Green is the new black? No, not when it's envy.

Oh dear.

I'm envious. And it's all because I'm a competitive perfectionist. I'll admit that much, and I wish I didn't have to. Because I don't like admitting my flaws.
It was like the time I heard about the Australian girl who published her first book at thirteen. 'Thirteen?!' I thought, being twelve at the time, and incredibly far from publishing my own books. But since I was so jealous, and began writing furiously, and never really finished any of the stories.

This time, being three years older, you'd think I wouldn't be so jealous. But I am. Even more jealous in fact, because I believe I'm older therefore wiser, therefore I should be so fantastic at everything that I needn't ever be jealous of anyone else ever again.
But curiosity got the better of me. I remembered hearing about a little girl who began blogging about fashion when she was twelve years old, and the proceeded to make it big (no, not big- insanely large) in the fashion world. Apparently she had an awesome blog. So I googled her.
And she does.

In fact, it's so good that now I'm jealous. And I found myself thinking 'why aren't I that good? Why isn't it my name that rolls off all the famous designers lips?'. If anyone else was in the room with me, they'd respond 'Because you're not that good.' to which I'd reply 'Yes I am! I'm even better!' but surely we'd end up in an argument, resulting with me in tears, because suddenly I'm terrible at blogging.

But before someone decides to humble me themselves, I will proudly (okay, maybe not proudly, but never mind) admit that I am most certainly not the best blogger in the world. I'm probably not the best author in the world, nor am I the best photographer or fashion designer.
But hey, I'm working on it.

What a wonderful world.

I'm in an absolutely foul mood. But instead of conveying that feeling to the rest of the cyber world, I would much rather blog about something good and sweet.

I dont know what makes you happy. I would dearly like to, though (leave me a comment and tell me sometime).
But I know what makes me happy. Little things. Like yesterday, I took a dear friend of mine shopping with me as I spent the remainder of my birthday money. We probably spent more time on public transport, but oh how I love our days together.
After several hours, I had two lovely little pairs of suede heels to add to my steadily growing collection, and a beautiful black lace dress.

And while drying my hands at the hand drier in the shopping centers toilets, the lady beside me remarked at how 'beautiful' my eyes were. On my way out, I held the door open for a little old woman with a walking frame. Feeling like a giant against her, I smiled down as she looked up and said 'Thank you, dear'.
I don't know about you, but I love being called 'dear' by sweet old people.

And even though it rained cats and dogs on the way home, while we walked alone, just the two of us, through the early evening streets because our bus wasn't coming for another hour; Even though my hands were numb and my mohawk had flopped down onto my forehead, I was the happiest I'd been all day.
Because when I held the door open for that elderly lady, I changed her day. When the woman at the hand drier told me I had beautiful eyes, she changed mine. And spending any day with my best friend changes my life.
Oh what a wonderful world this can be.

Now quite frankly, I'm done with being in a foul mood. Because I've got two pairs of suede heels are that just dying to be worn some day soon...