Feeling dead smug because I just split my train fare five times but used the “calling at” list of times from National Rail to make sure I’ll always be on the same train and managed to book a journey from Bristol to Durham (300 miles) less than three days in advance for £47.50.
People are probably going to assume that i’m about to say it sucks, but I’m not.
I love it. I like having no money whatsoever. Mr A has paid the bills for this month, and I’ll be working again by the time next month’s come round. But for the time-being, I’m loving finding new things to do that cost no money. I’m loving reusing things I would have thrown away and making something new with them.
I’ve just unraveled a horrid old (HUGE) jumper, along with an old blanket, and I’m reusing the wool as part of my patchwork baby blanket.
I’ve switched to more natural things too. Yesterday I realised I needed carrots, but Mr A was out, so I couldn’t ask for the money, but I thought about the carrots we are growing. So we had baby carrots instead, leaving some to grow full size, and replanting the tops of the baby ones.
I think this lifestyle might be here to stay. Also when I’m working again, think of the money I’ll save by not buying stuff we already have, or expensive stuff we don’t need. I cleaned the shower with a tub of baking soda this morning. Better than any of the chemicals we used to use!
Getting a discount is exciting. Getting a discount on something you really want is even better. Then there are times when you think, “oo that brand is WAY cheaper I’ll buy it”. For some things it is ok, but for others uttering that sentence is something you will live to regret.
Once upon a time I was in Tesco (a supermarket in the UK - horrible) and was going to buy bread. I saw some Tesco brand bread and thought they were a lot cheaper than my usual brand, so trying to save money I bought two loaves. This was a bad decision. After I got home and ate it I realised there was a reason it was a quid cheaper per loaf. It wasn’t the basics version, but it was pretty bad. That day I learnt the important lesson - never scrimp on bread (unless you know it’s cheap AND good).
So here are some things that you should never scrimp on:
1. Toilet Paper. It is just not worth it.
2. Tea. Yes, you could buy the basics / home brand version, but it’ll taste the same as dipping a worn sock in your cup. Same for coffee.
3. Bread. See above.
4. Underwear. You can get pretty good and cheap underwear, but spending that little extra for comfort is worth it.
5. Milk. Yes, the major supermarket’s have just cut the price of milk screwing the farmers even more, but that’s not the issue here. The issue here is skim milk and even worse the ultra skim stuff. Why even both? You know what would be easier? Water + white food dye. You would get the same effect and taste.
6. Meat Pies. I once bought an Action meat pie for 50 cents. It tasted like poverty and I couldn’t finish it. I don’t think there was any meat in it.
Calling other hobbyists “rich” is so gross to me. I absolutely hate it. I am technically in poverty according to tax standards, but I work my ass off, sacrifice other luxuries and treats and scrimp and save for the dolls I do own. It disgusts me that people assume I’m spoilt and gifted everything when in reality I have strong will power, focus and hard work. I bought my dolls with hard earned money in a poorly paying job I hate, not wishes and puppy dog eyes.
I fell in love with you when I was newly 16 years old. It was 2007, and the first year I’d found a way to get to you. My friend and I made plans, and scrimped and saved, and convinced a parent to drive us all the way out to Wheatland, California to see you. It was one of the best days of my life up until that point. You were the reason I started a band. You were the reason I have a platform to write this today, because you lead me to discover the bands that made me want to write.
But that was then, and things change.
There comes a time where actions have to be amplified louder than words. I’ve loved you as much as I’ve ever loved anything, but I think it’s time for us to part ways because you and those who control you have made it clear, time and time again, that you do not love me and those like me – at least, not enough to protect us. Not enough to go to bat for us. I am moved and grateful to those involved with you who have already used their own visibility to speak up against you, and to condemn your actions by allowing predators to grace Warped Tour’s stages, but it isn’t enough. It shouldn’t have happened.
Not all transgressions ought to be forgiven, and not all wounds should be allowed to heal – not while the thing that caused them is pushed under the rug and considered acceptable. There are mistakes, and then there is negligence. Cruelty. I cannot continue to support a culture that intentionally mistakes one for the other.
So I think I have to end things with you, Warped Tour, and this is why: Because a man’s career is not worth more than the safety of every young woman that walks into the venue. Because consequences have to be lasting in order to matter, and examples have to be made. Because predators do not stop to think about “fair” when victimizing underage girls. Because misogyny has to be considered UNACCEPTABLE before there is any hope of change. Because silence is deafening, and because my heart aches for the young women who will hear that silence and think that what these musicians – their idols – have done is okay. Because we live in a climate where the words of a man still carry more weight than the words of the women who this abuse actually happens to. Because women are so drastically underrepresented on your stages, yet there is still somehow room for predators on your lineup. Because by letting FPS and those like him to continue as though nothing has happened, you are telling them all that it is okay. Because through all of this, you have told me that I and others like me don’t matter as much as he and others like him. Because that is unacceptable.
You are supposed to be a refuge for the outcasts, not to support their subjugation. You aren’t what I thought you were or maybe I’m just seeing you for what you always were. As it stands, I am heartbroken. I want to believe you’ll change, that you’ll learn from this. Maybe someday, when you treat women you don’t have personal connections to with the same respect you blanket afford to men, we can come together again. Until then, it’s all lip service. Until then, this is goodbye - I guess this is growing up.
i hate those posts that are like ‘rich kids of bandom get to go to all the tour dates’ like nah most of us aren’t rich. we’re usually college/uni students who are constantly scrimping and trying to make ends meet and when we manage to save it’s put aside for gigs so we can fuckin enjoy ourselves and have a break from constantly being stressed out. stop trying to make ppl feel guilty for enjoying themselves
“i don’t think i can do this anymore,” jimin says and jungkook’s heart thuds in his chest. no. they’re standing at an impasse in their kitchen, illuminated by one harsh fluorescent light. “i can handle dirty dishes and having to scrimp by and everything that comes with this.” he sweeps a hand around their tiny apartment. “but that was because i thought you’d be there with me.”
“i am here with you,” jungkook says a little desperately.
jimin laughs, voice hollow. “you haven’t even looked at me in three months.”
jungkook has no excuse for that. he hasn’t been able to meet jimin’s eyes in so long. they’d been full of dreams and hopes but reality had caught up in the form of expenses and responsibilities and consequences.
“i’m sorry,” jungkook says and he steps forward. jimin flinches a little away. “i’m sorry.” he wraps his arms around the tiny form and jimin sags in his hold. “i’m sorry. but i still love you. and i still want this to work.”
“i love you too,” jimin whispers because as much as he tries to deny it, it’s the truth, and he lets jungkook tug him into their bedroom and jimin curls up with jungkook again for the first time in so many nights of sleeping with their backs to each other.
This is standard party fare in my family. My dad LOVES to throw a lowcountry– he does it at least yearly, and would more often if he had occasion. His recipe is a little different than this: Corn, red potatoes, sausage, onions, mushrooms (his secret ingredient, which get CRAZY spicy), and shrimps (which we call scrimps), all boiled together with a lot of salt and LIQUID Zatarains.
Seriously, he has this party as often as he can. Here is a picture of the fixins, pre-cooked, from an “engagement party” he threw me (any excuse to have a low country), featuring local north carolina shrimps 2 years ago:
Here, my siblings + maddie eat leftovers following the 2009 party (they were so young!):
well, this picture doesn’t show the boil, but it’s from the 2008 party and just shows the weird stuff we put out at the party so we wouldn’t have to pack it up when we went home:
annnnnnd my dad’s 50th birthday (making a 2008 double header), in which you can see my brother pulling out the dead crawfish (you can only eat them, like a lobster, if you cook them while they’re alive) (the crawfish kept escaping and making a break for the pool, which is salinated and quite pleasant for them)
And this is just what I have on my facebook! seriously, this is a real southern tradition and it’s delicious.