This could be the hardest piece of writing I’ve ever had to…urr… write I guess. Ten things I could not should not and would not live without. Ten things. Only ten things. Just ten things?!! And me in this big bad world overdressed in glitz, indulgence and chocolate variety. How ever will I cope?!! However, never one to step away from a challenge, not I, one will attempt. However ladies and gentlemen, (uh-huh, flattery gets you everywhere I’ve been hearing,) I do not promise a fascinating opinion nor a tantalising read. Nope, instead, welcome to the whims and ways of a very peculiar Daysleeper – be prepared to be bored whilst I revel in my own self-indulgence….
Oh dear, I’m stuck already. Concentrate gurl….
TEA: Just milk, lots of milk, and more milk than that please. At least six cups a day, several in chain, if it’s been a particularly horrible one. My father always scorned the television. English movies, and soaps and adverts. He’d get drunk and blasphemy off bout how ‘bloody stupid’ it was that when times got tough they stuck the kettle on. Have you guys ever noticed? It’s true. They do.
Nora runs in to her friend’s house, mascara running down her face… ‘Oh Doris, the Hoovers just exploded, the rents overdue, baby Emmanuel won’t stop howling and me hubbies ran off with the milkman – for the love of God whatever should I do?’ Doris looks on…. perturbed … ‘I’ll stick the kettle on!’ Scene shoots off to two completely satisfied smiling females whilst baby Emmanuel coos in the background to the sound of his father and the milkman sha…
Hold up, you’ve got the picture, I’ve taken it too far!!!
Well I agree. Completely and wholly I put my trust in Tetleys. Whenever I’m gloomy, tea makes it momentarily smaller. It’s my cup of comfort. Whenever I’m freezing, tea makes my cheeks rosy again. It’s my cup of warmth. Whenever me mum and me are at each others throats, tea raises the white flag. It’s my cup of peace. And whenever I’m loosing myself in my fictional world of books, tea is my transporter. It’s my cup of escapism.
All that said, I can’t decide if I actually like the taste… hmm… moving on…
MUSIC: ‘My name is Sara and I am a musicaholic.’ I love, need, crave, yearn, and pine music. All the time. My Cd collection is my prize possession in its quantity and diversity. The internet is my God send when it comes to songs I just MUST have. And my sole objective is to educate my daughter in all streams of musical consciousness. (Okay that’s actually a lie, don’t call the social, but these list things must come in threes. Its just the way it is.)
I love all types of music and whats ‘hip and now’ with me generally reflects my mood of the moment. (No need for the temperamental female jokes leading to each CD getting a thirty second spin ya hear?!) RnB, soul, jazz, punk, rock, classical, even French underground funk have a place in my ever-expanding collection at the expense of my bank account. As I said - I crave music. Whether I just want to chill, whether I want to jump in a rage, whether I want to get down and get groovy; music is my accompaniment, my companion and my God send.
It lifts moods, makes moods and deepens moods. (I really am working this listing in three’s thing.) Gotta have, gotta have it, gotta have it. Insanity would prevail if you tooketh it away.
CUDDLES: I just couldn’t not have snuggles. From my little girl, from my ‘big bro’ mates and from my lover. Cuddles make my world go round. Nuff said.
Shit – that’s only three, oh dear, I think I’m struggling…
EMMA: well if other Ciao-ers can list their lovers and hubbies then surely I can list my monster?! She’s two and a half, completely beautiful and… a sarcastic little madam. No, I was truly blessed with this one. Being so young when I had her I thought I would struggle immensely, but she makes the ride so worthwhile (I won’t lie, it has been bumpy.) It’s amazing how the crumbled world is cellotaped together when she giggles and how mountains are molehillified when she whispers ‘ I wove you thiiiiiiiiiiiis much mummy.’ And she gives the best huggles.
Maintaining honesty however, she can also be the reason why tea, music and cuddles are employed. Sometimes escapism is a must, before the child leaves through the nearest window. (Nows probably a good time to call in the social… hehe.)
BOOKS: I am a literature freak! Unfortunately it only includes all fiction apart from the books I’m supposed to read for my English degree. It also doesn’t include any work of non-fiction - so I learn little other than what author’s rock and suck in my humble opinion. I go through stages of reading intensely for weeks, caught in a multicoloured world of words – and then it takes me a couple of months to fix my reality that I’ve been gone from for so long. Then I repeat the cycle. Books don’t provide escapism; they offer you a whole new reality to belong to. I literally loose myself in their world, and I stay there until the author chucks me out. Some people imagine living other lives – I’m too lazy, I let other people imagine and I just hitch a ride. Something magical about it though. Something addictive about other peoples worlds through other peoples eyes still allowing you to put your own twist on things. Yup, I am a literature freak! (I’ve just realised I really don’t paint the prettiest picture of myself do I?)
DANCING: I’m in my pyjama’s, cuddled up in my bed – music is on in the background, I’ve a good book, a cuppa and Emma is tucked up and snoring gently through the intercom. And then, out of nowhere, my favourite club in the big smoke starts whispering my name, softly, seductively…. Within three minutes I’m dressed, make-up-ified and flashing my gold card to skip the queue and gain free entry. Oh the beats… oh the movement… wow!!!
I love to dance. I LURVE to dance. Most people go clubbing – I go dancing. Don’t need alcohol; don’t even need much company come to think of it. All I need is a bit of space, some music, ANY music and me!
Stress relief and exercise all in one. I need to dance, and I do, regularly, to keep me smiling.
TEXT MESSAGING: and now the currently hidden really weally sad Daysleeper rears her ugly head.
I cannot go half an hour without checking my phone for texts. It’s constantly on silent cause the continuous BEEP does my head in… and my families… and my friends….and my dog. I am that ignoramus soul who is wholly listening to a conversation but will stop it mid flow to reply to a text. Or I’ll play text politics and not reply for five hours – just to piss you off - cause in my wee head you deserved it. I’m always texting. During lectures, during dinner, during the cinema. I even wake up in the middle of the night to check my phone. And first thing I’m caught doing in the morning is checking my phone. It’s sad. It’s obsessive. And it’s bloody annoying. I hate HATE people like me, but I can’t snap out of it. I’ve tried, I turn my phone off, but it’s back on within five. I’ll leave it at home, but first thing I’ll do when I’m back is run up the stairs and check. Even now, I don’t get a reception in our study, and I’ve left the computer three times throughout the duration of this opinion – not for tea, but to check my texts. Sad sad sad! And very peculiar. Eeek!
JOURNAL: yup, I keep one. I rarely scribble day-to-day events down, unless they’re particularly spectacular. It’s more a culmination of ideas, or clever sayings I’ve heard, or moments I’ve witnessed that made me smile, or poems, mine and other peoples. Plus its got ticket stubs and photo’s and letters and mag cut-outs stuck throughout. It’s pretty impressive to flick through. You try and read it though and I’ll kill you. Swear! Had it since 1998, it’s a black 1998 diary, but now it’s a mangled mess of me. I love it and always dreamed that one day I would give it to someone I really loved so they could really see me. Does that make sense? But I don’t think anyone would ever love me enough… ever to forgive me for some of the entries and thoughts and doings. We shall see.
Another two… all I need is another two…
BAGGY TROUSERS: I gave up on being a ‘burd’ a while back. It’s too much hassle this looking pretty, pulling because I flashed a bit of flesh, keeping up with that fashion malarkey, the new make up tips, Jennifer Anistons new diet. I guess I maybe just found me and dumped the trimmings. But I stick out a mile from most of my mates – them with their matching shoes and bags, me hidden in my little t and me baggy pants. I may not look as attractive as them, but I’m comfortable and smiling and dam straight my trainers are hurting my feet less then their heeled knee-highs. I love my baggy pants. They hide all my insecurities and give me an air of confidence, plus I think I look pretty cute!!
GIGS: okay, it kinda ties in with the music one but I’m running out of inspiration here. Maybe there isn’t all that many things I need. But you can’t beat a live show – you’re fave band in person screaming at the crowd. It’s an amazng buzz, the electricity in the atmosphere, WOW!
That’s me, that was certainly tough and not an adventure I will be going on again for a while. I though writing about me would be simple, but products are soooo much easier, plus I get paid. This has taken me longer and was more stressful (will go dancing to relieve though) than any other opinion. Ach weeel…. Welcome to the brain of me, thankyou for reading, I’m off for a cuppa…
Smiles, Daysleeper x
it's all about MEEEEEE 
so......txt politics........mmmmmmm!!!!! drew xx