Category Archives: Manchester

Tissues and tampax: #TheStruggleIsReal – but never hurt anyone

North West in a power struggle with mum Kim Kardashian. I throw these tantrums all the time too but I'm too big to be picked up so they exist in my head. Source: Instagram

North West in a power struggle with mum Kim Kardashian. I throw these tantrums all the time but I’m too big to be picked up so they exist in my head. Source: Instagram

When people say, “The struggle is real,” I do wonder how real their struggle is and find it funny that along with myself, nobody really shares their struggle.

Superficial ones, yes, but unlike the champagne lifestyle, lemonade money fraudsters, I don’t feel that admitting to being ‘financially challenged’ – this is my replacement phrase for ‘broke’ – is embarrassing, because I know when I reach that place of success, my backstory will be invaluable.

But let me give you a snapshot: today with the £1.94 in my purse, I had to forfeit a pack of digestive biscuits for sanitary towels – thank God you can find them for less than a pound. For that moment stood glancing left to right at the packs of Bodyform, Wilko own brand and the unaffordable Tampax, I resented my monthly cycle. And the fact that I didn’t put the coppers in my purse because I could have made that up to a round £2.

What made me contemplate sharing this is a friend who just vindicated me by admitting she was once chose tissue over sanitary towels because she couldn’t afford the latter. This confession completely changed my face, for one, I found that hilarious, but compelled me to retell the story and show people that they’re not alone. Let our struggle, be your freedom, especially since I haven’t finished yet…

I then, after just buying the sanitary towels, had to make a choice later on between milk from Tesco and UHT milk from Poundland (but skimmed, not semi, there’s around a 5p difference, if I remember rightly). As I’d already picked up a flapjack for 29p, I had to sneakily use my calculator just to make sure I had enough to buy the milk too before I got to the till. (Air high-five if you do this too). 

Some people might be wondering why on earth I’m airing this on my blog but I have no intention of editing it like I do everything else in my life to avoid embarrassment, it stays how it is because this is how it is. At least this week. So when you say your struggle is real, think of me who ate slices of cucumber and garlic tea for breakfast this morning and lasted the whole day, I don’t know how, and who’s restricted to one piece of protein per day until her bank says otherwise.

Of course, I could call home and I’d be sent money but where’s the lesson in that? Or even the entertainment.

After a while the hunger pangs go away, tea does great at tricking your stomach, and when you’ve been glued to your laptop for as long as I have, they go anyway. Plus I have carbs here so life isn’t that bad.

Hopefully you’ve had a giggle, feel better about your own life or can smile in solidarity at my        ‘stru-ggle,’ but more importantly, the universe loves a hustler so keep on it, whatever your journey. Peace.

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Two months in Manchester and still no friends – a snapshot of being in a new city

When moving away from home, a huge expectation tags along with the experience that it’s going to be life changing.

Sourced from: Weheartit.com

Sourced from: Weheartit.com

A new city offered new surroundings, to be enjoyed without boundaries when I left my parents, friends and everybody who knows me to become a stranger elsewhere.

It’s a liberating thought when you take a minute to reflect on it: being a stranger to every new person you encounter. Having the freedom to create a whole new existence or persona is inspiring. That’s what I felt before making the 86 mile trip in February and last Sunday afternoon, when I really considered the possibilities of what I could get up to, but as the headline suggests, there has been no rebirth, which is a little bit embarrassing.

Since migrating I’m habitually asked the question: “How’s Manchester?” and my response varies depending on who I’m reporting back to and how honest I’m being. Either I deflect the answer onto my course with a false display of overt joy: ‘It’s alright you know!’ or offset my true feelings with lightheartedness: ‘It’s cool thanks but I can’t tell you how Manchester is as I haven’t socialised since I’ve been here!’ – still with exclamation marks.

And it is fine. I get illegal free tram rides to the supermarket and back, have experienced no crime or racial abuse in deprived and all-Caucasian Salford, and there have even been advantages to my temporary poverty, like a diminished sweet tooth, but I exist within a hamster cage.

In fact I just dropped my old hamster cage into a new location. Some of this I anticipated and is necessary to achieve the results I intended. Venturing to Manchester was a purposeful decision, not frivolous, but there’s this niggling feeling of disappointment that I’ve not made more of it here when I’m dying to just initiate myself into some underground subculture or get involved in something that breaks me away from myself.

At the weekend, however, I was told sympathetically to go easy, “You’ve just moved. Everything you need to experience will come in due course,” which is perfectly logical advice. In the meantime though I’m looking for inspiration and content for new blogs with item number one being the London leg of the World Naked Bike Ride on 13 June 2015.

If I can secure an interview with the original founders/ organisers of the event then I plan to follow up with a news article so check back for that.

Cycling around Central London naked should be fun but much better with body paint to mask my clitoria – a flower with an uncanny resemblance to the vagina, but not the only one. (Click it) So on my to-do list is finding a bike, a creative individual who’d like to paint me and possibly a flesh-coloured thong.

GIG REVIEW: Bipolar Sunshine at the Ritz Manchester

Dulcet tones and hymnal backing vocals produced a calming sense of stillness at the Ritz Manchester last night.

Source: Chuff Media

Source: Chuff Media

Bipolar Sunshine lulled me into a trance only to rouse me from the slumber with beautiful melodies and lyrics that rang out like anthems.

It was an interesting experience, and yet somehow unexpected, despite the purposeful use of juxtaposition within his studio material and new creative direction.

Harmonic vocals ensnared the crowd and while lyrics, ‘I feel the fire’ echoed around the room so too did the rapturous applause once the last note was played. Sunset orange filled the stage for the aptly titled, Fire, and while Bipolar was quiet, the cheering continued.

Bipolar Sunshine, real name: Adio Marchant, knew exactly what he was doing on stage but yet didn’t need to do much at all. The audience were with him all of the way – phones and plastic cups of beer in the air, leaving Marchant and the band to continue without gimmicks.

Addressing the crowd near the end of his set, he declared: “I always make sure the last place I play is Manchester,” before rapping acapella in his uniquely crafted spoken-word style. Though Bipolar has made a conscious decision to step away from a sound synonymous with Manchester, you only had to look around at the indie crowd to know he’s made a mark on the alternative music scene here.

Relatable on stage without unnecessary decoration, reverberating drumbeats and synths added striking depth to his musical offerings. Magic was created when other genres like Ska seeped through and the crescendo of a four-piece band touched the soul of every person in the audience.

Performing all of the best tracks in his arsenal: Where Did The Love Go, Rivers, Love More Worry Less, I suspect we’ll be waiting until festival season to see him live again. Marking the last few minutes of his UK tour with Daydreamers, at least I have the album on my hard drive to see me through to summer.

www.bipolarsunshine.com

Originally published on Mancunian Matters