tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44631397615362789972024-03-13T21:06:11.713+00:00Still in my NightieThe Arts. Lifestyle. Beauty, Style and Me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-52167586570749581982016-04-05T01:25:00.000+01:002016-04-08T22:57:59.359+01:00But… aren’t I your best friend?<h1>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></h1>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I've</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> been dumped. Or at least demoted <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YaV-9fntqvI/VwMSLZ3l-KI/AAAAAAAAB0g/TalRg1h9PvkHT8dYQE8qBnOX6koNfKZvQ/s1600/amelia-pond-amy-pond-amy-x-eleven-christmas-special-doctor-who-Favim.com-309732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YaV-9fntqvI/VwMSLZ3l-KI/AAAAAAAAB0g/TalRg1h9PvkHT8dYQE8qBnOX6koNfKZvQ/s400/amelia-pond-amy-pond-amy-x-eleven-christmas-special-doctor-who-Favim.com-309732.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">There’s
someone else, you see. My “bestie” has found someone else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Oddly,
and in spite of how obvious it’s been, I hadn't really acknowledged this until
today. I think I was in denial, or maybe
I was trying to avoid the reality, but there’s been things that, in hindsight,
have SCREAMED that I am no longer number 1 (or number 2, or any single digit
for that matter) in the friend department, but even so,a recent event really took the biscuit.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I mean, it
really, </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">really</i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> took the biscuit. And
what’s worse, I don’t think the act was noted by the perpetrator (aka “the
BFF”). I don't think they realised how what they did affected me. And whilst at first I shrugged it off, it later dawned on me – my eyes
finally opened </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">–</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> and I realised...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">You aren't as important to this person as you were, Kartonia.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">So
whilst I admit, I may have sat here for the last hour eating a box of Thornton’s continental
chocolates, pondering why, how and when this happened, with old photos at my side
as I reminisced the good times – *sniff
* – I am proud to say, I have now put that box of chocolates away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Yes,
that’s right. I've moved away from the box of chocolates, straightened up and had
words with myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"I'll find myself a new Bestie," </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Yes, that's right. I'll hold vacancies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Apply here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Please?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Anyone? ... Hello? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I'm really nice, I promise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But, in all
seriousness, t</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">h</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">e fact is, I know people grow apart, I've written about it before, but in this situation,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> I was the one left behind. It wasn't a mutual thing. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> I'm no longer this person's first port of call, even though, they’re still mine. And that, I must admit, isn't a nice feeling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">The truth, however, is people’s tastes change </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">(in my case, it’s more than apparent that I'm no longer top of the menu) and that’s fine. It stings, but its fine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">In these situations, you got to keep moving, keeping smiling, keep being. Immerse yourself in the things you love, and keep reaching, keep making those new connections.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Gaining and having a best friend (and </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">by that I </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">mean that one</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> who you can tell everything to, someone who you cry on the phone to for a good hour without uttering a single word) is AMAZING, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">And anyone who has one, (and lets be honest, not everyone does, regardless of the amount of friends they may have) </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">will tell you, if you don't know already, that the love you share, the fact that you have someone who you can be your complete and utter self around, is like magic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But as much as society likes to shunt forth the idea that all forms of love is guaranteed -- I mean, come on. Every character in almost every film, book, and Ad seems to be submerged, if not heading for or coming out of these things -- the truth is, it isn't. It is not guaranteed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Not everyone will find a partner in crime, or passionate love (sad, I know) whether its in an intimate manner or simply platonic. Many go through life either not knowing it exists, (sounds bonkers, but it's true) or craving it and never getting it at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">So I’m
thankful that my bestie was my bestie for the time they chose to be, and
whilst I may not be top of their list anymore, we’re still friends (I hope) just
in different way. I grew with them, learnt from them, laughed with them, and
now, with the gems I acquired from that level of the relationship, it’s time to
move on with the change and see what’s to acquire from this new level, (even if
it is a lower level)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> Because that’s what life is all
about, right? Changes. And as much as we like to think that only “up” is good, “up”
“down”, “left” and “right” all have
their things to gain from too. We learn and grow from them all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Love, Kartonia<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">xxx<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-519649185807392702015-12-13T19:46:00.000+00:002015-12-13T22:27:22.408+00:00The hunt for the one | I love you, You love me not. (Me and the literary agent)I've done it again. I've fallen head over heels for an agent. A literary agent.<br />
<br />
I've done it before, numerous times, and here I am, having ruddy done it again.<br />
<br />
You see, as a writer, and aspiring novelist, picking a literary agent who you wish to represent you, and your work is no easy thing. You don't want any Tom, Dick, or Harry-ette. You're looking for the <i>one</i>. The <i>one </i>who you'll spend a career with. And so, in my case, I do my research (which, of course, is a nicer way of saying I stalk them online). I work to find out if we could be a good fit. <i>Do they like what I have to offer? Are they in to New-adult? Do they like Fantasy? </i>I read their wishlists, their Blog posts, and interviews, I look into those they currently represent... and then it happens, I try and fight it, but it just happens. I fall.<br />
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I fall head over heels. And so, I lop off the piece of my heart I've been working on (that being my manuscript), I compose a cover letter for it, and just before I submit (with sweat prickling out of my armpits, my palms becoming clammy, and my breaths heavy), doubt creeps in, and I decide to go over everything all over again.<br />
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S<i>urely the won't want me. Maybe I </i><i>should wait another week, read through my work all over again, and then submit.</i><br />
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<i></i>But then, another ten weeks go by, and enough. I'm being ridiculous. How long am I going to keep putting this off. Even my doubt is laughing at me. It didn't expect to have me going for this long. And so I march over to the laptop. <i>I'm going to do it, </i>I say<i>. Today's the day. I'M DOING IT.</i><br />
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My fingers hover over the send button, my heart thumps, fighting to break out of my chest as if it wishes to avoid bearing witness to this car crash. And then...<i>click</i>. I've done it. I've submitted that email, knowing it'll turn up in their mailbox as an attachment Word file (unless of course its preferred that I just paste it into the body of the email.). Then I wait. I wait, and the unrequited love grows.<br />
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It starts off slow - I mean, I've been hurt before, you know how it is. I've been turned down, either by being blatantly ignored, or by being given those painful, soul-crushing lines that include, <i>thank you, </i>or <i>many thanks, for sending me </i>"blah blah blah" <i>but unfortunately, </i>or<i>, regretfully, </i>or <i>I'm afraid... </i>And right there and then, it dies.<span style="text-align: center;"> What could have been dies, and I'm left reaching for the pot of ice cream (although it's frozen yoghurt these days, I'm trying to be a bit more healthier.) and a glass of sparkling wine,</span><br />
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You see, in my world, for those 6-8 weeks (often times more) I've been waiting for this agent's acknowledgement, and or response, with butterflies, and as I stumble upon more of their clients and posts, and words of wisdom and advice, my love for them swells.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh my gosh, they just said their reading </i><i>through their slush pile in this tweet. ...</i><i> Maybe they'll mention me in a tweet. ..</i><i>. Oh, no, </i><i>they've just mentioned people not following the submission guidelines</i><i> in this tweet.</i><i> Is that me? Did I not follow their guidelines properly. Is our relationships doomed? Is it heading for the rocks? Are we on the rocks? Have I not even the impact to face the rocks?</i><br />
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And then it comes. The email. The response...<br />
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<i>Thank you</i>... <i>but... </i>.<i>unfortunately</i>...<i> not suited... keep trying elsewhere</i></div>
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And lump in my throat builds a little. My eyes sting somewhat too. I had <i>loved </i>this agent. I had seen a future, and they took one look, and flicked me aside. They don't want me. *<i>reaches for spoon, heads to the freezer</i>* I gave them my heart, and they took a look and passed. <i>Did it repulse them? Did he/she chuckle and flick it away? Or was it the wrong time?</i><i> How could I have gotten them to love me, like I love them? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<i>How will I ever fall for</i><i> another agent like this again? </i></div>
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But then I fix up. <i>There's plenty more fish in the sea...right? Yes, </i>I think, as I console myself,<i> but that fish count is finite. </i>Panic sets in. <i>Who am I kidding? I can't do this. Why would they fall for me out of the thousand of others chucking pieces of their heart at them? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<i>The stars, </i>as they say,<i> must be aligned to find this elusive ONE.</i> </div>
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I have to hook them in just the right way, at the right angle, with the perfect hook, made of the perfect material, at the right time, Is that even possible? I'm not the luckiest of people. But the truth is, I can't stop this. This must be done.</div>
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And so, I straighten my back, and get on with it. <i>Let me me go back and check my heart (manuscript) for any faults, </i>I say to myself<i>. Let me find what it is that could have turned them off. Let me see what i can fix to make my heart (my manuscript) loveable.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A few months later, and I'm buzzing again<i>.</i> I've found one. I think they may be the <i>One. </i>... And oh, no... I'm falling.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-35902843427181788552015-10-27T02:52:00.002+00:002016-04-08T05:30:43.322+01:00La Diablesse <div style="text-align: justify;">
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Ok, so the Notting hill carnival was two months ago now. I waited all year for it, and it came and went in the blink of an eye. Now it's October, for goodness sake, and now Halloween's ruddy knocking at the door.</div>
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Lucky, this year, I got to wear the beautiful costume, (designed by Melissa simon-Hartman) entitled <b>La Diablesse</b>, in the <b>Wrath </b>section<b>.</b></div>
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On top of that, I got to extend my partying in this amazing costume, by doing a bit of touring with the whole Carnival/costume shebang. And so, during September, I got to bring, and continue, the party vibes - with costumes, makeup, music,and a whole lot of jumping - to.<i style="text-align: center;">...</i><i style="text-align: center;">*Drum roll, please*... </i><span style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">Shanghai.</span><br />
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Yes, Shanghai. With Elimu invited, for the sixth year running, to partake in the Shanghai tourism festival, I was lucky enough to join. (More details and pics in the next post).</div>
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For now, however, here's Notting Hill Carnival Sunday, and Monday in Elimu, with the makeup looks I created, and rocked, (even if I did have to wake a good hour - <i>Yes. HOUR -</i> earlier than I wanted to to create it in time,)<br />
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I don't know about you though, but I think I'm pretty much sorted for Halloween, no?<br />
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Sunday's Makeup look...</h3>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeMcyuBCZEg/Vwcz3iloe5I/AAAAAAAAB2o/LcodBrzi8CoTdqHm8HljKUH5i1ISNdRRg/s1600/2016-03-30%2B09.01.20%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeMcyuBCZEg/Vwcz3iloe5I/AAAAAAAAB2o/LcodBrzi8CoTdqHm8HljKUH5i1ISNdRRg/s320/2016-03-30%2B09.01.20%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HTz15EB97Ic/VwczkljYgUI/AAAAAAAAB2g/suNj5y0t348Z73k5-jWd4489LgZjRN8ww/s1600/2016-03-30%2B09.01.21%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HTz15EB97Ic/VwczkljYgUI/AAAAAAAAB2g/suNj5y0t348Z73k5-jWd4489LgZjRN8ww/s320/2016-03-30%2B09.01.21%2B1%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Monday's Makeup look...</h3>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CFHRBJ1uY68/Visavt0W_tI/AAAAAAAABxE/8Rv6wsVPOEk/s1600/DSC_0318%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CFHRBJ1uY68/Visavt0W_tI/AAAAAAAABxE/8Rv6wsVPOEk/s400/DSC_0318%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="256" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jUd3kTD1miY/VisZ04jQwlI/AAAAAAAABwc/FrLoTLNojPE/s1600/DSC_0327%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jUd3kTD1miY/VisZ04jQwlI/AAAAAAAABwc/FrLoTLNojPE/s400/DSC_0327%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="232" /></a></div>
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<h3>
...and Monday's costumes </h3>
And here I am rocking the La Diablesse costume, in black, with my Mummy, (Band Queen) dressed in white, looking ABSOLUTELY gorgeous, as she waits to put on her back-piece, </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ksuyrmgV5U/VisartbJBqI/AAAAAAAABw8/WX7e9j_wetc/s1600/DSC_0284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ksuyrmgV5U/VisartbJBqI/AAAAAAAABw8/WX7e9j_wetc/s400/DSC_0284.JPG" width="222" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6xNjryj-_E/VisbGI2IPOI/AAAAAAAABxM/2mty2NvCALM/s1600/DSC_0257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a6xNjryj-_E/VisbGI2IPOI/AAAAAAAABxM/2mty2NvCALM/s400/DSC_0257.JPG" width="222" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erSvcrZwN7g/VisagsQ5fxI/AAAAAAAABw0/neDNyhwYUxo/s1600/DSC_0265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erSvcrZwN7g/VisagsQ5fxI/AAAAAAAABw0/neDNyhwYUxo/s400/DSC_0265.JPG" width="222" /></a></div>
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And off we went, partying on the streets of Notting Hill From morning till night.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hOLs8VPHY9M/Vi2f-bUuLNI/AAAAAAAABxs/QtCeK5v8LWw/s1600/facebook_1441126878902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hOLs8VPHY9M/Vi2f-bUuLNI/AAAAAAAABxs/QtCeK5v8LWw/s640/facebook_1441126878902.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
With the King... </h3>
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...and the Queen...</h3>
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...Followed by their loyal subjects...</h3>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-2289816001385565822015-05-28T15:55:00.000+01:002015-05-30T13:08:32.270+01:00The ELIMU Phoenix has risen<br />
<br />
Carnival is, yet again, around the corner. And this year, I am soooooo excited, and filled with pride, with the mas band I was born into. <b><a href="http://www.elimumas.com/"><span style="color: #444444;">ELIMU</span></a></b>.<br />
<br />
Having been a member of this band since I was a foetus in my mother's womb, ELIMU has only ever been, in my eyes, a band of progression, For the last few years, however (ever since some of our key designers went off to do other things) things have kind of...well, taken a dive.<br />
<br />
Some of the new designers that took hold of the 'head designer' baton where simply overwhelmed, some didn't have the heart for it, or were dipping their toes into an area they had no real desire in, but were doing it simply because they were asked. <span style="text-align: center;">But enough of all of that. </span><span style="text-align: center;">This year, ELIMU has returned to glory.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/21679_465212626988500_2039516352822854023_n.jpg?oh=bb4d613e534eb0afb6a9d4aa443fca5e&oe=55F6D757" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/21679_465212626988500_2039516352822854023_n.jpg?oh=bb4d613e534eb0afb6a9d4aa443fca5e&oe=55F6D757" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melissa Simon-Hartman</td></tr>
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One of our former designers, Melissa Simon-Hartman, has decided to slip back into her her rightful role as Designer, and not just designer, designer, but HEAD Designer.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yr3p25ASvxc/VWcyC1RgrhI/AAAAAAAABug/uTyCVkmFfKc/s1600/11123689_1612097575668557_1967402006_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yr3p25ASvxc/VWcyC1RgrhI/AAAAAAAABug/uTyCVkmFfKc/s320/11123689_1612097575668557_1967402006_n.jpg" width="182" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiffanni Thompson</td></tr>
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<br />
Working with Melissa, we also have costumes by Tiffanni Thompson, which, again, makes me so happy. When I was little she was always the creative, artistic type, teaching me how to create the perfect bubble writing and graffiti text (on paper). Now she has cast her spell on us with her 'LUST' section.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
A Resurrection has taken place people, a<span style="text-align: center;">nd ELIMU has quite rightly noted this as an</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> <b><a href="http://www.elimumas.com/"><span style="color: #444444;">ELIMU </span></a></b></span><b style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.elimumas.com/"><span style="color: #444444;">Resurrection production.</span></a></b></div>
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<b>THE FALLEN</b> is the theme. And there are Seven deadly Sins playing it out. in the form of Sections<br />
Here's a few to wet your pallet... </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>ENVY</b>: </span>Section Designed by Melissa Simon-Hartman<br />
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'THE SNAKE CHARMER'<br />
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<img src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/s720x720/11081496_10153084668971357_1706819242220296550_n.jpg?oh=073657b5e16bcce16d1515ac67564fd1&oe=560C1AB7" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>WRATH</b>: </span>Section Designed by Melissa Simon-Hartman<br />
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'LA DIABLESSE' (Frontline)<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zg6I0kGnc7g/VWcjE2GTknI/AAAAAAAABtQ/iVuPuGL6044/s1600/11324996_371211266402259_1545999534_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zg6I0kGnc7g/VWcjE2GTknI/AAAAAAAABtQ/iVuPuGL6044/s640/11324996_371211266402259_1545999534_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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'LA DIABLESSE' (Midline)<br />
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<img src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xft1/v/t1.0-9/11054478_10153210652261357_6120390863841726251_n.jpg?oh=3d86e19a85e4c50a71d096f9e6945e44&oe=5600895C" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>PRIDE</b>:</span> Section designed by Melissa Simon-Hartman<br />
'JASON & MEDEA'<br />
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'MEDEA' (Frontline)<br />
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<img height="426" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xat1/t31.0-8/11130030_467763803400049_8174387994133301797_o.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img height="515" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xaf1/t31.0-8/10298603_464728797036883_7455383005668897131_o.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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'MEDEA' (Midline)<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="473" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/11052392_463777597132003_1053770179620691146_n.jpg?oh=c32256913580b296d54f3f9d74cf05a9&oe=5601D457&__gda__=1443288893_90f97043ab487259bcb548422ce64176" width="640" /></div>
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'MEDEA' (Backline)<br />
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<img src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xft1/t31.0-8/s960x960/11078248_467764183400011_2741579021178198860_o.jpg" /></div>
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'JASON' (Frontline)<br />
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<img height="417" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/1908134_462795520563544_276109172135637611_n.jpg?oh=aeaaa9cb0647c9b3eee9807215d1c086&oe=55FF9D52" width="640" /></div>
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'JASON'(Backline)<br />
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xat1/v/t1.0-9/11242428_463269743849455_280500187395319161_n.jpg?oh=8dbfc5b44f67de7c45bfa16a0766dd28&oe=55FA9632" width="640" /></div>
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LUST : Section Designed by Tiffanni Thompson<br />
(frontline - backline costumes)<br />
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<img height="579" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xtp1/v/t1.0-9/11219128_468428580000238_5745095576691930047_n.jpg?oh=2e7e6db9aa6fe46274b635d733fd1e00&oe=55FA5793" width="640" /></div>
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ELIMU is a family who welcomes all with open arms, so if you're interested in becoming a member of the family for a day or two, and are looking for something exciting to do this summer, why not head over to <span style="color: purple;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><a href="http://elimumas.com/">Elimumas.com</a> </span></b></span>and pick a costume from a wider range. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOhVo4ABFJc/VWcrk67cCCI/AAAAAAAABuI/PV-ULXsMbkw/s1600/10724793_1392385987754593_1297662134_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dOhVo4ABFJc/VWcrk67cCCI/AAAAAAAABuI/PV-ULXsMbkw/s320/10724793_1392385987754593_1297662134_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Don't hesitate, sections are filling up fast.</div>
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I've already picked mine, hopefully I'll see you there.</div>
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xxx </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kartonia<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-26164083985805026102015-05-17T05:50:00.000+01:002015-05-18T08:03:43.913+01:00Diamonds in the Rough<br />
They say that five good things can happen to you in one day, but that if one bad things happens amongst it, all five good things are forgotten.<br />
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Just like that, all of that good gets discounted.</div>
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Whilst I have not had five good things and one bad thing happen today, I have had a crappy last few weeks. And by past few weeks, I mean month and a half. And by crappy, I mean crappier than crap. Literally, April, and May so far, has been S*@%. Beyond S*@%. But today, after stumbling into the photo's and video's I took before everything went to pot, I remembered that...<br />
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...Yes. Life can sometimes knocks you down, and whilst your down it can, and often will, kick you over and over again, and when everything seems to have calmed, and you finally think it's stopped, and you make your way to stand once more...<b>BANG</b>. It'll kick you down again, but when I can (and I say "<i>when I can"</i> because sometimes your head's just too battered in do anything for a bit.) I have to take note of the good stuff, </div>
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We so often miss, or take for granted the small stuff that make us happy, or the good people that surround us or come into our presence,<br />
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So right now, I acknowledge the diamonds in the rough. (I know that phrase is used in reference to people with great, but hidden, qualities, but I really feel this fits here, so I'm rolling with it) I acknowledge those little (or big. I'm in no way discriminatory here) things that pop up, or are always there, but are overlooked, (especially during the crappy times.)<br />
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And for me, a good ol' diamond I've been focusing on to get me through, is family.<br />
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Mother's day (a good two months ago now) and that look on my mum's face = a <b>Diamond moment.</b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SUaeCWL5MiA/VVff_A7wJoI/AAAAAAAABrM/YBFnHyxMrTM/s1600/IMG_1965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SUaeCWL5MiA/VVff_A7wJoI/AAAAAAAABrM/YBFnHyxMrTM/s640/IMG_1965.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-24P3MaEMZlY/VVff38nMFZI/AAAAAAAABrE/Axry8LaFD4E/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-24P3MaEMZlY/VVff38nMFZI/AAAAAAAABrE/Axry8LaFD4E/s640/IMG_1955.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The way this massive cupcake I made for my brother's 13th birthday turned out so yummy (according to him) and so gorgeous = a <b>Diamond moment</b></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsDPa-dj9dk/VVfids6L1QI/AAAAAAAABrc/D3HbqZPEjJo/s1600/IMG_2004%2Bstain%2Bremoval%2Bamateur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsDPa-dj9dk/VVfids6L1QI/AAAAAAAABrc/D3HbqZPEjJo/s640/IMG_2004%2Bstain%2Bremoval%2Bamateur.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The look on my brother's face when he found, and scoffed, said cupcake = a <b>Diamond moment</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2MEoECfb66s/VVfgSUf5kDI/AAAAAAAABrU/6U8LiZYWGL8/s1600/IMG_2021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2MEoECfb66s/VVfgSUf5kDI/AAAAAAAABrU/6U8LiZYWGL8/s640/IMG_2021.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The togetherness, and the Frozen cake I was given for my birthday = a <b>Diamond moment.</b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FOKN6WKDeNc/VVfjMeTPDeI/AAAAAAAABrk/Qhbg5hqXQhE/s1600/IMG_2032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FOKN6WKDeNc/VVfjMeTPDeI/AAAAAAAABrk/Qhbg5hqXQhE/s400/IMG_2032.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lu8SWCQFb8/VVgbFkeG6SI/AAAAAAAABr4/gDt-MxgXOvk/s1600/IMG_2055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7lu8SWCQFb8/VVgbFkeG6SI/AAAAAAAABr4/gDt-MxgXOvk/s400/IMG_2055.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And there are so much more.<br />
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So, even if I can only muster this for a day, today I refuse to feel the weight of my current circumstances. Today, whilst laying here on this figurative floor, with my face crushed against its oak panels (for some reason it's an oak floor in my mind. Don't ask me why.) I shall acknowledge the greatness amongst all the crap. A shall acknowledge the beauty of the grooves <span style="text-align: center;">in the oak. I shall find the diamonds in the rough.</span><br />
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xxx</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kartonia<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-40552073411382958472015-04-05T04:00:00.000+01:002015-04-10T13:56:25.048+01:00VEGAS!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last summer I spent a week in... <b><span style="font-size: large;">VEGAS</span></b>, baby!!!! </div>
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And I know, I know. I should have filled you in then. but as much I had a story to tell, (shhh shh. "What happens in Vegas..." and all that), I hadn't the snaps to add. <span style="text-align: center;">But all of that has changed.now. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">From an unknown source, (my cousin), came these little rascals. Photos. Evidence. And it's been a long time coming. </span></div>
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So, without further ado, here's a snippet of my Vegas adventure in a few snaps. I daren't add the one of me passed out in a bath tub, mind. </div>
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It all started off so sweetly. Here we are at Gatwick airport. "Ooh, Look. There's a massive teddy bear, Lets's go make friends." say's my cousin and I. So off we went.</div>
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Having landed in Vegas, the heat was a shock. As we searched for the taxi rank. I stated, '"It feels like when you open an Oven door and get a wafting surge of heat in your face. Except this is constant...and all over my body. Then off in an air conditioned Taxi we went in search of our hotel.</div>
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As each night fell, out came our drinks in the hotel room for a little preparation for the nights events...<br />
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And so our partying began.</div>
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Don't ask me who this guy is. I have no idea.</div>
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The day's were often filled with strolling and lounging around, often in search of these alcoholic Slushies. </div>
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Having spent the first two nights at the <i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Paris </span></b></i>hotel, we moved to spend the rest of of our holiday in the <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Cosmopolitan </span></i></b>hotel. (it was a lot cheaper that way, trust me). With the hotel being slap bang in the middle of the strip, check out the view that greeted us from our balcony both by day...<br />
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......and night<br />
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Day: Strolling, lounging, searching for <i>more </i>slushies...</div>
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Night: Slap on the make-up, and party. And <b>Repeat</b>.</div>
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We were on a loop, but it was a good'un.</div>
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xx</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-37944340793333797042015-01-31T23:42:00.002+00:002015-04-09T01:33:35.971+01:00Winter Dryad | Substituting My Canvas For My Face<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's SNOWING OUTSIDEEEEEEEE. It's early Saturday morning, like early, early Saturday morning, like 5am early, and as I write this it's SNOWING. Well, it's not actually snowing snowing, but there's a blanket of snow covering the cars and street, so, yeah. And,as it's Saturday morning, it's like the song goes "and since we've no place to go, let it now, let it snow, let it snow"<br />
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It's also perfect timing for me to share this look with you. I call it my <b><i>Winter Dryad</i></b>.</div>
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Yes. I've been at play with my makeup, No. It's not the look I go for when popping to the shops.</div>
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Lately, I've been less at work with my canvases, and back to my roots of playing havoc with my face, As a result, my version of a winter Dryad has taken over.<br />
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And here's a video of the process...</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Kartonia</span><br />
xxx<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-83703038276876694332015-01-05T23:37:00.001+00:002015-02-01T00:35:31.014+00:00On the twelfth Day of Christmas...| Goodnight, Christmas<br />
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There's been smiles like this...<br />
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There's been days jam-packed with laughing, followed by arguing, followed by giggling, followed by chases all amongst food and drink that has left us so knackered we'veconked out on the sofa like this...<br />
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...but it has come. The last day of Christmas, (sniff, sniff), and whilst the lights in our house, and along the streets of the nation, will shortly be coming down, I want to officially bid farewell to the beautiful, sparkle that has made my heart so warm and snugly on these cold winter nights.<br />
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Goodnight, beautifully, twinkling Doorway. You welcomed me home with a love so warm, and twinkling, radiating far in the dark mornings, afternoon and nights.</div>
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Goodnight, Christmas Tree. This Christmas you once again kept my Gifts for other warm, whilst simultaneously cuddling the gifts that surprised me. Gifts that I will adore for time to come</div>
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I mean, check out my new measuring spoons. Cute or what? (Mum definitely spoiled me this year with a range of presents. Not to mention a Smart TV. Definitely didn't see that one coming.)<br />
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Goodnight, Reindeer.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dkLrlnl_Ifw/VK39s2V3QhI/AAAAAAAABas/-fHSDWMySR0/s1600/IMG_1310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dkLrlnl_Ifw/VK39s2V3QhI/AAAAAAAABas/-fHSDWMySR0/s1600/IMG_1310.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OKInqhX2S2A/VK380yuN7UI/AAAAAAAABaY/pc8Y3xj_Dgg/s1600/IMG_1311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OKInqhX2S2A/VK380yuN7UI/AAAAAAAABaY/pc8Y3xj_Dgg/s1600/IMG_1311.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Goodnight, Christmas, 'till next time. xxxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-89413726579858181032015-01-04T22:44:00.002+00:002015-02-01T00:20:25.584+00:00On the eleventh day...| GrazingI don't think. in the last eleven days, I've had a chance to get hungry. And, as Christmas comes to an end, there are more than enough empty chocolate boxes and wine bottles scattered around the house to remind me of how much we've been stuffing our faces.<br />
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Seriously, we've been Grazing, for goodness sake. Near on twelve straight days of Grazing. I'm dreading the the upcoming days, where my body has gotten so used to the constant grazing, that it constantly feel hunger.<br />
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Oh, well. For now, I'm s off to pop another chocolate in my mouth. Why not? I might as well make the most of it while I can.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-51639755258266078712015-01-03T20:28:00.002+00:002015-01-12T08:08:19.095+00:00On the Tenth day of Christmas...| Remembering Loved ones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j49wUto_TXo/VLN_q0l5rlI/AAAAAAAABb8/chgkepLKycU/s1600/IMG_1170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j49wUto_TXo/VLN_q0l5rlI/AAAAAAAABb8/chgkepLKycU/s1600/IMG_1170.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Granddad</div>
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12th September 1933 - 3rd January 2012</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-51979146209829056932015-01-02T22:42:00.003+00:002015-01-08T04:23:06.136+00:00On the Ninth day of Christmas...| Stocking up on a Makeup Fave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Maybelline 24hr colour tattoo is definitely a favourite of mine, and as Superdrugs currently has a buy 3 for the price of 2 deal going on, I couldn't help but stock up and buy 9. </div>
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I got 2 for Free. YAY!!!</div>
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I love going heavy with these gel eye shadows and coating my eyes with their gorgeous colours, but for my recent "subtle, frosty look" I went light on the use of the Pink and Ruby colours.<br />
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Have you tried Maybelline's 24HR Colour tattoo eye shadows yet?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-19600107299104788312015-01-01T23:35:00.000+00:002015-01-03T02:27:45.574+00:00On the eighth day of Christmas | Happy New Year!<div style="text-align: center;">
It's the first day of yet another New, yet imaginary (lets be honest, now), Year, and, for me, on this day, there will be no promises, or unrealistic timelines to my hopes and dreams that I will cast like. I will not give up on choccies or sweets or make a pledge to lose weight before my birthday or else. No, no, no, no, no. All I will do, all I can do, is live each day as it comes, strive to be happy, try and remember to absorb my surroundings, and let things be. "Simples"</div>
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!<br />
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Now I'm off to have another glass off bubbly. Kisses</div>
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Kartonia.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-58264084006454823232014-12-31T21:47:00.001+00:002015-01-12T07:45:23.043+00:00On the Seventh Day of Christmas...| The Frosted, Subtle, New Years Eve Look<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I've been a sloth for the past few days, (drinking mulled wine in my Pyjamas), but as it's the last day of 2014, with only a few hours left 'till the BIG "2015", I think it's high time I put on some sort of a face. And so, to welcome in the New Year, I've Ended up with this. A frosted, subtle look.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-63278239856396560822014-12-30T21:05:00.001+00:002014-12-30T21:05:24.992+00:00On the sixth Day of Chrstmas...| Presents still under the treeWe aren't like most families. Very rarely do our presents get opened on the 25th of December.<br />
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It started off when we were little. If we were naughty, we weren't allowed to open our presents, not until we learnt the error of our ways, or until mum felt we had suffered enough. We would cry, we would whine, but it did the job, if we wanted to open our present we'd better behave.<br />
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As a tradition, we open our presents after our dinner. Bellies stuffed, nighties and pyjamas back on. And so, as we've gotten older, we have gotten used to this arrangement of the 25th going by with presents still sat under the tree (mum still finds it necessary to make us wait, of course. Besides, it's not as if our stroppy outburst and arguments have improved with age).<br />
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Our presents are usually opened before New Years eve, but as it stands, it's the 30th, there's been another full on argument, and as you can probably tell by the images, we still have a bundle of presents under the tree. However, unlike the younger Kartonia, I now kind of like this tradition of ours. It's unique to us. It allows the festive feeling to continue as it should do along these twelve days of Christmas, not to mention the bargains I got on those presents I couldn't get before 25th, which I've now secretly slotted secretly under the tree. Genius.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-56923231277425289982014-12-29T23:45:00.004+00:002014-12-30T20:09:06.450+00:00On the fifth day of Christmas...| Help, these people are Bonkers<br />
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I've been absorbing my families antics today. Like really absorbing, taking it in and noticing the details.<br />
There's <b>Noise</b>, there's <b>Banter</b>, there's <b>Arguments</b>. It's bonkers.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Noise:</span></b>Today, sat there, watching a film,we spoke. And by "spoke", I mean, all of us spoke, at the same time, all over each each other, our voices getting louder as we each fought for our voices to be heard. Who knows what they were talking about, I can't even remember what it was I was talking about, but all I know is that several times today, voices were raised until a blur of screams ensued, and my head began to spin.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Banter:</span></b> We always tease each other, but seriously, this Christmas, a season of goodwill and love, has seen some serious banter going on. Banter, which, to the untrained ear of any normal being, would do nothing but offend. Even as i quickly type this now, I've just been sworn at by sister, who has followed her expletive by the sweetest of smiles. But it's<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Arguments:</span></b> A series of Arguments having broken out so far. Slammed doors, knocked over presents. Swearing, Footsteps storming up the stairs, and fights over the last chocolate are pretty normal things anyway, but as usual the Christmas festivities has only highlighted and amplified.<br />
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Together, honestly, we're off our rockers. I pity those who turn up on our doorstep, or those merely walking past our house. The sounds that must come from our house (I'm guessing it sounds like a mixture of squealing pigs, excitable pigeons, koalas, and thundering elephants) must be petrifying.<br />
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We're <span style="font-size: x-large;">Loud </span>and we're <span style="font-size: x-large;">Bonkers</span><span style="font-size: large;">, </span>and I love it, but shh, don;t tell this lot that.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-43119946494367417082014-12-28T23:48:00.001+00:002014-12-30T21:19:14.276+00:00On the fourth day of Christmas... | Sparkly, pretty, Christmasy Homes.Oh, that warm, fuzzy feeling that a house decked out for Christmas gives me is on another level.<br />
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Since the beginning of December (mid November for some) homes, streets, shops, you name it, having been decking themselves out for Christmas, ours included. Outside of our house, amongst other lights, stands these gorgeous reindeer, and I am in love with them. My love is as strong for them this year as it was the last and shows no signs of dwindling. I genuinely fear for their safety. I mean,, they're so preety. What if their lights go out forever? What if the wind finds a way to take them away? What if we need a replacement and never find them, or the equivalent to them again? What if -- Shh. I can't think about it. I won't. But how cute. eh?<br />
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My granddad's Christmas bells.<br />
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We always have this little otter on the windowsill, but he just looked so cute with golden lights of Christmas and the sun going down.<br />
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There's something so magical, and heart-warming about this time of year, with its twinkly lights, baubles, and golden hues. Shops, streets, and houses are glimmering and I'm dreading the 5th of January when it's time for them to come down. <br />
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Until then, I will continue to bask in the festive warmth and twinkling lights that surround me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-13187862200763371182014-12-27T23:40:00.002+00:002014-12-28T06:54:49.176+00:00On the Third Day of Christmas... | An Abundance of FoodFood, food, food. There's so much yummy food.<br />
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I cooked this year, an act which is becoming a bit of a habit in our house, and, as the tables currently stand filled with nibbles, the fridge still has scrum-diddly-umptious leftovers that are dwindling fast, We're eating full, hearty meals of meat and sauces in the morning for goodness sake. We're eating chocolate for lunch. There is no order to our madness, and I'm loving it. </div>
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My mum made these yummy spicy, fish fritters, which have disappeared and have had to be remade several times so far. They're are seriously too good. </div>
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My signature summer-fruit muffins were requested by my younger brother. And the cake, of the same sort, sits in my new cake tins by <a href="http://www.denby.co.uk/cook-and-dine/cherry-red-jet-black-3-piece-cake-tin-set/invt/192011800"><b>Denby</b></a>. I love these tins a little too much, my brother, of course, loves what they are designed to hold.<br />
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Oh, I love Christmas. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-37098049634105974522014-12-26T23:38:00.001+00:002014-12-27T06:58:10.785+00:00On the Second Day of Christmas... | Boxing Day<div class="MsoNormal">
…Annnnnnd the secrecy, wrapping, and distribution of gifts
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I love taking out my well-hunted pressies from their
hiding places, wrapping them up and seeing them look all pretty with their bows, which leads me to one of the things I love about Christmas.</div>
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Giving
presents.<br />
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As a child it was always about wishing to see what it was that was under the tree for me, but now, finding that one thing I feel fits that certain person, seeing the look on their face as they receive their well wrapped gift, especially if it turns out they really like it, feels sooooo good. I love it. It's a serious natural high for me, people. A serious natural high.<br />
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What about you, do you love hunting, wrapping and handing out presents, or does the mere thought of next Christmas's present hunt fill you with dread?</div>
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<o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-2151230630903581452014-12-25T11:04:00.001+00:002014-12-27T06:58:23.984+00:00On the First Day of Christmas... | Love and be Loved<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Merry Christmas!</span></div>
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The last few days of advent has seen me running around like a headless chicken on the hunt for presents (which, like every year, I had planned to do in advance, but, as usual, failed) and stocking up on lots of yummy nibbles, drinks and food for this Christmas period.<br />
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And so it begins. Christmas is here. The first day of Christmas. A day where family can row and food can burn like never before, but before doors start slamming, or possible wishes for the day and Christmas period in general to end, take a second and look around you. I mean really look. Look past all of the annoying little stuff. Look past the present you possibly hate, the effort you've put in to something that seems to have been overlooked, the rowdy aunt in the corner, or the cremated food, and take what's there in. This is your family, no matter how big, small, annoying, or loud. These are your friends. This is your Christmas. Love and be loved.<br />
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So, whilst I'm about to go and bang the turkey in the oven, whilst half of my family are still asleep, and the other half are nattering in the living room, I just wanted to say that, wherever, or whoever you are with today, be it family, or strangers, I send you lots and lots of love and wish you a merry, merry Christmas.<br />
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Kartonia. xx<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-69193214688089906252014-11-27T04:53:00.001+00:002014-11-27T18:33:41.593+00:00Talking Periods with the Males in our Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Shhhh! I'm on my period."<br />
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"And there is no way I'm going to that cute guy at that till. He'll see my basket of pads and tampons."<br />
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If you're a female, then that "time of month", that uncomfortable, nauseating, painful first few days, awash with emotions and cravings, where the shedding of our uterus lining literally feels as described (the gouging, tearing away of flesh within), is something you are either more than aware of, or soon will be.<br />
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The gushing of uterus lining and blood that expels from our nether-regions cares not for the type of knickers or outfit we're wearing. It doesn't care about the important event we have for that day, nor does it care for the intricately laid sanitary towel, or fresh tampon you may have just placed. If it's going to gush, it's going to gush. And if en-route it feels the need to present itself in the form of pain that resembles metal hooks latching, dragging and slicing through the flesh of our uterus, it'll do that too, for some more so than others, so, considering this, shouldn't the other half of our human species be more clued in on all of this.<br />
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I mean, that's half of all of humans either menstruating, going to menstruate, or having menstruated. That's a lot. And yet, a lot of the guys I know don't seem to know very much about what actually goes on. Many shudder at the thought, even when some of those thoughts don't go further than "blood" and "grumpiness". And it's not exactly there fault, is it? If it doesn't happen to you, or people aren't frank about it with you, apart from doing all the research yourself, how are you supposed to know?<br />
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Some people like to treat the whole time-of-the-month thing as if its a process never to be spoken about. A process females, on all accounts, are to keep from guys. I've seen guys literally, recoil at the mere mentioning of the subject, whilst some women's eye widen with horror, as they laugh nervously, when you go into details in front of a guy. Some women find it necessary to hide their tampons and sanitary towels up their sleeves en-route for the toilet, whilst others break into a sweat when their handbag falls and out pops the dreaded, rolling tampon or flying pad, and all the while, other people expect that of them. They expect your ability to hide your period, and your sense of embarrassment when you've failed at that.<br />
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A few days ago. my youngest brother, aged 12, was curious as to what was this "period thing" that me and my sister was always having, which caused us pain and had us seeking what he likes to call "nappy's". And as his sister, it was my place to enlighten him on the oh, so mysterious "Period". So I did. I broke it down, openly discussing the process as my mum cringed, which was somewhat better than her cry of, "Kartonia! He doesn't need to know all of that." when I declared my period and its process to my other brother, aged 20, He, however, did run a mile covering his ears screaming, so I guess she was onto something there.<br />
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My youngest brother, however, seemed genuinely interested, and why not? It's a weird, foreign thing for him. A process he could never imagine happening to the closest females in his life, let alone his mum, and all the women he's ever met. Did he flinch? Did he run away screaming like his older brother? No. He nodded, said my other sister must always be on her period considering her constant grumpiness, and got on with what he was doing. And, in all honesty, I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting a look of disgust, mainly because that's the look some guys give. But no. He was cool. And he should be.<br />
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Maybe if we were all just more open about it with the males in our lives (granted, for the first dozen times, some will scream, whilst others will merely disappear over the horizon) it'd lose its stigma. History has shown times where everyone was cool with periods, Why now, in our modern age, are so many people ashamed of it?<br />
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I'm a human, a female one. I menstruate. Get with it, or get out.<br />
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What do you think? </div>
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By far, my favourite area for make-up is the eyes. I love seeing other people's eye make up, and I love putting on and playing with styles of my own.<br />
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So if we're to take note of the make-up worn on our recent catwalks, I, without further ado, will proceed to grin like a Cheshire cat, because eyes seem to be the focus for this Autumn/Winter.</div>
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Here's my take on this Autumn/Winter's bold eye look, with sweeping blacks, metallic greys and silvers.</div>
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Excuse me while I shove my face onto your screen.</div>
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Bold, Bold and more bold. Autumn/Winter 2014 cries out for lashes to lashings of mascara, eyeliner and dark shades. All of which are topped off with nude lips.</div>
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Will you dare the bold look this Autumn/Winter?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-66003689022577094382014-10-04T17:11:00.000+01:002015-04-10T10:16:25.198+01:00Colours of the Rainbow Makeup | Red & Gold <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I haven't been wearing much make up recently - who am I kidding? I haven't worn any make at all. <i>Sacré bleu!</i> I know, I know. So I thought why not, in jumping back in, make a SPLASH. </div>
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A splash of Red & Gold</div>
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Now, you might be saying, <i>'Oh for goodness sake, Kartonia. Summer has finished now, This looks summery.' </i>And to you I say. A summer face is cool. You don't need to restrict yourself. Besides, it's still kind of summery outside. And look. Red and gold. It kind of looks like the leaves on the trees at this time of year... kind of.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4DQOwHwnKb0/VSeSmlaxotI/AAAAAAAABpo/EBpbd5jPdo0/s1600/IMG_0477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4DQOwHwnKb0/VSeSmlaxotI/AAAAAAAABpo/EBpbd5jPdo0/s1600/IMG_0477.JPG" height="200" width="178" /></a>To start off I gave my skin a bit a moisture with <b>Avon's Royal jelly face cream</b>. and then plopped on a bit of <b>Avon's Extralasting concealer.</b></div>
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Now, I don't have any red eye shadow, so, waste not, want not and all that, I used some of my lippy. <b>Avon's Matte Ruby</b> </div>
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<b><b>liquid eye-liner </b><span style="font-weight: normal;">and</span><b> Jillian Dempsey lash booster</b></b><b></b></div>
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On my cheeks, my favourite and long term partner in crime, is <b>Avon's Arabian glow Deep bronze. </b> It's what Avon calls a <b>Multistylo, </b>as it can be used on your eyes, cheeks and lips. I've been buying this for years. Love it.</div>
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And then, stepping it up a notch, I wore the Matte Ruby in the way it was intended. </div>
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A splash of colour or what,<br />
right? </div>
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Will you dare add a splash of colour? <br />
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And that, my friends, is how I know that Carnival was AMAZING this year.</div>
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Even my tights told me I had a good time. Look at the state of them. (Just so you know, they're not supposed to have holes in them.)<br />
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Don't worry, I'm not going to upload a picture of what I look like right now. I don't want you to fall off your chair/bed, choke on what your eating or give you nightmares. I will, however, give you the likes of these...<br />
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It poured. Oh my goodness did it pour. Carnival Monday saw buckets and buckets of rain fall down on us and those brave enough to turn up. Did it dampen spirits? Of course not. If anything, it added fuel to our figurative flames of excitement and passion.<br />
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It's like my Dad said, "Rain on carnival separates the average partier from a true raver." Yes, he said "raver". And he couldn't be more right, because, in telling me that the best carnival he went to when he was younger was one where it poured, I snapped him on that. I could relate. This was an amazing carnival. <br />
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I was soaked to the bone by the end of it. My corset was drenched, my hair was soaking, but funny enough my make up hadn't budged. Honestly though, dancing in the rain for seven hours probably isn't the smartest thing to do, (I was shivering like crazy when I got home, even after I came out of steaming, hot shower), but boy was it fun.<br />
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So, to those dark clouds swelled with rain I say... bring it on. You can't stop us from partying through the streets.<br />
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Where were you on Carnival Monday? </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-23003721507284712242014-08-29T17:49:00.001+01:002015-04-05T17:05:54.925+01:00Notting Hill Carnival Sunday | Elimu Welcomes TFL<br />
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Sunday (traditionally known as Children's day) at the Notting hill Carnival consisted of Sunshine, music and dancing.<br />
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On Carnival Sunday the adults in our band don't wear the costumes. Instead they parade around in their T-shirts representing the theme and getting merry. However, this year we had two t-shirts, and Sunday, unlike Monday (which was Blue and representing our theme), was all about the colour Red. Red? Why yes.<br />
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This year we were partnered with TFL (Transport for London), and not only were we celebrating carnival, but 60 years since the launch of the Routemaster bus.<br />
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Mum dons a white wig, of which she happily wears all the way home.</div>
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Tired, but ready for Monday</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167344035287815008noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4463139761536278997.post-1624555019707334702014-08-23T17:01:00.005+01:002014-08-27T23:07:47.331+01:00Regenerations | Changes are Cool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I never used to be one for lipstick, but now... well... I should probably let the following photo's do the talking...<br />
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Subtle eyes with striking lips. I love it, and it's probably because I've regenerated.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tenth Doctor's (David Tennant) regeneration</td></tr>
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In homage to my favourite show, whose new series starts tonight (in 2hrs & 50mins to be precise. So EXCITED), I thought I'd talk about regenerations. </div>
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"Regenerations? What the hell are you on about, Kartonia?"</div>
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Bear with me. </div>
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"Please. For the love of all unicorns running free in woodlands, please, Kartonia. Please don't get all Science-Fictiony on me."</div>
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*Raises hands in surrender* I appreciate you may not be interested in the world of Doctor Who, (each to their own and all that), but this isn't about the show... not exactly. </div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b><i>"We all change, when you think about it. We're all different people all through our lives, and that's okay. That's good. You've got to keep moving so long as you remember all the people that you used to be." </i></b></span></div>
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If you watch Doctor Who, you'll probably recognise this beautiful, heart wrenching speech, written by Steven Moffat and brought to life so effectively by the Doctor, played by Matt Smith. If you don't watch the show or know what I'm talking about, then, to sum this up, this quote is taken from a scene where the Doctor, the protagonist of this story, is about to regenerate. A process in which his entire body and his personality (likes, loves, hates, tastes, you name it) changes. It's kind of like a death... but it isn't one. I suppose that can be confusing if you don't watch the show, but let me just tell you, I cried watching this scene. Seriously, I had Goosebumps, my throat had a massive lump in it and I cried like a baby. </div>
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Some of you may be rolling your eyes, and to you I say.................. *sniffles* Leave me and Doctor Who alone. Seriously, it was really sad. Like really sad. I don't know if it was as sad as Tennant's "<b><i>I don't want to go</i></b>", but it was really sad.</div>
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But getting back to the point, beyond the fantasy of Doctor Who, those words in the Eleventh Doctor's speech (noted above), really resonated with me. I mean, we all change, don't we?</div>
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I certainly have. I mean the girl who used to cry when seeing her mum's face at every Primary school assembly (infants, not juniors), is not the same girl who tried to lie about her name and address when she was caught by TFL ticket inspectors with no money on her Oyster card as she stepped off a train on the way to secondary school, nor is she the same girl who spent the last year working with Autistic children, where the average day saw her get punched, kicked, spat on and scratched, and that girl is certainly not same person who has found the confidence to start this blog or upload a sketch of hers to Youtube (still can't believe I did that one, actually).</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/VmVlCIsIxIg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I've changed, several times. My tastes have changed, my views, my <a href="http://stillinmynightie.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/my-eyebrows-are-sisters-not-twins.html">eyebrows</a>, my makeup, hair colour and style. I've learnt and gone through things that have changed me. And I'm sure I'll go through more things that'll change me even more. One of my oldest friends has just shaved her head, clean bald, picked up her rucksack and has gone travelling, currently having stopped in Israel. She has changed, she's morphed into this fearless, free spirit, wandering off and exploring, not afraid of anything. And that's cool, like the Doctor said "You've got to keep moving." </div>
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Changing is cool, but let's not get it twisted. Not every change will result in us being a better being than that of before, nor will it mean that we are guaranteed to be more content. You'll often here people crave some of those attributes of their former selves. "I wish I had the guts like I did back then". And, if for a second we could focus on the vanity side of these changes, I'll be the first to put my hands up and say I wish I had the unblemished, flawless skin I had from ages 0-10. I mean come on. I've got to wax and everything now, not to mention the fact that at this very moment I have a dollop of toothpaste on a spot that's decided to appear on my chin overnight. </div>
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I like to think, that unlike the Doctor, and with our persona, along with the vast amount of changes that happen without our say, we also get to choose when we change. If we don't like our hair, we get to choose whether or not we do something about it. If we don't like how a certain person treats us, we get to choose, if we want to walk away. We get to choose a new sense of style, or to jump into something that scares the hell out of us. We get to choose. We regenerate, and on top of that, we, get, to, choose. </div>
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What about you, have you regenerated recently? </div>
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