheel explanation the day before. After my final exam the head of department, Mr. Douglas, asked if I would be coming back next year to take Higher and was surprised when I said no. I never expected to ever go back, so when he asked me why, I told him exactly what I thought of 'The Demon Lady' and her 'teaching skills'. To this day she makes me angry because she was such a bad teacher and I had such a bad experience that I refused to take art or even draw for my own pleasure for a year after.

That year without Art was awful, I had just gone through my first break up which was fairly brutal, I had taken five demanding higher courses and it was just too much all at once, especially without having art as my outlet. By the end of it I was a different person. I'm sure I scared a lot of people but I'm really glad that they were there for me. Due to all of this, I pretty much got thrown out of any science based career plan, I had failed Chemistry, Maths and only just scraped Biology. I was supposed to be going into 6th year with my future already set ahead of me but instead I had to change everything and that's when I decided to go back to Art. I went to Mr. Douglas again and discussed taking Intermediate 2 level Art as long as I was not in 'Her' class. I got my wish, sort of. He put me in Higher as soon as it came round to assessing our work but I was already working at that level so I didn't affect me and it was a good time. Life started to get back on track and I even had a new relationship. After taking that year out, with it all going so wrong, it felt right to be sitting in an art class again, especially as he was such a good teacher, he left me alone if I was going on the right path and if he wanted me to see something he would demonstrate it, on a scrap piece of paper, thankfully. He got me to try new things including a project where I spent most of my time playing on the computer and painting a still life based on idiosyncrasies I associate with my mum. This nearly turned me into a hermit and I skipped many classes to get that finished. It was worth it though, to have a finished piece that you know you have put your all into. 

Mum's Religion

However, I thought I couldn't take Art seriously as I was only in Higher, it was my last year of school and, in truth, I was scared that I couldn't do it full time. I decided to go for Psychology, it seemed safe. Apparently it wasn't meant to be and it was a bad day in my Advanced Higher English exam that took that away from me by one mark. So I wasn't in University, everyone I knew would be in a months time, I began to discuss staying on in school for a 7th year, to do Advanced Higher Art, with my then boyfriend, who was just going into 6th year, and I got dumped not long after. It was the last straw and I became sick for a while, not eating properly, not sleeping and it affected my work as a waitress/barmaid. This followed me into the beginning of 7th year. I felt like I was a complete failure at life.

It even infected my work, the first few self portraits are really harsh representations of how I felt about myself at the time, I just stayed in the art department, I didn't even leave for lunch. It was especially tough as I felt like I had no one to talk to. Everyone had left and I had to try and make new friends, which was difficult after seeing the same people every day, for seven years, in the same place. Everyone had moved on in life and I had been left behind.

Luckily, I had two amazing girls taking Advanced Higher Art, Keara Blackhall and Amber King. I also had Douglas again, which was amazing not just because we both knew how the other worked, but also because he knew as soon as I walked in that I wasn't well. He really went above and beyond to look after me, including listening to me moan about everything that had happened, kicking me out at lunch and, as an extra precaution, he would buy small bars of chocolate that I was to eat by the end of the day. What really helped though was getting all those horrible nasty thoughts toward myself out of my system and stuck on paper instead of me.

Various Self  Portraits

Self Portrait in the Snug

Life went on, I felt better and my work improved immensely, although I could never quite get that tired look out of my self portraits. I had a great time in Advanced Higher, it was an amazing year, mainly because I could just focus on Art. I didn't have to go anywhere, didn't have to see anyone unless they were in the department and if I didn't want to be distracted I just put my iPod in...  that didn't stop me distracting other classes though with my awful singing...I'm sorry. Amber was a crazy little creative whirlwind and we bounced off each other really well, sometimes if I was stuck or had a block I'd just sit and watch her create a massive page of work to get motivated again. Keara, when she wasn't AWOL, also was great with her natural talent for photography and ability to, at least, throw something together at the last moment if she had to. Which was often, but equally inspiring in that she could have just walked into the department and already half the floor was covered in her work that she had made five minutes before. These two kept me on my toes and, honestly, kept me going.

Thinking of  Lucian Freud

Pele and Barry

Iain Strachan


After a hard year of work it paid off, I had applied for the Glasgow School of Art and had an interview! I was in shock, I didn't think I'd ever get the GSA to even reply to my application. I'd only ever been to the city once before for the open day at the GSA. This time I was going by myself and staying at my best friends', Eilidh, student halls. This was an amazing time, not only because I had the interview but because I was spending time in this massive city and we had even planned to go out for a few drinks after my interview. This is also when I met my current boyfriend, Kieran, who lived in halls with Eilidh's boyfriend, who is also called Kieran... Yeah, that's not confusing, at all.

Unfortunately I didn't get into the GSA and I was oddly calm. Purely because when I got the feedback I saw how close I had gotten and became determined that I would one day get in. If I get so close with half a portfolio a full one would be sure to get me in. I continued to work hard on my Advanced Higher and achieved an A. Which is close to impossible in Art. I think always be proud of that.

Of course, I wanted to stay in some form of art course to continue working and hope to get into the GSA the next year. I ended up in Inverness College and it would prove to be one of the worst choices I could have made. It was a massive mistake. After being in school as an adult student, to come and go as I pleased, I had basically been spoilt. So to then go somewhere that expected me to stop work I was in the middle of to sit at a computer and learn about Art that I will never do, or have to reference was jarring. It didn't help that I was working until potentially late at night, to then get up at half past five in the morning to sit on an overcrowded bus, to then get on the bus and go back to work. I didn't have time to see my family, let alone going down to Glasgow to see Kieran, all for a really annoying, patronising woman to tell me about the theory of drawing ellipsis and how the colour wheel works.

I managed one term before I had enough. It got to the end of the first holiday break and I was sitting in the kitchen with my mum and sisters. I just blurted out how I didn't want to go back and everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Apart from Lisa... she had a victory dance on how she was right and I shouldn't have gone for that course. Which is true. I never should have done it, especially as I have had a massive art block ever since. 

I just don't know what to do with myself and I keep waiting for it to break, or attempt to work through it but it just doesn't seem to be working. It even affected my application for the GSA as my portfolio has not progressed since my Advanced Higher, not really. I know that it's in me, I know that I can do it but it just feels like its hiding. Which is especially bizarre as I now live in Glasgow, Art central in Scotland, with my boyfriend and I just can't get it to happen for me artistically at the moment. I have all my unfinished work on the wall to try to shame into action, I still creep on the GSA website and on the GSA itself when I get the opportunity. I even hang out in art shops but the most I get is a little flicker of creativity that dies as soon as I see my easel or drag out some materials to work with.

However, just the other day, I was floating around in an art shop in Buchanan Galleries when I found out that it has recently been bought over and the fellow offered to look at my work. There's a spark in me but I'm too scared for it to go out if I touch something art related. So to try and break this standstill I will be e-mailing this man and seeing if he wants any help at all putting the little shop back together and who knows I might even learn how to frame at the same time, while getting great experience if this goes well. After all if you don't ask, you don't get.

Friday, 17 May 2013

So... I have this MASSIVE lesbian crush on...

Lana Del Rey. Even the name makes me feel all tingly inside. I first saw her in early spring last year when her single, 'Video Games' was in the charts and I became mesmerised by this beautiful creature. She's like a nightingale with broken wings, just a singer who thrives on singing sad songs and looking stunningly sad. I bought her album Born to Die and listened to it on repeat for a solid 5 months. It was the soundtrack to my summer and for the duration of my best work in Advanced Higher Art (apart from the random rap phase in the middle). She was just perfect to paint to, a little too perfect as I started warbling along in the middle of classes... She became my main girl crush.

I mean, look at her, she is beautiful! So over the past year I have been obsessing over this woman. Albums on repeat, creeping all over the Internet for pictures and music videos and finally last night, after my lovely boyfriend using all his tips to buy tickets for my Christmas present, I saw her live. I got early birthday presents too, in the form of a program and vest top. Best of all though, I was in the same room as her and I got pretty close. Not front row or anything but close enough that when my camera decided to be an asshole I still managed to get blurry pictures of this goddess with my iPhone zoomed to the maximum. Ever so slowly the crowd crept forward, with myself dragging Kieran along, and by the end I only had to use half a zoom on my phone. I'm still kicking myself over the camera though as I would have had some stunning photos.
Now lets get onto the actual gig. Kassidy as an opening act where amazing, I would have actually been happy with them the whole night. I'm also fairly sure I saw Lana herself watching from the sidelines, which is no surprise as she is going out with Barrie James O'Neil. They had such energy on stage and I had never heard their songs before, or at least that I know of, and by the end of each I was singing along to the chorus. They also look great together, they have a wonderful finished rough look. Finished as in they look like they're were there to party and party hard but they haven't peaked and had a dram to many. They're set was short, sweet and to the point. They didn't stay too long, they played extremely well and appear to be very talented, worked the crowd well and just seemed genuinely happy to be playing in Glasgow. Needless to say I'll be checking them out later.

Then during the short break the tone was set wonderfully by a crackly track of Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring' playing as the ethereal curtain rippled with movement, lit from behind with pastel green and blue, a palm tree leaf shadow swaying and the odd human shadow was seen (I'm not 'fangirl-ing' at the memory, honest). Then as lights went out and the curtain dropped I'm not ashamed to say I screamed along with the rest of the crowd and surged forward, going on tiptoes trying to see her. Then when she gracefully floated from side stage left, in a babydoll white lace dress with immaculate make up, glossy hair in all its glory and, of course, those beautiful 'bee stung' lips, she was everything I had hoped and more, I promise I didn't scream even louder...

Opening with, 'My pussy tastes like pepsi-cola...' from 'Cola' I was in seventh heaven and although tiny in comparison to the SECC stage, she travelled along it well. It helped that she also had a 12 octave baby grand piano, a fabulous string quartet and a guitar player on stage with her. The set was that of a dilapidated 1920's living room, most likely a nod to her recent work with the Great Gatsby film, but also, in general, her vintage style. The next performance were my favourite songs 'Born to Die' and 'Blue Jeans'.Having the string quartet there really gave it that extra 'oomph.' that you miss out on in the CDs. I sang along with every word and so did most of the crowd. They adored her and she seemed happy to be here, stopping between songs to mention how she stays in Glasgow frequently, that she couldn't believe it had been a year since she'd performed in Glasgow and after going down to the lucky souls that were crushed against the railing, saying that she recognised some people and thanked them for coming. I'm not jealous. I just wish I was them. After that it was the cover of 'Blue Velvet' and 'American' in which Glasgow was given a nod as she serenaded, ' young, be dope, be a Glaswegian.' Needless to say the crowd lapped that up. 'Young and Beautiful' from the Great Gatsby soundtrack was the last before a short break in which footage from 'Ride' was shown with a voice over quote before Lana came back on with 'Ride' which then morphed into a short cover of 'Knocking on Heavens Door'. With a shy smile, she worked the crowd with 'Carmen' and 'Burning Desire' to then slowly close with 'National Anthem' which had an extended finish as she went back in the pit of fans to sign and have photos taken. One brave bloke had his iPad in there. Yes, iPad... that ungainly thing that you should never take to a gig, but fair enough, it got him noticed. Some lucky souls even got a kiss. I'm kinda glad I didn't get a kiss as I'm fairly sure I would have turned into a full on lesbian. As it is, I'm happy to have my crush, wish that I was Lana Del Rey and admire from afar.


Thursday, 16 May 2013

Testing...Testing... 1 2 3

Well, this should be interesting. I am creating this purely to start writing again. It'll just be a mix of things I want to write about, most likely to include art, 'newsy' type shenanigans, my day to day life and anything that makes me feel like I want to have my own say on the matter.