You guys, I’m so tired. I’m struggling to put this post together. I can mostly handle design, but anything that involves thinking is making me exhausted. But I’m trying! Because this is a side effect, and it will go away eventually, and it was worse yesterday anyway and at least today I got some food in me. But first things first:
Instagram: London Scenery
To the best of my memory:
Rosslyn Hill / Foyles on Charing Cross Road (taken last month) / Rosslyn Hill
Belsize Park Gardens / Belsize Grove / Belsize Grove
Belsize Grove / Belsize Park Gardens / Eton Avenue
South End Road / Belsize Park Gardens / Belsize Park Gardens
This could have been a nice Belsize Park + Hampstead collage but then I wouldn’t have been able to share the Foyles picture I posted this week, and it’s one of my favorites. So there’s an outlier. I linked the ones with halfway substantial commentary. I’d love to write more about all my pictures, but some I have nothing to say about and some I just can’t be bothered to type on my phone for.
I live in a really pretty place, even if they insist on putting up signs with Comic Sans in it. And the anti-Tesco promo may not use an affront of a font, but the design is still — well, if Tesco brings down the neighborhood, so do those ugly signs. You can do better, Belsize Park. You’re supposed to be posh, goddammit.
Instagram: #WearYourDamnJewelry + Life
Bobby pins from Starlight Woods (buy) / Necklace from Resity (OOAK; love this similar one in green) / Hampstead Group Practice
Ring from The Two Wicked Magpies / Wednesday In Marylebone / Friday at Starbucks (post)
Asics trainers c/o Sports Shoes (post) / Necklace from finntastic2006 / Candy hamper c/o Toxic Fox (now a jewelry box)
Snowflake earrings from Bonita Bellita (here + parcel pic!) / Cowl from delectare (I designed her banner!) / Makeup by Steph Lai
Cardigan in #8 and #10 c/o Blue Vanilla via etailPR
I haven’t been as much of a stickler for daily jewelry-wearing as I was at first, but I’ve mostly done things to make up for it, and on one occasion wore a cowl (more things I never wear: my knit accessories that I love) instead. I actually airbrushed out my acne in the cowl picture. I look at it on Instagram and cringe a bit, but whatever, I made the choice, I’m leaving it. That’s been the hardest part of this project for me. I never wear makeup and in fact I feel uncomfortable and unfocused with it on, so I have to find ways around it and play with angles and when all else fails, deal. I’ve posted more imperfect pictures on twitter. I’m just pickier with Insta and blog photos.
I actually had to take pictures of the bobby pins with my Canon — yep, that is a Canon picture in a midst of LG G3 ones — because my phone camera washed them out. On the bright side, my hands didn’t fall off. On the down side, I took some more at Starbucks because I wasn’t convinced and this woman across from me kept giving me weird looks because I kept taking pictures because they all sucked and I felt very self-conscious. The dark side of Instagram.
The picture with makeup on is from last Friday and the Sun article I talked about here. I got my hair and makeup done by a professional, and then I was shot by a professional, and in between I took outfit photos and photos of a couple of pieces I still owed Pixiebell and basically an astounding number of selfies. I tried to repeat this on Friday, but I fell asleep. Anyway, yesterday I got an email from the article writer saying she couldn’t find it in the paper when it was supposed to go out, so I may not get paid for it, which is a bummer. I got more out of it than I put into it, but I could really use the cash.
Honestly, I’m weirdly focused on blogging and writing as sources of income at the moment because this week I took the plunge and raised the prices on my design portfolio by about 5x plus developer’s fees. (If we’ve talked about a project before, and you haven’t decided yet but can’t afford the new rates, don’t worry — I’ll honor the price I gave you.) Those prices now match those on some of my favorite (and less favorite — people I feel on par with) designers, and it would now take one client a month for me to survive. But I have no clue how to find those clients, or get them to find me.
I opened accounts on Behance and Cargo Collective; I need to fill them out. I updated my LinkedIn. I haven’t touched my CV, but I managed the copy for my media kit, so surely I can do it. Somehow. Some way.
The day before my agency gig that got put on hold, I tweeted, “If tomorrow goes well, I’m making a GP appointment to get back on antidepressants.” I held myself to that — actually took a while to make the decision, and by the time I made the appointment, things had gone awry. (For a not-all-that-terrible-but-hard-on-me meaning of the word.) Over the following few days, the past few weeks, I found myself needing lorazepam every single day, even the days I tried hard not to take it. Thursday and Friday this week, I was feeling better, but I knew that was all the more reason to get back on meds now — when things are bad, I just let them get worse.
Of course, I went to sleep at 4 AM the day before (I’ve been doing better at falling asleep, but not on Wednesday and therefore not on Thursday), woke up at 9, pushed the snooze button about five times… and woke up two minutes before my appointment. Back when I lived literally two minutes up the road from the practice (reason #1 I picked it), I would have managed to run there, but I knew running the fifteen-twenty minutes from Belsize Park without showering and getting something nutritive in me would kill me, so I skipped. I explained my inability to send text messages to cancel to my GP the day after, who obviously thought it was fucking weird that I have a phone I can only receive calls and texts on because it’s registered to a PR instead of me, but understood. It is weird, Dr. Patel. I know it’s weird.
So yeah, I actually checked after I missed the appointment, and miracle of miracles, someone had cancelled an appointment the next day at 11 AM. Knowing me and the way I excel at chickening out of seeking medical help when time gets in the way, I grabbed it, and I was a little late to it — about nine minutes — but I bundled up, wore leg warmers to warm my legs — never had occurred to me before, honest — and got there.
I am now on sertraline. The GP looked at the previous GP’s prescription of mirtazapine and was definitely gunning for it, but I explained my concerns and then I mentioned that not only do I have trouble getting to sleep, I have trouble getting up, to the point that up until two weeks ago I’d been getting up at 5 PM every day, and she decided on sertraline instead.
Well, holy crap with the drowsiness. I feel a little more awake today, but I’m still too tired to do anything that requires thinking, or words, or thinking. I finished a media kit draft and a blog design mockup yesterday, so I’m not too scared it will ruin me, but it was amazing. I crashed at 8 PM without eating. I had some fruit this morning before showering because I would have fainted otherwise.
My GP also referred me for counseling, which no one said anything about last summer. She thought I’d rather have CBT, partly because they’d get that going more quickly than the 6-8 weeks for counseling, but I’ve got that sneaky aversion to ‘choose to be happy’ rhetorics (even if that’s not that CBT is) and I wasn’t expecting anything anyway, so I’d much rather wait for something I’ve always thought would help me and never got to try.
From the above — I knew going anywhere without eating first would kill me because it nearly did on Wednesday last week, when I rushed to Marylebone without breakfast for a hair consultation at a salon I’ll be modeling a dye and cut for next week (unless that also falls through. You never know). It was rainy and miserable, and I tried to find a Starbucks I liked in the area but the two I walked by sucked, and then I just took a bus back to my Starbucks.
Really, for an evil corporate chain everyone here is incredibly nice. The toilet was out of order that day and I was freezing and they let me use their sink to warm my Raynaud’sed-out hands. I’ve been coming here every day because it’s good for my mental health to spend £60 a month on lattes, shut up, and I know most of the baristas by name. The other day, some dude started screaming and throwing the displays and freaked a ten, twelve-year-old girl out who was, I think, waiting for her drink (the Starbucks is split down the middle by a wall, so I didn’t see anything) and made her cry, and the baristas gave her hot chocolate and a gift card and kept checking that she was all right. I kept thinking I should do something, but you know I suck at people, so I just sat around and felt bad.
I had high hopes of editing some photos from the time I went to the delivery office in summer and photographed the whole walk in various waiting rooms yesterday, but I didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes at the practice and the hospital pharmacy I thought I’d have to wait at was closed, so I killed my shoulder with my laptop for no reason. And boy, did I kill it: I had to pick up a GHD parcel from Best British Bloggers at the delivery office in Hampstead too (hence the motivation to edit those pictures from summer), so it was quite a lot of walking. Later that day, when all the drowsiness was high, I bee-hopped around picture folders and edited two pics from a walk from Hampstead Heath to South Hampstead, and they are so fucking magical I may try and get a Fairytale of Belsize Park post going. It’s not like I wouldn’t have to split up the pictures anyway. It’s a rare photo walk I come back from with less than seventy pictures for keeps.
Dear god, I did not set out to write a post this long. My bad! How was your week?