It's 3.15am and I can't sleep. It's not the sound of next doors baby crying that's keepin me awake, well, that isn't helping I can assure you, please just shove a dummy in its mouth or something for heavens sake. It's not the fact that my mouth is aching with pain and aspiration from last weeks operation, and it's not the fact that I finally said no to my past, even after those cheeky drunk text messages reminicsing about how he liked it when....yeah you get the point i'm trying to make. I just needed to write. I feel like as though my head is full of people, characters, thoughts. They're all telling me different things and no matter how much I tell them "lights out, time for bed!"...they won't dissapear. woah, I just realised how much of a schitzophrenic I sound right about now. I mean, you look at a photo that holds your fondest memory and it suddenly takes you back to that place and spirit, you see a picture of a beach and summer and you're suddenly back there. Or you see a painting of paris and your instantly transported to the fantasy of a life you've never experienced. And I read, and I read and I read. I believe you can never be a writer without reading, experience and experiences allow you to become something, somebody, and so I read. And then I get attached. I never want a book to end because I start to get attached to the characters. I want to know more about why Mollie never knew her mum, or why Alice dyed her hair blonde when i'm sure it looked much better brunette, and why Brett just stood there and watched 'the one' get married to his best friend. I'm afraid i'll miss them when they're gone.
I guess it's how you miss your mum's favourite spag bol when you're away from home, or the way you suddenly wish you were a child again, remembering how you were told that 'school really is the best time of your life' by your Mum's Cousin's Brother's Auntie who you see only on those really important birthdays. But the way you miss your favourite shoes, you know, the ones with the holes in that speak to you when you walk down the street now that the sole is half hanging off. Yet they are the most comfiest thing you own. But life isn't a pair of shoes, and Brett isn't real. (Although I do wish he was; Tall, dark, handsome, floppy brown hair, his own downtown penthouse apartment...Hello Bretts of the world?!!!!) But when I write it is real. I want to inspire. I want to lift you up and knock you off your feet, embrace your soul. Writing is a gift I want to give to others, with a purpose to drown people in emotion. It's about connecting. Like the way you do with that seaside photo...and just like the way I miss him when he leaves. The way I never thought I would.
Much Love, Is xoxo
Monday, 28 December 2009
Thursday, 5 November 2009
The One Where It's Her Choice This Time...
Whilst watching an episode of friends and picking at my dinner which I could hardly stomache through a mix of last nights alcohol consumption and the butterflies he's left me with, my mind flashed back to yesterday. 3 months. 3 months since I've seen mr potential future. I'd given up on this fact and therefore named him mr non future, or 'twat' as I prefer when I'm in one of my better moods. I mean, I was never at that stage with him where I was moving my toothbrush into his apartment and calling him 'baby', but I was at that stage where I was left empty when he stopped calling. Stopped visiting. And stopped caring. Or was that me?
'1 New Email Message': "Hey. It's me. If you still want to remember who I am. I've been trying to call. So, get in touch, i'm not done."
I'm not done? What's that supposed to mean? I'm not done writing this email? I'm not done cooking my dinner? I'm not done with my new girlfriend?...I'm not done with us?
So I call. I'm never the girl who calls or texts first but he wasn't done, he said so. And neither am I. I mean, I haven't moved on since him, I'm constantly checking his email updates to see what he's been upto, and when I over hear his name, I can't help but turn around to hope it's him.
So I figure he wants to talk. About what? I'm still asking myself this as he's sitting in front of me, wearing those blue eyes which make me melt every time he looks at me, and that smile which he knows gets him away with anything. And I bottle it. I don't want to hear what he has to say. Pathetic, Coward, Stupid some might say. But no, just scared. So again I put off talking, like I have every time he's called and now I'm back there again. Regret begins to nibble away at me. So we don't talk. We don't fight. We don't cry. We simply kiss and make up. What's there to talk about now I tell myself? Everything. And when am I going to see you again? I don't know.
So I hide inside to risk the broken hearted. A place where I don't want to go again. A place where the air seems colder, the streets are lonlier and the light at the end of the tunnel is out of reach. And this is all my fault. I have a chance to fix this and I can't let it pass. HE wanted me to call. HE wanted to see me. HE wanted to talk. HE said he wasn't done. I hear a voice. Its that man at the end of the tunnel calling out. Maybe it's time I walk towards him and talk. Afterall, It's my choice this time.
Much Love, Is. xoxo
'1 New Email Message': "Hey. It's me. If you still want to remember who I am. I've been trying to call. So, get in touch, i'm not done."
I'm not done? What's that supposed to mean? I'm not done writing this email? I'm not done cooking my dinner? I'm not done with my new girlfriend?...I'm not done with us?
So I call. I'm never the girl who calls or texts first but he wasn't done, he said so. And neither am I. I mean, I haven't moved on since him, I'm constantly checking his email updates to see what he's been upto, and when I over hear his name, I can't help but turn around to hope it's him.
So I figure he wants to talk. About what? I'm still asking myself this as he's sitting in front of me, wearing those blue eyes which make me melt every time he looks at me, and that smile which he knows gets him away with anything. And I bottle it. I don't want to hear what he has to say. Pathetic, Coward, Stupid some might say. But no, just scared. So again I put off talking, like I have every time he's called and now I'm back there again. Regret begins to nibble away at me. So we don't talk. We don't fight. We don't cry. We simply kiss and make up. What's there to talk about now I tell myself? Everything. And when am I going to see you again? I don't know.
So I hide inside to risk the broken hearted. A place where I don't want to go again. A place where the air seems colder, the streets are lonlier and the light at the end of the tunnel is out of reach. And this is all my fault. I have a chance to fix this and I can't let it pass. HE wanted me to call. HE wanted to see me. HE wanted to talk. HE said he wasn't done. I hear a voice. Its that man at the end of the tunnel calling out. Maybe it's time I walk towards him and talk. Afterall, It's my choice this time.
Much Love, Is. xoxo
Sunday, 26 July 2009
The Ex Factor...
Today got me thinking about past present and future. last night i fell asleep texting my past and this morning I woke up to a missed call from my present. Can you ever get to your future if your past is still present?
It's not often you find those people who you can tell anything too, who you can call in the middle of the night and know that they will always pick up. So when you do find them, you do everything you can to keep them close. So ok, he's slept with my best friend and has done things that i can only ever hate him for, so when i've just about put this out of my mind and it's time for him to call, why do i never just press reject? Believe me, i've tried, i mean i have, but then my mind goes mad, i mean like crazy mad. Maybe it's important? Is it his family? Is he hurt? (oh there has been times when i wish this was true)...has he rang to say sorry? No. How are you? What have you been upto? We should go for lunch soon. It's been far too long since we've had a catch up. And that's all it takes. He's now got me thinking about the past. About cliche walks in the park, nights in front of the tv, mindblowing sex in places i can no longer talk about...and about how perfect we were. Can you ever just be friends with an ex? Or is your past always going to catch up with you?
On that note, i'm off out with the present. Could he be my future? Maybe it's time to let go of my past...
Much Love, Is xoxo
It's not often you find those people who you can tell anything too, who you can call in the middle of the night and know that they will always pick up. So when you do find them, you do everything you can to keep them close. So ok, he's slept with my best friend and has done things that i can only ever hate him for, so when i've just about put this out of my mind and it's time for him to call, why do i never just press reject? Believe me, i've tried, i mean i have, but then my mind goes mad, i mean like crazy mad. Maybe it's important? Is it his family? Is he hurt? (oh there has been times when i wish this was true)...has he rang to say sorry? No. How are you? What have you been upto? We should go for lunch soon. It's been far too long since we've had a catch up. And that's all it takes. He's now got me thinking about the past. About cliche walks in the park, nights in front of the tv, mindblowing sex in places i can no longer talk about...and about how perfect we were. Can you ever just be friends with an ex? Or is your past always going to catch up with you?
On that note, i'm off out with the present. Could he be my future? Maybe it's time to let go of my past...
Much Love, Is xoxo
Friday, 19 June 2009
The Right Kind Of Wrong...
On the morning of my second date with Riley, things couldn't of gone better. Not only did i pick up the remote instead of my phone, but i spent the entire day wondering if he had text to cancel. Imagine that. You spend hours fighting off the butterflies, picturing your wardrobe in your head so you can plan your outift, come on girls, we all know this is the most important thing, and staring at the clock like it's a naked picture of Simon Cowell, just for him to press send on an excuse for not being able to make it that he thinks we haven't heard before. Thankfully after running up the stairs and tripping up the first 3 ("great, perfect, that means a beautiful bruise will be developing right about now. Bang goes the trustly LBD outfit i had planned on wearing.) I only had a text message saying he would pick me up at 8. Phew.
First dates are so much simpler than the second. On a first date it's a kind of blank canvas. It's then that you (and usually in the first 5 minutes for me) realise whether you find him attractive or not, and can see a potential second date on the cards. So things go ok, conversation is flowing, a few awkward silences is nothing to panick about, afterall, it's most probably the first time you have been alone together, and there is sure to be some nerves coming from both parties. You now find yourself playing with your hair and all those other things we do to try and impress him. There are three things however, which instantly put me off even thinking about having a second with him:
1. A randy text when he gets home from seeing you. No we don't wish we had come home with you tonight. This lets us know exactly what his idea of a 'second date' is, and that we are more than certainly not the only 'woman' in his life.
2. You notice things which are already niggling you. He has an annoying laugh, he eats like an absolute animal and checks that his hair is still in place in his dessert spoon. There is definately a blank space in your diary now where you had penciled in the words second date followed by a question mark.
And 3. A one way conversation. You already know his mothers maiden name, his first best friend and that every year he goes on holiday to France. And this is 20 minutes into the date.
So none of this applied to Riley. He was sweet, funny and despite his reputation, I decided to give him a chance, along with a second date.
Too much too soon?
Much Love, Is xoxo
First dates are so much simpler than the second. On a first date it's a kind of blank canvas. It's then that you (and usually in the first 5 minutes for me) realise whether you find him attractive or not, and can see a potential second date on the cards. So things go ok, conversation is flowing, a few awkward silences is nothing to panick about, afterall, it's most probably the first time you have been alone together, and there is sure to be some nerves coming from both parties. You now find yourself playing with your hair and all those other things we do to try and impress him. There are three things however, which instantly put me off even thinking about having a second with him:
1. A randy text when he gets home from seeing you. No we don't wish we had come home with you tonight. This lets us know exactly what his idea of a 'second date' is, and that we are more than certainly not the only 'woman' in his life.
2. You notice things which are already niggling you. He has an annoying laugh, he eats like an absolute animal and checks that his hair is still in place in his dessert spoon. There is definately a blank space in your diary now where you had penciled in the words second date followed by a question mark.
And 3. A one way conversation. You already know his mothers maiden name, his first best friend and that every year he goes on holiday to France. And this is 20 minutes into the date.
So none of this applied to Riley. He was sweet, funny and despite his reputation, I decided to give him a chance, along with a second date.
Too much too soon?
Much Love, Is xoxo
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Hey bubba "life's tough, wear a helmet..."
So today i open up my magazine to discover every girls worst nightmare and every guys hero:
"I have 15 girlfriends." Yes, this cheating rat is juggling 15 girlfriends spending £10,000 a year on dates alone. Imagine what we could buy for that; those shoes you've been window shopping for the last month, that dress that hugs you in all the right places, or even a million posters of Zac Efron that you could cover your walls with so not matter where you are in the room you never have to be deprived of his beauty...mmmm...so yeah, 15 girlfriends? what happened to monogamy? People spend their entire lives searching for their soulmate, for that one person that you can be entirely yourself in front of, and here he is, mr 'i'm not happy with just one lady' taking these girls for granted. It was then that it made me think about second chances. What would happen if he got caught out? With his pants around his ankles when he's supposed to be out for dinner with Katy, or is it Sarah? Would these girls give him a second chance? believe he is going to change? Most probably, yes. Every girl wants to be THAT girl who can change THAT guy. We like the chase as much as they do....
Everyone deserves a second chance. We all make mistakes. Nobody's perfect, imperfections are what define us from one another. We can all forgive, but should we forget? All of us are guilty of being naive in our lives, even if some more than others, and we are all guilty of questioning trust. But what is trust in a world full of ignorance and negativity? I'm the first to admitt i have trust issues. I have realised that being betrayed by your friends is the worst feeling in the world, yet why does my naivety still shine through? There's a difference between good people who do bad things, and bad people that do bad things, yet still a simple sorry is all i ask for...
Love isn't a maybe thing, so why do we throw those four letters around so much? Because of everything mentioned above. Insecurity, Naivety, mistakes, perfection and imperfection.
So maybe everyone does deserve a second chance, but what about a third?
Much Love, Is xoxo
"I have 15 girlfriends." Yes, this cheating rat is juggling 15 girlfriends spending £10,000 a year on dates alone. Imagine what we could buy for that; those shoes you've been window shopping for the last month, that dress that hugs you in all the right places, or even a million posters of Zac Efron that you could cover your walls with so not matter where you are in the room you never have to be deprived of his beauty...mmmm...so yeah, 15 girlfriends? what happened to monogamy? People spend their entire lives searching for their soulmate, for that one person that you can be entirely yourself in front of, and here he is, mr 'i'm not happy with just one lady' taking these girls for granted. It was then that it made me think about second chances. What would happen if he got caught out? With his pants around his ankles when he's supposed to be out for dinner with Katy, or is it Sarah? Would these girls give him a second chance? believe he is going to change? Most probably, yes. Every girl wants to be THAT girl who can change THAT guy. We like the chase as much as they do....
Everyone deserves a second chance. We all make mistakes. Nobody's perfect, imperfections are what define us from one another. We can all forgive, but should we forget? All of us are guilty of being naive in our lives, even if some more than others, and we are all guilty of questioning trust. But what is trust in a world full of ignorance and negativity? I'm the first to admitt i have trust issues. I have realised that being betrayed by your friends is the worst feeling in the world, yet why does my naivety still shine through? There's a difference between good people who do bad things, and bad people that do bad things, yet still a simple sorry is all i ask for...
Love isn't a maybe thing, so why do we throw those four letters around so much? Because of everything mentioned above. Insecurity, Naivety, mistakes, perfection and imperfection.
So maybe everyone does deserve a second chance, but what about a third?
Much Love, Is xoxo
Sunday, 15 March 2009
The girl with the perfect everything...
Once upon a time there was a girl. She fell in love very quickly, but fell out of love even quicker. Then one day her handsome prince came along and they bought a huge castle on top of a beautiful mountain and lived happily ever after.
Bullshit. Fairytales aren't true, neither do they come true. They are an imposter of our imagination, an escape from reality when the good is being taken over by the bad.
I remember as a little girl, my cinderella dress being worn monday to sunday. So naive, so young, yet knowing nothing more than i do now. Even then i was searching for mr right, for my prince charming, for that tall, dark and handsome man to rescue me on his white horse.
And now, i find myself questioning it every single day. Mr right. Good old Mr right. Does he even exsist? Is he reading this right now? If you are....keep quiet, i don't think my heart can handle you yet.
We are forever students, learning and teaching our entire lives. But if we actually listen to what we are being taught, or take our own advice, then that's another thing.
"Babe, he's walking over you like a door matt, he's got you right where he wants you so that with a click of a finger hes back in your pants."
"Babe, he's walking over you like a door matt, he's got you right where he wants you so that with a click of a finger hes back in your pants."
De je vu.
Some things, we just have to learn for ourselves...
So basically, my love life sucks, i have just discovered that life isn't the fairytale i have been living in for the past 6 weeks, i have 2 huge spots on my chin making me look like the wicked witch and my oldest friend has just found the guy she is going to spend the rest of her life with whilst i'm eating cookie dough, chocolate, buying topshop and spending numerous hours watching chick flicks to make my life seem remotely better.
And this is me, Isabella Brown, throwing my hands up to the world and saying that maybe, just maybe, i don't want to be the girl with the perfect everything...
Much Love, Is xoxo
Bullshit. Fairytales aren't true, neither do they come true. They are an imposter of our imagination, an escape from reality when the good is being taken over by the bad.
I remember as a little girl, my cinderella dress being worn monday to sunday. So naive, so young, yet knowing nothing more than i do now. Even then i was searching for mr right, for my prince charming, for that tall, dark and handsome man to rescue me on his white horse.
And now, i find myself questioning it every single day. Mr right. Good old Mr right. Does he even exsist? Is he reading this right now? If you are....keep quiet, i don't think my heart can handle you yet.
We are forever students, learning and teaching our entire lives. But if we actually listen to what we are being taught, or take our own advice, then that's another thing.
"Babe, he's walking over you like a door matt, he's got you right where he wants you so that with a click of a finger hes back in your pants."
"Babe, he's walking over you like a door matt, he's got you right where he wants you so that with a click of a finger hes back in your pants."
De je vu.
Some things, we just have to learn for ourselves...
So basically, my love life sucks, i have just discovered that life isn't the fairytale i have been living in for the past 6 weeks, i have 2 huge spots on my chin making me look like the wicked witch and my oldest friend has just found the guy she is going to spend the rest of her life with whilst i'm eating cookie dough, chocolate, buying topshop and spending numerous hours watching chick flicks to make my life seem remotely better.
And this is me, Isabella Brown, throwing my hands up to the world and saying that maybe, just maybe, i don't want to be the girl with the perfect everything...
Much Love, Is xoxo
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
The party of all parties...
So it's monday night. £1.50 drinks and a chance to drink away those Monday blues...
...And for her, the boy blues too!
He hadn't called or text. Another one bites the dust.
"I just don't understand, it's not like i sleep with them on the first date, or talk about kids and marriage. Am i really that awful to be around?"
Of course she isn't...
It's kind of like her wardrobe. Messy. Some things fit, but they need throwing away, or given to someone else. Those beautiful, lavish garments, but they just don't seem to go with anything else she has. And then those shoes. The red 5 inch killer heels, which hug her feet perfectly. The only thing is, they're on the top shelf..and she just can't seem to reach them.
...And for her, the boy blues too!
He hadn't called or text. Another one bites the dust.
"I just don't understand, it's not like i sleep with them on the first date, or talk about kids and marriage. Am i really that awful to be around?"
Of course she isn't...
It's kind of like her wardrobe. Messy. Some things fit, but they need throwing away, or given to someone else. Those beautiful, lavish garments, but they just don't seem to go with anything else she has. And then those shoes. The red 5 inch killer heels, which hug her feet perfectly. The only thing is, they're on the top shelf..and she just can't seem to reach them.
But you know what? Those Jimmy Choos can wait, cause right now, she's having too much fun to sort anything out, let alone her wardrobe. But when she does...i've already put my name on that cute little black dress.
Much Love, Is xoxo
Sunday, 22 February 2009
When He's Just Not That Into You...
"Likeable romcom, enlivened by a strong cast and a decent script, though it's still 30 minutes longer than any romcom has a right to be."
And a fabulous 30 minutes at that...
It picks and scrapes at every womans mind, and answers those questions which your girlfriends (or you're GBF ('gay best friend' for those of you who are not quite up to date on this whole abrieviating thing yet) are just too 'kind' to answer..
It picks and scrapes at every womans mind, and answers those questions which your girlfriends (or you're GBF ('gay best friend' for those of you who are not quite up to date on this whole abrieviating thing yet) are just too 'kind' to answer..
If he's not calling you...
If he's not having sex with you..
If he only wants to see you when he's drunk...
Yes, you guessed it..
As i watched religiously at the sterotyped female characters (and, of course, Ben Afflecks bottom) i witnessed almost every dating drama to date:
The lying, dishonest man; The confusing, crossed-signals 'i want you now i don't' guy, the 'i just want to be friends' kinda man; The nice guy who you want it to work out with but it just doesn't fit one; Oh and our all time favourite..da da daaaaa..The j'ust trying to get into you're pants' man.
***
So, you've just come out of a relationship with the one guy who feeds you them cheesey bullshit one liners and leads you into thinking 'he's the one'. So you need some time with your girlfriends, a few movies, a few too many glasses of wine, and a few cheeky text messages to the 'Ex-Ex' (yes, the one who you dated before the one you're trying to get over).
And then he comes along. Dixon. He's just what you need right now and you have everyone saying "the best way to get over him is to move on". So that's what she does. The private 'folder' of his text messages (even the realllllly dirty ones) DELETE. His number. DELETE. The pictures of you both together. DELETE. His facebook. DELETE. Ok, maybe not his facebook, come on, whats better when you're so close to trying to remember his number to text him to see 'how things are', then clicking onto his page to see his status still set as single and the girl he's standing next to in that photo making nelly the elephant look like she has anorexia.
Gone. Out of your life with a sigh of relief. Afterall, she's got Dixon now right?
Or maybe not.
I mean, he's a nice guy, not exactly her 'type' but hey, maybe they have the spark?
The spark. Does the spark even exist? Is it that feeling that even the first time you see him you want to tear his pants off right there and then? Does it grow as you both get to know eachother?
No. But to her, yes. The spark DOES exsist, and is she feeling it? No.
And that's when you have to ask yourself..
What if she's just not that into you...
Much Love, Is xoxo
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Blogging? What the hell is blogging? Of course i've heard about the supposed 'blogosphere' but i never quite understood how it worked or why it was ever created. First Myspace, then Facebook, and now blogging. Is it like the place for writer's annonymus? Ok, here goes, 'Hello everyone. My name's Emma and I want to be a writer'.
Blogging. Right, so i've spent the last hour and a half learning about how this 'blogging' thing rolls, and saying blogging over and over again in my head. Blogging. Blogging. Blogging.
So, what are we doing tonight? Shh Isabella, not now.
Why is everyone typing away so fast? What the hell are they writing? So it can be some sort of online diary, right? maybe that could work. Or something i'm interested in? Hmmmm..
Oh come on it's not that hard. You're really not helping Is. Well then just write about me. Isabella Brown. Everything you wish you were, but everything you're not...
Blogging. Right, so i've spent the last hour and a half learning about how this 'blogging' thing rolls, and saying blogging over and over again in my head. Blogging. Blogging. Blogging.
So, what are we doing tonight? Shh Isabella, not now.
Why is everyone typing away so fast? What the hell are they writing? So it can be some sort of online diary, right? maybe that could work. Or something i'm interested in? Hmmmm..
Oh come on it's not that hard. You're really not helping Is. Well then just write about me. Isabella Brown. Everything you wish you were, but everything you're not...
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