"I can't believe how casual the bride's being about everything. When I asked her how she wanted the bridemaids' hairstyles to be, she just said 'let them choose: I just want them to be happy.' Can you believe that? It's totally unacceptable."
-A lady bitching about how her bride-to-be friend is planning her wedding.
Tuesday 31 March 2015
Saturday 21 March 2015
Born to Dunce
My status update from Facebook, Friday 20th March 2015 (yesterday night):
Dramatically tripped over my own feet in the car park this evening (after dance class, no less). A lady walked pass and, clearly convinced that I was drunk and about to drive legless, tutted and gave me the evils. Nope, not drunk, lady- I just have a constantly faulty internal gyroscope.
Dramatically tripped over my own feet in the car park this evening (after dance class, no less). A lady walked pass and, clearly convinced that I was drunk and about to drive legless, tutted and gave me the evils. Nope, not drunk, lady- I just have a constantly faulty internal gyroscope.
Sunday 15 March 2015
Forever Alone
It was the kind of occasion where somewhere, deep down, you know heard other person correctly: but it was just so damned weird that you didn't believe your own ears.
"Sorry, what?" I asked the barista.
"I said, 'do you dance like black women?'" he said, quirking a suggestive eyebrow at me.
My problem is that I'm immune to flirting, which has two main downsides. If a nice guy flirts with me, I only see it as "banter" and banter right back, but not in the right way- causing the nice guy to "take the hint" (that wasn't even there because I was so clueless) and give up, and me to kick myself about five hours later when I realise I was being flirted with. That's the first downside. The second downside is that a not-so-nice guy will take it too far, and I won't realise what's happening until it gets to that point- resulting in time being wasted and me being marginally ticked off.
I walked into the coffee shop this morning and asked for a flat white.
"Alright," he said. "But I gotta warn ya... it's either going to be in this cup, or this one." He indicated to a large cup and an espresso shot cup.
"Uh, aren't flat whites just regular? I'm pretty sure you don't shoot one, either" I grinned, assuming he was just trying to be funny.
"Just kidding, large it is. Wait, what did you order? Oh, a flat white. That'd be regular then."
I smiled and handed the change over, while the barista got to work.
"You look kind of stressed, you having a bad day?"
I blinked. (Here we go, I thought, we have a conversation artist... alright, just be polite, Tash). "No..? I'm quite happy, actually."
"It's just that you look sort of tired."
(Wait a minute, I thought, is he trying to 'neg'* me??)
"Then I've come to the right place," I laughed, brushing it off.
"So, do you work around here?"
"Oh... no. Just passing through the area."
"Don't you have work today?" He asked.
"No, no work for me on Sundays. I'm just on my way to dance class."
"Oh, what kind of dance do you do?"
"K-Pop. Korean pop, that is."
And then he said it.
"So do you dance like black women, then?"
Honestly my brain just switched off when I asked him to repeat what he'd just said. It was clear he didn't have a clue what K-pop was (which is fair enough), but that statement literally just came out of the blue. It was a particularly random statement to make– especially since I'm as pale as milk. The worst thing about it was the appraising up-and-down look he was giving me. I pretended not to notice.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Um, it's more street-style?" I added, helpfully.
"Right, right," he said. He then proceeded to hand me my coffee, holding it out of my reach for a few seconds while asking me to try the coffee there and then on the spot. He tried to make me promise that if he'd made a bad coffee he'd make me another one for free.
I made a wild grab at the hovering coffee cup. "I'm sure it'll be fine, thank you!" I more or less ran off.
The coffee was terrible: I threw it away. I didn't go back.
*Negging: the practice of giving someone a very mild insult while acting friendly, sometimes in the hope that they'll subconsciously want your approval.
"Sorry, what?" I asked the barista.
"I said, 'do you dance like black women?'" he said, quirking a suggestive eyebrow at me.
My problem is that I'm immune to flirting, which has two main downsides. If a nice guy flirts with me, I only see it as "banter" and banter right back, but not in the right way- causing the nice guy to "take the hint" (that wasn't even there because I was so clueless) and give up, and me to kick myself about five hours later when I realise I was being flirted with. That's the first downside. The second downside is that a not-so-nice guy will take it too far, and I won't realise what's happening until it gets to that point- resulting in time being wasted and me being marginally ticked off.
I walked into the coffee shop this morning and asked for a flat white.
"Alright," he said. "But I gotta warn ya... it's either going to be in this cup, or this one." He indicated to a large cup and an espresso shot cup.
"Uh, aren't flat whites just regular? I'm pretty sure you don't shoot one, either" I grinned, assuming he was just trying to be funny.
"Just kidding, large it is. Wait, what did you order? Oh, a flat white. That'd be regular then."
I smiled and handed the change over, while the barista got to work.
"You look kind of stressed, you having a bad day?"
I blinked. (Here we go, I thought, we have a conversation artist... alright, just be polite, Tash). "No..? I'm quite happy, actually."
"It's just that you look sort of tired."
(Wait a minute, I thought, is he trying to 'neg'* me??)
"Then I've come to the right place," I laughed, brushing it off.
"So, do you work around here?"
"Oh... no. Just passing through the area."
"Don't you have work today?" He asked.
"No, no work for me on Sundays. I'm just on my way to dance class."
"Oh, what kind of dance do you do?"
"K-Pop. Korean pop, that is."
And then he said it.
"So do you dance like black women, then?"
Honestly my brain just switched off when I asked him to repeat what he'd just said. It was clear he didn't have a clue what K-pop was (which is fair enough), but that statement literally just came out of the blue. It was a particularly random statement to make– especially since I'm as pale as milk. The worst thing about it was the appraising up-and-down look he was giving me. I pretended not to notice.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Um, it's more street-style?" I added, helpfully.
"Right, right," he said. He then proceeded to hand me my coffee, holding it out of my reach for a few seconds while asking me to try the coffee there and then on the spot. He tried to make me promise that if he'd made a bad coffee he'd make me another one for free.
I made a wild grab at the hovering coffee cup. "I'm sure it'll be fine, thank you!" I more or less ran off.
The coffee was terrible: I threw it away. I didn't go back.
*Negging: the practice of giving someone a very mild insult while acting friendly, sometimes in the hope that they'll subconsciously want your approval.
Wednesday 11 March 2015
London Mode: Engaged
I returned to Reykjavik last Thursday. Alas, I still didn't see any Northern Lights thanks to the tricksy Icelandic weather, but I still had a great time on the Golden Circle tour and walking around the beautiful city.
By a stroke of complete luck, an old school friend I haven't seen in nine years happened to also be in Reykjavik, so we met up for lunch one day- myself with my friend Siu Yen and her with her boyfriend. We got to discussing how friendly the people are in Iceland. In fact, Iceland is sometimes also known as "Niceland"! I found myself becoming more open and friendly to strangers in general, as a result: the country made me just a little less guarded.
Fast-forward to being back home in London. This evening on the train, I stared straight past a friend from dance and only noticed her when she physically called my name and ran after me as I walked off. I couldn't stop apologising.
What happened? Well, I call it "London Mode". It's that mode that everyone from a large city finds themselves adopting sooner or later: a sort of self-defence against the endless amount of bodies and noise. I've fought it off for a long time, trying to remain in-tune with my fellow human beings. Alas, it seems that I have unwillingly mentally downloaded London Mode as a default.
A friend told me a story recently about how someone on the London Underground fell over and hit their head (my friend only learned about this after being stuck outside the closed station, waiting to be let in). The poor bastard lay bleeding on the ground for about fifteen minutes before anyone would help them. In fact, there were people stepping over him.
I don't think I'll ever get to that level of London Mode (the level at which you literally just stop caring and become numb to other people). However I think that even if I adopted Icelandic openness in London, I think I'd very quickly be taken advantage of by my brilliant, cruel city. In a city where people are increasingly afraid of making eye contact for fear of being stabbed, I'm afraid that London Mode is a fate every Londoner must adopt sooner or later.
By a stroke of complete luck, an old school friend I haven't seen in nine years happened to also be in Reykjavik, so we met up for lunch one day- myself with my friend Siu Yen and her with her boyfriend. We got to discussing how friendly the people are in Iceland. In fact, Iceland is sometimes also known as "Niceland"! I found myself becoming more open and friendly to strangers in general, as a result: the country made me just a little less guarded.
Fast-forward to being back home in London. This evening on the train, I stared straight past a friend from dance and only noticed her when she physically called my name and ran after me as I walked off. I couldn't stop apologising.
What happened? Well, I call it "London Mode". It's that mode that everyone from a large city finds themselves adopting sooner or later: a sort of self-defence against the endless amount of bodies and noise. I've fought it off for a long time, trying to remain in-tune with my fellow human beings. Alas, it seems that I have unwillingly mentally downloaded London Mode as a default.
A friend told me a story recently about how someone on the London Underground fell over and hit their head (my friend only learned about this after being stuck outside the closed station, waiting to be let in). The poor bastard lay bleeding on the ground for about fifteen minutes before anyone would help them. In fact, there were people stepping over him.
I don't think I'll ever get to that level of London Mode (the level at which you literally just stop caring and become numb to other people). However I think that even if I adopted Icelandic openness in London, I think I'd very quickly be taken advantage of by my brilliant, cruel city. In a city where people are increasingly afraid of making eye contact for fear of being stabbed, I'm afraid that London Mode is a fate every Londoner must adopt sooner or later.
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