Tuesday Stats: Size Matters.

I went to Scotstoun leisure centre for swimming today.

Why?

Because now that I have to pay to go to Clydebank's Playdrome, I refuse to actually go there, the pool is disgusting and you can see skin, and dirt, and plasters floating in it. Sick dot com.

So, I took my mum's council employee card and got into scotstoun for a pound ten. A pound ten... you can't knock it.

Anyway.

It was 'lady's night,' and it was so completely weird swimming about with only women in the pool. I loved it though.

And I was swimming life in the fast lane. Oh yes.

200m FC
200m BS

500m legs only with flippers (200 FC, 100 FLY, 100 BC, 100 BS)

100m FLY

500m FC paddles and flippers

100m BC paddles and flippers
100m BS paddles

100m BS legs
200m FC

100m Swim down.

Total: 84 lengths, 2100m, 57 minutes.

The pool was interesting in depth.

The shallow end was 1.2m deep and the deep end was 1.5m deep.

30cm makes all the difference because I almost drowned myself a few times.

The pool I used in salt lake was about 1.2m deep end and shallow end, so i kept thinking that I was closer to the floor of the pool when I wasn't and I was partially drowning. It kind of sucked.

Just goes to show what 30cm in size actually means – death.

In My Lifetimes.

I've had quite a few different lives.

And every now and then I get sad and very nostalgic for one of my past lives. Or rather the potential that that past life could have if I didn't leave it behind.

Some notable past lives:

1. Age 0 - 6. Nuclear family.

2. Age 6 - 11. Non-religious.

3. Age 11 - 18. Mormon, high school.

4. Age 18 - 21. Dundee, Undergraduate, living with Lorraine, Laura and Jacqui.

5. Age 18 - 21. Glasgow, holidays and weekends. Eilidh and Dawn.

6. Age 21 - 22. Glasgow, working with Rufus, hanging with Mary and Charla.

7. Age 22 - 23. Dundee, Masters degree, living with Claire, hanging with Annie and Emma.

8. Age 22 - 23. Glasgow, Weekends, hanging with the skills mills.

9. Age 24. October to December. Hanging in Salt Lake. Meeting one group of friends that would be the most fun and amazing people to hang out with because they had the exact same values as me inside and outside religious committments.

10. Age 24 - 25. Glasgow, freelancing, with Rufus again.

11. Age 25. September to December. Hanging in Salt Lake again. Meeting different people. Hanging out with original friends. Loving it all.

12. Age 25. December. Glasgow. Freelancing with no clients.

13. Age 25. December - March. Hanging in Salt Lake again, with an entirely new agenda and new set of friends.

14. Age 25. March - present. Glasgow, freelancing, catching my breathe before I go again.




The life I want is a combination of numbers 13 and 9, and earlier this week I wanted number 2.

Anyway. Facebook is funny because it helps you keep in touch with the lives you've left behind. And every now and then a visual presentation of an event occurs that you could see yourself fitting right in to, but you weren't there, because it's not actually your life. And you're not entirely sure if it will be even if you try really hard to travel that path.

Things I wish they'd taught us to make on Blue Peter.

First off... I would like to say that when I was I kid I used to call Blue Peter Green Peter. I did this because I didn't like it. It was another 30 minute step between me and neighbours, so I would attempt to be a rebel and offend the TV programme by changing the colour in its name. Pretty awesome and offensive eh?

Ahh Blue Peter... all the things they taught us how to make. I actually never really made anything they showed me, I just never had an empty squeezy washing up liquid bottle or a yoghurt pot.

They're biggest triumph was Tracy Island I think:



But here is my list of things I wish we had been taught to make on blue peter:

1. A car exhaust.

2. A music stand.

3. A camera lens.

4. A teleportation machine.

5. A house.

6. A horse.

7. A visa and passport to anywhere in the world.

8. An audi TT that flies.

9. Wings.

10. A life size statue of michael jackson

11. A hover board.

I <3 Dent.

It's been long time.

My life isn't exactly a barrell of laughs...

All my posts would be about financial woes, banks calling me, missing the boy, being scared of getting through passport control, missing toni, wishing i had an american job and visa, wishing I hadn't become a web design and just held out for some print design shizz, wondering if I should do my PhD, telling you that i got rejected from stanford... etc etc etc.

That and i'm feeling less inspired... and twitter takes my soul.

So, I'm here to tell you about my thumb.

Back in January I was zipping up my suitcase (because I've been living out a suitcase for a long time now) and I somehow jammed my thumb between that beautiful pink and black leopard print beauty and the end of the bed. The bed was made of some kind of solid ikea wood. It hit that bit of my thumb where the nail first appears and all my cuticle bits are hanging over. So my cuticle vanished for a while and was replaced with a red coloured cut and injury.

When I got home (almost 6 weeks ago now... only 2 weeks and 4 days, until I'm back) I took my nail varnish off and noticed a large dent in my thumb nail about a quarter of the way up and I had no idea why it was there, or what it was from.

It's taken me until this week to remember that it was the bed/suitcase incident that put the dent in my thumb.

The dent is now 3/4 of the way up my nail.

I like it.

It's my friend...

I'll be sad when it goes away. I might just have to grow my nail forever and be like that creepy gross guy that keeps his fingernails in a bag. They're so gross. I'm actually gagging thinking about that Jackass episode with him in it. Vomit.

What I'm amused by though, is the comfort I take from this nail dent. I am officially a girl, seeking symbolism and meaning in everything. The nail dent makes me happy because, even although it hurt like a shizzle fish at the time, it reminds me of happy living times.

I <3 the nail dent.

The Best Proposal in the World Ever.

I've always thought about the ideal proposal and I've come up with the most low key, un-galmorous, non-public real proposal which then elaborates into several proposals for 'public display and entertainment.' Why not have fun with it, one real one, and several fake ones, and it means when I am old and people ask how I was proposed to the story will change all the time and people will just think i'm making it up, but really, they all happened.

Anyway...

One such amazing proposal occured last night... one of my very good friends Paul the awesome Hichens proposed to his now fiance and I stole these pictures to show you how amazing it actually was.

I'm not sure where else in the world Kinder eggs are distributed but in the UK they are popular, and i remember buying loads when I was a kid to try and collect all the toys of a different series, like tiny terripins. Now, however, the toys are lame, the novelty is still there though. I love eating Kinder eggs.

This is not the point. The point is that Paul proposed with a kinder egg.












This is simply one of the best ideas i've ever seen... hence the blog mention.

Congratulations Paul :)