tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41600429287161381042024-02-07T04:10:20.469-08:00365 Days, 365 Photos.A year's worth of moments.tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comBlogger349125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-70285912105814702032022-01-22T06:01:00.006-08:002022-01-22T06:01:55.112-08:0014 ☆ shy, tormented, youth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWayqSZdH1ufJk0WEwmUvUVBstcp_BED1ib1BZuNCsBAbNvb-GUV2ChIScCUnri6SkLT_XzSw9IBWGEuXJVOesEfKZER8_SNujSzwl9PJmsK8mNTPukzNDXTo0ZFGY67anB5simn_8dujd-8UOg033oJnppOclTRlrd9PmAiaf1o6aGbc9vyls-jai=s4756" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3171" data-original-width="4756" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWayqSZdH1ufJk0WEwmUvUVBstcp_BED1ib1BZuNCsBAbNvb-GUV2ChIScCUnri6SkLT_XzSw9IBWGEuXJVOesEfKZER8_SNujSzwl9PJmsK8mNTPukzNDXTo0ZFGY67anB5simn_8dujd-8UOg033oJnppOclTRlrd9PmAiaf1o6aGbc9vyls-jai=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My friend, it has been <i>a week.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2T3jgoAMbBXiMMD8pSc6QL?si=facbb701143d446f">This is The Life | Amy Macdonald</a></i></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-79620584103714175502022-01-21T07:43:00.000-08:002022-01-21T07:43:23.202-08:0013 ☆ i'm so good at fantasy<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGhbd1ffLnhxXMzoDlt7DyjrrQkbq5XNLt8b4b4vaqRVyviEJxylT7yGiNQleeQ2JxPErP_64KxZF8I8BIqo4lDxTG0d_lYUdhe0Iw8-fFi1lde_qHMi1k4lPFbcjA6gZOoXUmbTDJjw7oDflv7j3b84FmOOhTPtLXpl1raPpdmnlJADXSjLAj6DAd=s4692" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3128" data-original-width="4692" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGhbd1ffLnhxXMzoDlt7DyjrrQkbq5XNLt8b4b4vaqRVyviEJxylT7yGiNQleeQ2JxPErP_64KxZF8I8BIqo4lDxTG0d_lYUdhe0Iw8-fFi1lde_qHMi1k4lPFbcjA6gZOoXUmbTDJjw7oDflv7j3b84FmOOhTPtLXpl1raPpdmnlJADXSjLAj6DAd=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Myth says that Eurydice never minded that Orpheus looked back. Sure, it doomed her to an eternity in the underworld and meant that she would never go home. It meant that there would be no sun, no hope, no laughter or light. There have been scholars who have poured over the consequences of Orpheus's actions. But, so the story goes, Eurydice wasn't one of them. To look back at the one you adore is so unbearably, heartbreakingly human. She had been loved in the purest manner, both on earth and in hell. There isn't a lot that tops that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When you sent me that letter - written in your sprawling, scrawling hand - I couldn't quite believe it. We have been taught for so long that simplicity is akin to convenience and convenience would have been sending me a Facebook message saying "in town next week, you around?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But no. No, you had scribbled a letter in the stilted manner of somebody who never writes letters. You had rounded up paper, envelope, stamp (first class, I appreciated that.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And you finished it with, "I miss you."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You loved me when I put you through hell. You were gracious enough to love me at my meanest, my most selfish. You were kind and patient and trusting enough to love me when I was hell-bent on destroying myself as quickly and efficiently as possible. You let me love you when I came to you with open, empty hands and a heart that was so decimated that the cracks were big enough to disappear into. You let me love you when I felt as if all I could give you was my body - my soul, my everything - I couldn't find it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then, after all of that, you looked back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was unbearable, and heartbreaking, and human.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0N0XI4g2MLQudookL1UBUr?si=983f4495999f4fd3"><i>66 Days | Rozzi</i></a></div></div><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-71952538790302207802022-01-21T07:26:00.000-08:002022-01-21T07:26:07.594-08:0012 ☆ kicked out the garden of eden<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAHCm9s5dmxwiM3zUuxXHhsnhlLnA19Z66u-c8dXXJnDf5p4LG4T4wevnPdqTKusa65MCH0v4bqF18sGA0zY4TPFiirIm0JRe0a1geLBqsczHCkl86Y1mhutC7fj8bOUkeIeDLw6NfZzuvm2tVS1OT3z-iBshxzsXySwxTKPvkZBXPZ_06DJeQ7yPA=s4984" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3323" data-original-width="4984" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAHCm9s5dmxwiM3zUuxXHhsnhlLnA19Z66u-c8dXXJnDf5p4LG4T4wevnPdqTKusa65MCH0v4bqF18sGA0zY4TPFiirIm0JRe0a1geLBqsczHCkl86Y1mhutC7fj8bOUkeIeDLw6NfZzuvm2tVS1OT3z-iBshxzsXySwxTKPvkZBXPZ_06DJeQ7yPA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My darling, someday you will fall in love.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It might be when you're a teenager - fresh-faced, uncynical, the unbruised flower who has just discovered Spring. My heart glows when I imagine that for you. The smiles you secretly share with the mirror, the delight in the every day mundanity. I hope to God that, when I get to watch you grow up, I get to live through your strops with you. That it isn't fair that I've asked you to wash your dishes up or how it should be your turn to use the bathroom - But there's something very twofaced about being in love, baby. There's joy in knowing how they take their tea, so you enjoy making it. There's a rush that comes when you breathe them in, so borrowing their sweatshirts when you've forgotten to do the laundry isn't so bad. I can't wait for that for you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I always thought that love should come with warning signs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Don't stand too close to the edge, it's a fucking long way down. Don't look directly at the sun - by the time you get your vision back, you won't know where you are or how you got there. Don't tie yourself up in them too tightly because you will not be able to get out. If you're going to sup with the devil, use a long, long spoon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But we all hope that our children grow up to be the better versions of ourselves. We hope that the growth we have done as adults is theirs by right, so they don't have to do the same soul-searching, the same tearing themselves apart to see if there is a better way that they can put themselves back together. I hope that you aren't scared of love, that you don't have warning signs. I hope that you don't plan an end-date - that you throw yourself in with glee. I hope that you don't need to jealously guard your space. I hope that you do all of the things that I have never been brave enough to.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When you fall in love, I hope it is the same exhilaration that comes from freewheeling downhill on a bike. Dance outrageously, sing loudly, laugh raucously. Live. Live and live and live.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And when the time comes, I hope you love Love.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Lady Like | Ingrid Andress</i></div></div>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-46359728497564760022022-01-11T07:55:00.003-08:002022-01-11T07:55:24.135-08:0011 ☆ But the world keeps spinning around<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6Yu0Zm1aBqkOa0Jn8j10pnuw_By9AY5a1RcaipSyxq4OgNbcQOvhCnxdtgfNENz3XYa06MR3YXCea-4FQ59V-eM32UPdR_NmUE01Up-RK4LvbSEb7VI0x24a4y12g0KNk7xWMcGiKPgRi3rF6bCAT6XGNFOrddyTUQnMWzJ4vmRiKIRfXP6too4HO=s4777" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4777" data-original-width="3185" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6Yu0Zm1aBqkOa0Jn8j10pnuw_By9AY5a1RcaipSyxq4OgNbcQOvhCnxdtgfNENz3XYa06MR3YXCea-4FQ59V-eM32UPdR_NmUE01Up-RK4LvbSEb7VI0x24a4y12g0KNk7xWMcGiKPgRi3rF6bCAT6XGNFOrddyTUQnMWzJ4vmRiKIRfXP6too4HO=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm going to have to double check my Lightroom export settings omg</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4povfmX144"><br /></a></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4povfmX144">High Hopes | Kodaline</a></i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-46541144277885362112022-01-11T07:43:00.008-08:002022-01-11T07:43:59.975-08:0010 ☆ a rebel just for kicks<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFVjHAw6T1fcW-FIwOyTlnw9rfJ7kze2VmRN0_NCb0WB6OZg8KKJ048mSaAjh_OIHw8T4XUg-fd45lMKYF7ijOdWZJkJPkkxItRH0SAphlil2Ksc9MycM80NGzsCwFFkk-bGEFB9BgjCTK7jTSRuhgnl-rUsVUQ1IjSFVxDslO9SwNtMsiEt6x8gJp=s5568" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3712" data-original-width="5568" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFVjHAw6T1fcW-FIwOyTlnw9rfJ7kze2VmRN0_NCb0WB6OZg8KKJ048mSaAjh_OIHw8T4XUg-fd45lMKYF7ijOdWZJkJPkkxItRH0SAphlil2Ksc9MycM80NGzsCwFFkk-bGEFB9BgjCTK7jTSRuhgnl-rUsVUQ1IjSFVxDslO9SwNtMsiEt6x8gJp=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tell me about the dreams you're having - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You said you see me when you sleep.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tell me about the fears you're hiding,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can see them in your eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Your shoulders are heavy,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and your hands are full,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I try to understand you but I</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">never will.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because you don't want help,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">or sleep,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">or time - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You're searching for oblivion in every girl you meet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBkHHoOIIn8">Feel It Still | Portugal. The Man.</a></i></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-46602824608139864042022-01-11T07:35:00.001-08:002022-01-11T07:35:08.372-08:009 ☆ every bit of beating heart that I had<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUMr4BQotPmKydm6KotJPYHKOb__nFI0_915ejrHdH_xAziBiStIC2kkIXsbM6ppyqvuX9NFkitTxLVrvUv-TjSAG6YhFRXKyO4kT30z2UUeDGQW9O4SHbAniHaIDs2LAMCr9kPsMs1lwfl08EF71jsDsRrtXoy3F75_uxq4dazhvaDLfxsOyEr5Hn=s5568" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3712" data-original-width="5568" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUMr4BQotPmKydm6KotJPYHKOb__nFI0_915ejrHdH_xAziBiStIC2kkIXsbM6ppyqvuX9NFkitTxLVrvUv-TjSAG6YhFRXKyO4kT30z2UUeDGQW9O4SHbAniHaIDs2LAMCr9kPsMs1lwfl08EF71jsDsRrtXoy3F75_uxq4dazhvaDLfxsOyEr5Hn=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, so I got <i>cocky. </i>I fell behind <i>so quickly.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVdPh2cBTN0" target="_blank"><i>You're Somebody Else | Flora Cash</i></a></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-9861613454682459442022-01-08T06:09:00.001-08:002022-01-08T06:09:32.176-08:008 ☆ love don't get better than you<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJL7T1mJ2o44jiMO-VBsPAzIvJdxes2UXuIocXoMA0JoqitRgHcNfOsqrUAhyd-1yGJfZQ9_Q9MfwCvRW_yYj-_VCRhjmJv_CcBJOWmfTS6Yi48_Bw-bYb4UD_aQluQfSeUqS4aTn4UNxgm75WJwKF-JUtkc6DTU46p4HA1WugNaVsbevLygJPkTwd=s5568" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3712" data-original-width="5568" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJL7T1mJ2o44jiMO-VBsPAzIvJdxes2UXuIocXoMA0JoqitRgHcNfOsqrUAhyd-1yGJfZQ9_Q9MfwCvRW_yYj-_VCRhjmJv_CcBJOWmfTS6Yi48_Bw-bYb4UD_aQluQfSeUqS4aTn4UNxgm75WJwKF-JUtkc6DTU46p4HA1WugNaVsbevLygJPkTwd=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">let me tell you about a boy who stole me away for a while</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">who made hours pass in moments</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and me smile wider than i have</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in quite a long time</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and for just a little while - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">barely a heartbeat - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we went on holiday at home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">they say everything in moderation,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so in just a week,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we didn't sleep but we laughed like we were kids</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">just kids</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and we could grow up, but in a minute</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we saved up all our almosts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to cash in later</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and now every time we talk</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">it's like we remember all the snapshots</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but we both know</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that some of the tastiest things</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">are so bad for us</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5YlHgqWo3Kt2mF88ubmR62?si=bf0dc7d56c9c4b3a">Sad, Corny Fuck | JP Saxe</a></i></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-24700253061229302172022-01-07T08:57:00.001-08:002022-01-07T08:57:02.779-08:007 ☆ You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqCnVAX1m9lV9fOjCQMR4U4PyjlsFVFOGnAsMCkQ_0UlaFxlf2Y22SksCbVrXjFvZSx6LAQb8NSyPk3z_SYMHC3iPSys-6ES5iKkn0KtaADYvN2l6-aPn8JX4tnJg6CKByppgJ8KSY-9xzZhhOuakmzYAZ6Ge3HqYfgCgDjPSEDFjas9sfq0Gb7e3T=s5289" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3526" data-original-width="5289" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqCnVAX1m9lV9fOjCQMR4U4PyjlsFVFOGnAsMCkQ_0UlaFxlf2Y22SksCbVrXjFvZSx6LAQb8NSyPk3z_SYMHC3iPSys-6ES5iKkn0KtaADYvN2l6-aPn8JX4tnJg6CKByppgJ8KSY-9xzZhhOuakmzYAZ6Ge3HqYfgCgDjPSEDFjas9sfq0Gb7e3T=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I thought this whole "writing every day" thing would get easier every day. It kind of does, it's becoming a habit again. It doesn't feel so embarrassing (and why should it be embarrassing?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it does mean that I have this great picture of Cat xox</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRxrwjOtIag"><i>All Too Well (10 minute version) | Taylor Swift</i></a></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-79681559477623225292022-01-06T09:17:00.003-08:002022-01-06T09:17:26.502-08:006 ☆ I'll burn this house, I mean it<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg51ktXBXo__fx_G2riNbti93wDn20Vo2RC1w8WwUWPX9Dbq1IG0Rpu_SBq3dJmWyjDkCPw_zznCkOu8YBaeywkoNmB9a70hCvgJlBP-LxeWihDHDYpWLwL6ZQeGj2jgitvYkkTFEPuP30sHgfQPH9FzsS9CIeH2Ei9t2Ff7xdEoF0-CNIn9_ecStVq=s5121" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5121" data-original-width="3414" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg51ktXBXo__fx_G2riNbti93wDn20Vo2RC1w8WwUWPX9Dbq1IG0Rpu_SBq3dJmWyjDkCPw_zznCkOu8YBaeywkoNmB9a70hCvgJlBP-LxeWihDHDYpWLwL6ZQeGj2jgitvYkkTFEPuP30sHgfQPH9FzsS9CIeH2Ei9t2Ff7xdEoF0-CNIn9_ecStVq=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm having a "where did that thought go" day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-75313754725224766472022-01-06T09:09:00.003-08:002022-01-06T09:09:57.443-08:005 ☆ you never smoked this much before we met<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDjBid1DSLE0dSrgbV75T2Czje1LoDpCZHxd-Brisxao-Ea5HPkCtSzSY6dWykKdLX-aUpUebNpFFnpZfSQnREhXIk0SZQOxdjxIFDRc-G5pu4erBH8wSiaGuSexJvMpIaV9zspkY61fJmHXlNSy4TRctcApZbjBQTCn9xKWDCvCAcZNysSm61lrML=s4838" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3225" data-original-width="4838" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDjBid1DSLE0dSrgbV75T2Czje1LoDpCZHxd-Brisxao-Ea5HPkCtSzSY6dWykKdLX-aUpUebNpFFnpZfSQnREhXIk0SZQOxdjxIFDRc-G5pu4erBH8wSiaGuSexJvMpIaV9zspkY61fJmHXlNSy4TRctcApZbjBQTCn9xKWDCvCAcZNysSm61lrML=s600" width="600" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not drinking just to forget - It takes the edge of the fear, makes me more forgiving, my smile warmer, my hands more welcoming. It lasts until I go to sleep - And then my room is an ocean and I'm getting tossed in the air. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I stopped drinking and it didn't change me. My hands stopped reaching for a bottle that wasn't there. I stopped drinking until I decided that I could have just one, just one, just two. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not an addict, I'm an artist, I say again and again and again.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILPo-HdvfHA">Falling Asleep At The Wheel | Holly Humberstone</a></i></div></div>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-6580754202051223232022-01-04T07:25:00.004-08:002022-01-04T07:25:40.348-08:004 ☆ would you love me for the hell of it?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixrI-L5nstmjBHQzX16FMeec6fGhsLGU65o3rkwzcyEWkcK959YGjhaZ5ToCLhVVtkj3KLUzaMuxv7aRQuG7qsqQGvuKQ4dJaaAn1-EPOnUSLkiD4SJFreB1Ebw3DOpbXyknIYfNFBkgs28onEN3OCvCvkqVqwVk6Ooa5VLPWBpqtPNhWFEulzTLtX=s5170" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3447" data-original-width="5170" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixrI-L5nstmjBHQzX16FMeec6fGhsLGU65o3rkwzcyEWkcK959YGjhaZ5ToCLhVVtkj3KLUzaMuxv7aRQuG7qsqQGvuKQ4dJaaAn1-EPOnUSLkiD4SJFreB1Ebw3DOpbXyknIYfNFBkgs28onEN3OCvCvkqVqwVk6Ooa5VLPWBpqtPNhWFEulzTLtX=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I drove past your parents’ place the other day. Over the canal, towards the reservoirs, past the fields you’d take photos of from the window. And it made me think (it always makes me think) of all the times I’d pretend you were nowhere nearby. There was no chance, we wouldn’t catch a glance, wouldn’t see each other in the street, or across the gym. There would never be a reason for us to say “hello” again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I didn’t know if it made me feel better. I didn’t know if I was happier missing out on these chunks – Winter’s come around and I wonder, did you wear that Christmas jumper again this year? Did you travel over the border again? Did you kiss someone new again? Was she a redhead again?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It’s funny how it goes – you had every inch of me, and now we’re less than strangers. At least strangers say “hello.”</div><div><br /></div><div><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/77MdvMx9L4ZQuLhhn3o21h?si=65dcc5a427f64d12">If the World Was Ending | JP Saxe</a></i></div></div><p><br /></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-68419931079714175982022-01-03T08:28:00.003-08:002022-01-03T08:28:49.439-08:003 ☆ if we're drinking, then I'm buying<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVuTMtXbun8jiCSRDkDSzJHmP2O6OfQ_GucPDZLw0M5AC1M_nK9n1rY5u57faZHIrfDDG-KWZfiQZTRWQmRTpuFqIxBIMzkt4Pynb24RjCNZz1lRAWsF6xlzJVSAIm7KN6PZRLmrlq-nPODqCqW73_GVSXBUf83eLBi_A61vEdncFXdvNGZ7vKNlNV=s5223" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3482" data-original-width="5223" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVuTMtXbun8jiCSRDkDSzJHmP2O6OfQ_GucPDZLw0M5AC1M_nK9n1rY5u57faZHIrfDDG-KWZfiQZTRWQmRTpuFqIxBIMzkt4Pynb24RjCNZz1lRAWsF6xlzJVSAIm7KN6PZRLmrlq-nPODqCqW73_GVSXBUf83eLBi_A61vEdncFXdvNGZ7vKNlNV=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I like to think of this as a bit of a private spot on the internet to put whichever rubbish I want out there - I don't honestly think anybody will find this, so it's pretty cosy. So I can put out whichever photos I fancy, whichever words feel like they count for something. It's a little piece of me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And on the absolutely mental off chance that you have found this - hi. Nothing on here is about you (probably) but let's just bear in mind that Taylor Swift wrote a ten minute song about a 3 month relationship. It's honestly not that deep. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0mvkwaZMP2gAy2ApQLtZRv?si=464ddb11b64b4ffe">It's a Beautiful Day | Michael Buble</a></i></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-32859705645170695242022-01-03T01:30:00.006-08:002022-01-03T01:30:50.980-08:002 ☆ you're a sky full of stars<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0nWogR25sQ2HREGRF7JqwJ21uwM4Td05FY9G8fqHuZMtpgLiHHWMQDSAInrt-GG6NWs1chnRiRAwonwPeeSu4Wk0mCHUGXbeGoAxj0ppWgtlkO3OqhJqX6lcC2C4XRkkOkOuiPD4F5nl6_rMeEFm64nVUwW9GKb0n3-4teZ3kFwDLje1H2jJrVd-M=s4944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3296" data-original-width="4944" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0nWogR25sQ2HREGRF7JqwJ21uwM4Td05FY9G8fqHuZMtpgLiHHWMQDSAInrt-GG6NWs1chnRiRAwonwPeeSu4Wk0mCHUGXbeGoAxj0ppWgtlkO3OqhJqX6lcC2C4XRkkOkOuiPD4F5nl6_rMeEFm64nVUwW9GKb0n3-4teZ3kFwDLje1H2jJrVd-M=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The latest project to go on the wishlist? Tea making!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPRjCeoBqrI"><i>You're a Sky Full of Stars | Coldplay</i></a></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-81818222270791407002022-01-01T07:40:00.002-08:002022-01-01T07:40:19.459-08:001 ☆ let the walls crack, 'cause it lets the light in<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjIPAxau4DV1SA8Pv3Bl6FfcvqgGzGk3EuJamTWXsL6EU8zplco7I9Nn8SP6QoBBiLjcQucPT7hqkBqs9LX4iLBBH_PlMIZZSRygdQjBitJxzMMxJNCc6BUaunTW1UZBxFD2Okn6YGRO9pkbXXI042Gs5UZh_q_je1IdF2B4pKf0dUCgEnxHn4jX9i=s4878" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3252" data-original-width="4878" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjIPAxau4DV1SA8Pv3Bl6FfcvqgGzGk3EuJamTWXsL6EU8zplco7I9Nn8SP6QoBBiLjcQucPT7hqkBqs9LX4iLBBH_PlMIZZSRygdQjBitJxzMMxJNCc6BUaunTW1UZBxFD2Okn6YGRO9pkbXXI042Gs5UZh_q_je1IdF2B4pKf0dUCgEnxHn4jX9i=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here we go, 2022!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGj9oADcyRs">All I Know So Far | Pink</a></div><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-65389635511231871762021-12-24T07:18:00.002-08:002021-12-24T07:18:21.713-08:00358 ◘ driving myself home<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU_X4dz9FgRXz84_tPpX-DIa0HmkVax1BypLpogFPzQVgvK41_hZbcqDfzwtPv-vNKWi5rDGKXeYnTEFDfWXnsmEbViNnPyKnfkU-aJWrzyshVPjqZuOh8CyZua-akVrJrYJLQM4I7Z082947virmaS0laMSrPhiFAjacEP8C6y5Bi8UYspAL8-1gQ=s3860" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="3860" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU_X4dz9FgRXz84_tPpX-DIa0HmkVax1BypLpogFPzQVgvK41_hZbcqDfzwtPv-vNKWi5rDGKXeYnTEFDfWXnsmEbViNnPyKnfkU-aJWrzyshVPjqZuOh8CyZua-akVrJrYJLQM4I7Z082947virmaS0laMSrPhiFAjacEP8C6y5Bi8UYspAL8-1gQ=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I carry my memories of you</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In a cabin bag stashed in</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The overheard compartments</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And in them are the missed birthdays, the</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Can't have it both ways"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The years that I'll never get back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And when I told you I'd missed you</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You hugged me - I thought</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All my broken pieces would mend.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But it turns out the person who</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Left you to fly</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Is never the person to hold when you cry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I'll talk to you again this Christmas -</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Five minutes of joviality,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Goodwill and cheer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Because we're actors</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and performers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Boxers in corners-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just encores with insecurities.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm twenty five, could be a parent myself</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I'll cry myself to sleep this year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Or drink wine in the bath,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And have the last laugh,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Merry Christmas</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And a Happy New Year!</div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/145X1jCpgUYImOjTq4hDRi?si=466bd3dc1c2a4e4d" target="_blank"><i>Rose Betts | Driving Myself Home</i></a></div><br /><p></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-45672969319261491392021-12-24T07:11:00.003-08:002021-12-24T07:11:21.356-08:00357 ◘ yes i got your letter<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjt178Rrg3jF-3U6_Dgiretl15o6q-G4Hb4BI5ApWcM7TXypWoh1gF96QPiO8sUiRALPKrrcszEWFY0jpxHgEOF9Qlv_0H4aPJqh1uRVgahAqBIqEWg6fjh0SzNA1m3CqLDIG4IvSsryZj03BlrnQNL_WgpCw0KLXcoP1jOlfJjAO3GWP-jgJTTsWV=s5245" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3497" data-original-width="5245" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjt178Rrg3jF-3U6_Dgiretl15o6q-G4Hb4BI5ApWcM7TXypWoh1gF96QPiO8sUiRALPKrrcszEWFY0jpxHgEOF9Qlv_0H4aPJqh1uRVgahAqBIqEWg6fjh0SzNA1m3CqLDIG4IvSsryZj03BlrnQNL_WgpCw0KLXcoP1jOlfJjAO3GWP-jgJTTsWV=w640-h427" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">If we weren't so hell bent on getting to heaven, maybe we'd be sleeping now. Hands touching, because that has always felt right, two boats tied together at sea. And maybe if you weren't such a graceful dancer, moving through life to music only you hear - maybe if you hadn't reached out for me to join you, maybe if you hadn't spun me under your arm - maybe then we'd have had a different chance.</p><p style="text-align: center;">There are unspoken rules to the game that we're playing. Prices we aren't willing to pay. So touch me, touch me, touch me - but never too much. Nothing that we can't defend. After all, you always need to be able to say "she's just my best friend."</p><p style="text-align: center;">And when you fall asleep in my bed - fully clothed, there are rules - and sleep through the night like a child. When you whisper things in the dark for just the night and me to hear, when you brush my hair out of my face - All of those moments I'll relive and replay, because there's a piece of me missing when you go north and away.</p><p style="text-align: center;">God rolled the dice when she gave you to me, and she added such an awful twist. From the second I met you, you've been my "almost." You're all of the chances I missed. So you'll stay my best friend, my 6am hot chocolates, my running-around-Cardiff-in-spring. We're rule benders, not breakers, and that's perfectly fine by me.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIFnKqIeEdY" target="_blank">Taylor Swift | Closure</a></i></p>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-16624482882994032422021-12-21T03:58:00.005-08:002022-01-04T07:29:07.846-08:00355 ◘ now or never, do or die.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUM3Z1BH5UaVGYvA6V30BIuTr-9snJB2My00WpouTWnWTWzJUib-1ygxaXFUV3UeOTARekcsWHynuASPOjyp0NU771FYdBcRWPQVZe-2m7a-DfjO-rKwtKWOgyYy-vD7ynzf8k4iK1dMDYZ6w6unGkhshC55VcSdQtG0HLWDmms_UpRp_fsHvoOEKo=s5000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="5000" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUM3Z1BH5UaVGYvA6V30BIuTr-9snJB2My00WpouTWnWTWzJUib-1ygxaXFUV3UeOTARekcsWHynuASPOjyp0NU771FYdBcRWPQVZe-2m7a-DfjO-rKwtKWOgyYy-vD7ynzf8k4iK1dMDYZ6w6unGkhshC55VcSdQtG0HLWDmms_UpRp_fsHvoOEKo=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our love story was always a love story. We were never anything else. None of this “will they? Won’t they?” We would. We always would. Because when you put your arm around my shoulders on that very first day, kissed my forehead and said “that’s us, now” – that was it. We were an us. We were a team. I fell in love with you so fast and so hard that I can’t remember not loving you. Maybe there was a point when I didn’t find your chipped front tooth adorable, the brown of your eyes as bottomless, but I don’t remember it. I just remember glowing with pride every time you did anything. You could fucking breath and I would be telling the entire world “See him? That’s my person.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And we were lucky. Not many people can travel that much of the world together before they’re clear of their early twenties. Chasing you down to the sea in Italy, leaping from the balcony in Casablanca, dancing in a shower of sweet orange petals in Nice. I keep all of those treasured memories in little glass jars full of foreign currency in my room – sometimes I get them out and hold them up to the light, so I can relive learning to surf with you in Gibraltar and getting lost in the Swiss alps. You picked gentians and said they were the same colour as my eyes, and I laughed. I was endlessly, endlessly dancing and laughing with you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And we were lucky, because our love story was a love story right up until the moment when we kissed each other goodbye. It didn’t end because we stopped loving each other - It ended because we had grown up, and we hadn’t grown together. We weren’t two small-time athletes anymore. We couldn’t be held together with boarding passes and physio tape. We were big people, with big dreams and big hearts and a huge, huge love. I kissed you goodbye, and you said that you would never find another person who would fill my shoes. I hope you know that I have never even tried. There are no eyes as kind, no minds as open. And I hope that, when the city sings you to sleep, sometimes you think about me.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6FJq2y1gosAGDaamKsmcEa?si=27564a4ee7664396" target="_blank">Rachel Sandy | Favourite Liar</a></div></div>tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-63524272551775413292020-02-23T13:36:00.004-08:002020-02-23T13:36:59.592-08:0054 | you got hips like Jagger and two left feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRfyIj1XQvzgq6s3CltAEgWOGn4s901r_U_llsuGB9ncNkmoq7W43daXoqIVgInhD42iGIP5QFTEAnXI1yIKNx7xM7NfVre3-1toeieYePYNKTVVx7w1Avnfd_0Dq9zUH5jIsLXQUwl8/s1600/untitled-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRfyIj1XQvzgq6s3CltAEgWOGn4s901r_U_llsuGB9ncNkmoq7W43daXoqIVgInhD42iGIP5QFTEAnXI1yIKNx7xM7NfVre3-1toeieYePYNKTVVx7w1Avnfd_0Dq9zUH5jIsLXQUwl8/s640/untitled-10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was tossing this one around because the question is, when is too many dog photos <i>too many</i> dog photos, right? I don't think we're there yet. My instagram is filled with mega fit individuals that I scroll past really fast (it's a bit like the five second rule. If I don't see too much of them then they can't guit me and it's fine) and a sizeable portion of other people's dogs. I like those posts, because I like to see what these dogs are up to.</div>
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(They aren't as cute as mine, though.)</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONS51QzCh1Y" target="_blank">Halsey | Finally // beautiful stranger</a></div>
tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-68817333847502006602020-02-22T13:26:00.000-08:002020-02-22T13:26:11.357-08:0053 | kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbMN1z1UNYnuxPslA7AU77G9G0PwABEfwZKZf_JiiBGQNx7lRt2FZ7gztLy7wjuuk8XNd9M02knIPQgGh5FUN-W4uj-jl_-pAhY_RTPFBOGoi6xJbCMy4zD2APr1Z2JwQUuyh0oRXATg/s1600/untitled-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbMN1z1UNYnuxPslA7AU77G9G0PwABEfwZKZf_JiiBGQNx7lRt2FZ7gztLy7wjuuk8XNd9M02knIPQgGh5FUN-W4uj-jl_-pAhY_RTPFBOGoi6xJbCMy4zD2APr1Z2JwQUuyh0oRXATg/s640/untitled-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It's been a busy few years.</div>
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But true to form, I thought we could just pick up where we left off? A couple of dog pictures and cracks about being disorganised? It's been a busy few years - I never claimed that they'd been transformative. I'll catch you up at some stage!</div>
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Anyway - formal introductions. Everybody, Rufus. Rufus, everybody. He's a Yorkie/Bichon which means that he has the self-preservation of a walnut and the temperament of a sunflower. If there's a height, it's for jumping off. A puddle is for jumping in, something brightly coloured is <i>probably </i>edible until proven otherwise, and if something broke then it definitely wasn't him but he'll have disappeared in the other direction (just in case.) Hobbies include tormenting the cat and chasing tails. All tails. Anyone's. He's not fussy.</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTx5NB_-3to&list=RDnVvNnzfVuGs&index=3" target="_blank">Harry Styles | Sunflower, Vol. 6 </a></div>
<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-42322580050006257642016-12-27T11:18:00.001-08:002016-12-27T11:18:15.445-08:00362 : try<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPXTJz8_q2Y6WomQQKtzqgrpLud5PPXyEKHjr1XeoVrBtdyzqIPsm1f-gO-7huyaNdhnOjfHPfFXVy18m0R0jVMaYSl4IfUKXBmnIS4Sonh0jVEp6J0diCf53nWYdRJQIg0stciD898oA/s1600/IMG_5244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPXTJz8_q2Y6WomQQKtzqgrpLud5PPXyEKHjr1XeoVrBtdyzqIPsm1f-gO-7huyaNdhnOjfHPfFXVy18m0R0jVMaYSl4IfUKXBmnIS4Sonh0jVEp6J0diCf53nWYdRJQIg0stciD898oA/s640/IMG_5244.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Try.</div>
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Try and leave your fingermarks on my heart,</div>
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and not just my neck.</div>
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Try and leave bruises on my soul.</div>
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Admire, if you will,</div>
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the tiger-stripes you left on my arms,</div>
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the leopard spots on my thighs.</div>
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Try.</div>
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Call me darling.</div>
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Rest your lips against my jawline,</div>
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and tell me that I am beautiful.</div>
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Try and get under my skin with words;</div>
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words that you use like stroking hands,</div>
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like gunshots.</div>
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Try;</div>
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Break my heart. </div>
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Try;</div>
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Break my spirit.</div>
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Try;</div>
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You think you can dominate me.</div>
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Try,</div>
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because better men than you,</div>
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have left poison in my blood,</div>
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and I have survived every single one of them. </div>
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Try,</div>
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because what makes you think that I </div>
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won't survive you, too?</div>
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<i>- The games you play are sick, </i></div>
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<i>but I know the rules.</i></div>
tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-18204988116501766562016-12-18T12:24:00.004-08:002016-12-18T12:24:42.856-08:00353 : woke up an optimist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyB5AM664zuj1ixgR_NXCLTYtBRIML_aC6K4dZ9Nh2Xpdpnd5r5cise_yUzXf2d_Nzo6stIzvZq8nfZIm_c2pZAa_373AgfivGrDyYFL3jU1gV1Tc7i9fCuZ9_IHmcjhJOrTPKSXReGj4/s1600/Bruce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyB5AM664zuj1ixgR_NXCLTYtBRIML_aC6K4dZ9Nh2Xpdpnd5r5cise_yUzXf2d_Nzo6stIzvZq8nfZIm_c2pZAa_373AgfivGrDyYFL3jU1gV1Tc7i9fCuZ9_IHmcjhJOrTPKSXReGj4/s640/Bruce.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
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I've never had my own Christmas tree before. I'm very proud of Bruce the Blue Spruce.</div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1M-lLtJaSQ">James Bay/FourFiveSeconds</a></i></div>
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<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-2593064398610917902016-12-17T05:30:00.003-08:002016-12-17T05:30:34.955-08:00352 : i wouldn't let you complete me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKv9t8QpMj74g9yTHm-fxTNTgyshAsbzAJtfs59-PMXJFVDWHBLUHMOyv0gZzbJ-iqNvx9Cm7PbomHC2YAcdoc3abVGov7K7qOR8l20yWwKul97gpL4gzgqudN8_l4mYqsPYbkvGjzFAI/s1600/DSC_4853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKv9t8QpMj74g9yTHm-fxTNTgyshAsbzAJtfs59-PMXJFVDWHBLUHMOyv0gZzbJ-iqNvx9Cm7PbomHC2YAcdoc3abVGov7K7qOR8l20yWwKul97gpL4gzgqudN8_l4mYqsPYbkvGjzFAI/s640/DSC_4853.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Update on the Christmas Cake: It's winging it's way across the country, and I got a bottle of wine and a Christmas card for my help. So that was an absolute success <i>after </i>we had fished the address <i>out </i>of this very well-packaged box. </div>
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Meanwhile on "Tash Posts Stuff" I'm about to ship a top off to the Republic of Moldova. I genuinely had no idea that that was even a place. But hey, we're going international!</div>
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I'm kind of stressed out of my mind right now. I didn't even realise I could get this stressed. But apparently I <i>can </i>so I'm going to book a holiday. Venice, anyone?</div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=686SmDtBOu8">Halsey/Is There Somewhere</a></i></div>
<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-11900741330431531522016-12-16T07:49:00.003-08:002016-12-16T07:49:45.591-08:00351 : hold on, it's a marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsf0-E0rm2_nJJ8heqTvOxRWkfOvOGNbsqSc5KOlWwOLIxzp7SIexROY-DPqCXElNETE45JToVmckmlIIr-WmuNApudKihwDPgMBTnCgEVCnaPZpQ6eTEiwj6qDlTmjUgaqT2U-eaCKLQ/s1600/DSC_4867-Recovered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsf0-E0rm2_nJJ8heqTvOxRWkfOvOGNbsqSc5KOlWwOLIxzp7SIexROY-DPqCXElNETE45JToVmckmlIIr-WmuNApudKihwDPgMBTnCgEVCnaPZpQ6eTEiwj6qDlTmjUgaqT2U-eaCKLQ/s640/DSC_4867-Recovered.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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You know Christmas is well and truly on it's way when a friend stops by with a 4kg Christmas Cake and goes "Can you help me post this?"</div>
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We basically emptied out two of my boxes of stock to find one that this monster cake would fit in. Having done that, we got kind of worried that it would slide around? Bad idea for a cake. I'm sure sliding is frowned upon. So packing peanuts were gleefully thrown around, and duct tape was liberally applied - and now I have a cake but we forgot to address the parcel. So the rest of this baking shenanigan is on hold until tomorrow.</div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QO4g5zC3xU">Emeli Sandé/Hurts</a></i></div>
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<i>(have I mentioned my deep and abiding love for this song?)</i></div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QO4g5zC3xU"><br /></a></i></div>
<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-46463716797696219482016-12-15T13:46:00.000-08:002016-12-15T13:46:02.689-08:00350 : can't make fire, only smoke<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzqge42TvySma1kBlr_TxCyZnZvx-9UTg_TTb7g1xmgHQx7S_L-IQCzkzb-oIxbTSAsGg_ZHWCwCAXTgvco4Li3R3EoAsRUvwJS6yoVmLR4nXnL5CLbX6nZNjW_jtjPtFHe7PDZX05tU/s1600/176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzqge42TvySma1kBlr_TxCyZnZvx-9UTg_TTb7g1xmgHQx7S_L-IQCzkzb-oIxbTSAsGg_ZHWCwCAXTgvco4Li3R3EoAsRUvwJS6yoVmLR4nXnL5CLbX6nZNjW_jtjPtFHe7PDZX05tU/s640/176.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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part of the issue was that you kissed me with such familiarity.</div>
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you kissed me, leaning over the breakfast table and stealing my toast at the same time. you kissed me when we were curled up on the sofa and you tasted of wine and laughter. you kissed me after that run and there was sweat in my eyes and your hands in my hair. you became a habit. you were my absolute favourite bad habit.</div>
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it turns out that i’m not very good at breaking bad habits. i’m not very good at all.</div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLP8HPdCOQg">James Blunt/Smoke Signals</a></i></div>
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<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160042928716138104.post-71759402252958818252016-12-12T05:01:00.002-08:002016-12-12T07:39:52.905-08:00 347 : bang bang, two shots fired<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqfVPpdRY4M8jfQhlrjssUmyJBz-xVlBRqNpiUG6Gx4kZ2Wmjbsuhklp9kVtvBF6zkpTjvphpTI1thptq91o8ezuQVe5zhfI0o952mWAr50D6ipkUg39Lb2xROugAdrAnXDiSwMkslrU/s1600/180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqfVPpdRY4M8jfQhlrjssUmyJBz-xVlBRqNpiUG6Gx4kZ2Wmjbsuhklp9kVtvBF6zkpTjvphpTI1thptq91o8ezuQVe5zhfI0o952mWAr50D6ipkUg39Lb2xROugAdrAnXDiSwMkslrU/s640/180.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I don’t know if I believe in guardian angels or not, but if they are up there – </div>
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if there’s someone keeping watch – </div>
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then I bet she’s got a black eye, </div>
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a bloody lip and a broken halo, </div>
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and she claims she had an “accident on court.” </div>
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Seven year old me,</div>
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She’d have told my sixteen year old self to leave.</div>
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It’s not that the rules were simpler then, </div>
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or any more black and white,</div>
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but I guess I never learnt which fights to pick.</div>
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Seven year old me would have told me to be brave,</div>
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I think she was a damn sight more intelligent than I’ve ever been.</div>
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Because it was obvious, wasn't it?</div>
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That those lips of yours were liars. </div>
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It wasn’t in what you did or did not say.</div>
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Or in how you kissed me.</div>
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It was the smile that lit up my life,</div>
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when really you had come to burn my cities down.</div>
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It took me four years to speak up.</div>
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That’s four Christmases,</div>
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Eight birthdays.</div>
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Our love was a bar fight and the alcohol slurred my words.</div>
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You were a bottle of Stella smashed over my head -</div>
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I was the drinking problem,</div>
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that made your hands shake, </div>
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and that you tried to drown.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Twenty year old me,</div>
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She would tell my seven year old self that you can't love anybody</div>
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if you won't love yourself. </div>
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You can't teach a language,</div>
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that you do not know how to speak.</div>
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You and I,</div>
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we only ever spoke in tongues. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3RXHOTMmLw">Anne Marie/Alarm</a></i></div>
<br />tashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07722092275229196923noreply@blogger.com