Posted in Lifestyle, Self-Discovery

This Week’s Lesson: Just Do You

For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with insecurities about myself, especially when it comes to all things physical. Having grown up just shy of obese, I’ve always felt self-conscious about my body: how I look in certain clothes, whether the trousers I’m wearing are showing off those love handles that I can’t seem to get rid off, whether my butt looks big in this dress or that dress and so on and so forth, a seemingly never-ending cycle of self-doubt and fat-shaming.

When I moved to London, I started to realise that I didn’t do myself any favours by constantly putting myself down. Its true what they say, you truly are your own worst critic. Most of the time the flaws you see in yourself are noticeable only to your own eyes, eyes that magnify every imagined fault and imperfection. I think I’ve been living in this city for almost 6 months when the scales fell and I saw that a lot of the time, being and feeling beautiful is rooted in self-confidence and being comfortable in your own skin.

Let’s face it, I’m not a Victoria’s Secret model by any stretch of the imagination, and I shouldn’t attempt to judge myself according to that standard of beauty because I have not been blessed in that department. There are other ways in which I have been blessed however. In my country, we call it “consuelo di bobo” (literally translated it means “at least I’m not stupid” ) and it may sound like sour-graping, but to me its just about enumerating and capitalising on your God-given strengths.

For example, I am confident enough to say that my intelligence is above-average. I am also good with words; either in the written format or in the form of a witty repartee, words and conversation have always come easy to me. I love a good banter and I enjoy making people laugh. According to a program at work that I am currently enrolled in, I apparently also have strong social intelligence, whatever that means. My Thursday boss says that its the ability to lie and manipulate people into doing what you want them to do. Well, hey, that sounds like a good weapon to have in my arsenal. Lol

You might be wondering where this blog entry is coming from. I know I always come across as someone who’s really confident and most of the time I am. Its just that when I’m placed in situations where I feel like being conventionally beautiful is everything, where I start to compare myself to other women, where the setting is not a platform where I can showcase my strengths, then I really struggle with my self-esteem.

For the trauma and orthopaedic christmas party, I went against all my natural instincts and decided on a look that was more mature and different from how I would normally look. The dress was tight-fitting and my heels were so high I think I struggled walking the short distance from my flat to Leicester Square. I got to the party and I felt like I had slipped into someone else’s skin and I might as well have impostor stamped all over my forehead. I didn’t feel like me, and my insecurities came out in spades.

Its funny how much the clothes we wear make a difference in how we feel. I guess in a way its because the clothes really do make the man (or woman), and what you choose to wear is a reflection of who you are. For that night, I attempted to be sexy and glamorous when I’m probably more classy and feminine. I’m not any man’s pin-up fantasy, but I am the kind of woman you can bring to dinner parties and introduce to your friends as an equal and accomplished partner. And that is where I’m most comfortable, that is my natural resting state and I swear to God, I am never going to forget that again.

I’m proud of myself and the woman I’ve become, and I’ve made peace with my weaknesses – for the most part. Its just that this whole physical attractiveness thing is one of my most deep-seated insecurities and I sometimes struggle to remind myself that I am beautiful in my own right, and that I am at my best when I’m just being myself. What I have may not be beauty in the conventional sense, but that doesn’t make it less, just different – in the same way that christmas lights are as beautiful as the blooms of spring. And dammit, maybe beauty is overrated. If you ask me, I would probably rather be interesting than beautiful.

Last week I did 5 long day shifts (0800-2030) because we were short-staffed at work. Friday rolled around and I just could not be bothered to wear my usual make-up. These days you can usually gauge how stressed I am by the shade of my red lipstick: the more stressed I get, the lighter the shade of my lipstick. My friend Romelyn asked me that Friday if I was going for the bare-faced look because I didn’t have anything on my face apart from powder and blush.

That day we did the first robotic orthopaedic case in the NHS, a couple of hip replacements and a couple of knee replacements. I love orthopaedics, and I particularly love joint replacements. So I was so confident in what I was doing that I was able to do my job while still engaging in light banter and, perhaps, harmless casual flirtation with my colleagues in between cases. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have make-up on or that I was wearing the world’s most unattractive uniform (raspberry scrub suits, ugh!), I felt confident and in my element.

The team had a lot of fun that day; work was made lighter by the easy camaraderie among the members of the team. That Friday, I apparently caught the eye of one of the visiting doctors in the team, who then asked for my number and asked me out on a date that weekend. In the course of scrubbing for a total knee replacement, even when I was bare-faced and gowned up with a mask on, I was able to make an impression just by being myself. That speaks volumes, doesn’t it? As cliche as it is, you really just have to do you and the rest of it will come easy.

So dear readers and fellow blabbaholics, let this be a reminder to me the next time I feel the need to be someone other than my fabulous self: Be you, the real you; own it and be proud of it.

Let’s put it this way, there are people who are more beautiful than you; there are people who are smarter than you, and there are people who are wittier than you, but there’s no one else with the combination of beauty, intelligence and wit that makes up you as a unique individual, and that is what makes you special.

 

Posted in dating, Lifestyle, relationships, romance, Uncategorized

Goodbye, Hopeless Romantic…

Its a rainy Saturday morning in London and I’m listening to the last song on Taylor Swift’s new album and I feel compelled to write a confessional blog.

 

Most of my friends know how much of a hopeless romantic I was. I read romance novels by the dozen every week while I was growing up. Name every literary romantic tropes and I’ve probably fantasised about and lived through them, especially the tragic ones: the enemy turned crush, the popular guy you could never have, your best friend’s boyfriend, and of course, the unrequited love for your best friend.

 

I’m not going to get melodramatic, don’t worry. I’ve already exercised a Taylor Swift-style catharsis on all my past loves in one way or another, including a Facebook message to someone I should have said ‘I loved you’ to a long time ago that is as honest and candid as it is cringeworthy (I still CANNOT believe I did it.)

 

In this age of Tinder and Match.com (and endless stories from my friends of cheating, friends with benefits arrangements, and one-night stands) its hard to hold on to my starry-eyed belief in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters. Its hard to reconcile my unrealistic expectations with the very harsh reality that dating and relationships in the 21st century is not the stuff of Disney movies and Judith McNaught novels.

 

When I moved to London, I resisted the pull of online dating for a long long time. My hopeless romantic soul could not accept the idea that my future love story would be written with an opening line of “…once upon a time there was an app where you can swipe through all the single men within a 5-mile radius”.

 

As time went by and life got busier, I came to fully understand why those sites exist. It is difficult as hell to meet someone in this city and I say ‘bullcrap!” to those articles that say London has the most number of single people in the world. Where are those single, eligible people? They’re certainly not walking up and down the halls of the NHS in scrubs and clogs. They’re not buying Pret coffee or egg McMuffins with bleary eyes and tired faces, already anticipating a long shift at work.

 

So yeah, online dating: today’s version of meeting people in coffee shops and striking up random conversations. Almost the same, except that everything’s virtual. With much reluctance, I ultimately resigned myself to the fact that this is how people date now.

 

At least once a year every year I download an online dating app and try my hand at dating. And without fail, every year for the past 6 years I go on one or two bad dates and then I give up on the process. I delete said app and go back to living the life of an independent woman, telling myself that I refuse to date for the sake of dating and that if its right, it will be easy. I believed (and still believe) that there’s nothing lacking in my life just because I’m not in a relationship; having a partner isn’t what defines me and society can piss of if they tell me 30 is too old to not be married. 

 

While all of the above are true, they’re also symptoms of someone who’s tried and failed too many times that it just became too exhausting to try, and easier to tell myself that I’m happier being single. And I’ve been really happy these past 6 years; my life has been enriched by experiences and adventures that have changed me for the better. And with the 20/20 vision that comes with hindsight, I realised that there are two reasons why I’ve always failed at dating (online or otherwise) where others have succeeded: I was never really ready, and I’ve been incredibly lazy.

 

My attitude towards online dating is a little like my attitude towards shopping at TK Maxx. Like I know that there are loads of amazing stuff there but I’m too lazy to go through all the rubbish ones to find that one dress that will make me feel like a million dollars. And then someone comes out with that amazing dress and I kick myself for not making the effort.

 

2017 is the year of the effort. I think that for the first time in a long time I’m genuinely ready for a relationship and I hope that my second-date-claustrophobia won’t rear its ugly head once again. I’ve had three meh dates and one bad one already this year and I’m still trying. I’ve had dates where someone’s nice but boring, where someone’s not boring but is only out for one thing, where there were sparks but no follow through, where there was a follow through but no sparks…and I figure that sooner or later, lightning will strike and all those elements will come together in one date (Please, God, I hope this is true. haha).

 

Baby we’re the new romantics, come on come along with me. Heartbreak is our national anthem, we sing it proudly.

New Romantics | Taylor Swift

 

I’m no longer the hopeless romantic that I was, and while some part of me misses the girl with the rose-coloured glasses, I’m mostly okay because I know she’ll always be there somewhere. She’s there in the way I giggle at every text; she’s there in the way I smile because he’s said something funny; she’s there in the warm feeling I get when he says something that means he gets me even though we’ve just met; she’s there, always, in the way I keep the hope alive that this time lightning has struck. But the great thing about being this new kind of hopeless romantic is that I know, even if I strike out instead, I will somehow find the fortitude to have another go at the bat. 

 

Goodbye, hopeless romantic. Hello, Hopeless Romantic 2.0 – bigger (literally), better and stronger version.

Posted in Food, Lifestyle, london

Fri-Yay Food Trip: Dishoom

After a whole week of rotation to trauma and orthopaedics, an eventful Friday filled with drama and the prospect of going home to the Philippines for the first time, my sister and I decided to take our dear friend Romelyn out to Dishoom last night before her flight to Cebu today. 

I was first introduced to Dishoom by my friend Katie and I have fond memories of catching up with her and my other favourite gal pal Caterina over a bowl of black daahl and a steaming pile of nan bread. The wait can sometimes seem interminable and its not unheard of to queue for at least an hour before you can even get to the bar and then wait another half an hour to get a table. But it is surely worth it.

Before Dishoom, my sister and Romelyn have always been skeptical about indian food. I was met with dubious looks and, in Arlene’s case, a serious frown, when I first suggested trying Dishoom at the Shoreditch branch. Obviously, these two have since changed their tune and we are now frequent visitors to this place, especially since the Kingly Street branch ( near Carnaby Street) is about a 5-minute walk from the flat.

Here are a few of our favourites in one photo:

Yum, yum, yum, yum, YUM!!!

When eating at Dishoom I find its best to have some sharers rather than having individual plates. For starters, we really like the Calamari served with different kinds of sauce/dips/whatever it is you call them.

You cannot go to Dishoom and not try their nan bread. Because I am obssessed with all things cheesy (from music to food to movies! Haha), I love ordering the cheese nan whereas my sisger prefers either the garlic or plain. I think its best served with the House Black Daahl. Let me tell you, I have no idea what’s in the Daahl and I don’t want to know but it is incredibly delicious when paired with the nan bread. If you want something a bit more sweet, you can also pair with with the Chicken Ruby. 

And finally, because the Filipino in us cannot have a meal without rice we often share Dishoom’s version of the chicken biryani. Its not that big a serving, but if you’ve already had everything else, I don’t think its a good idea to expect to consume a whole one by yourself because its really filling.

Ah, Dishoom. Still one of my favourite places to go to for a pick-me-up. Its not that expensive either. If you’re not consuming the cocktails, it will cost you about 25£ each. If you do order drinks, it can go to about as high as 35£ each, so be warned, the drinks are expensive. Also, if the long queue is stopping you from visiting, you can always come before 6pm because they will still be accepting reservations before then. Plus, they serve free drinks for the people queuing, which is another reason to give them two thumbs up!

Hope you get a chance to enjoy Dishoom as much as I do. Cheers! X 

Posted in Food, Lifestyle, london

Saturday Food Trip: Koba

My sister and I did an unexpected shift at the hospital yesterday and we both ended up staying until 8pm for some reason. So because it had been a long day and it was our workmate Gianluigi’s, last official day at work, we decided to treat ourselves to some korean barbecue.

Now London is a place that won’t ever run out of   korean barbecue restaurants, and in your quest for the best bulgogi in town you’ll run a gamut of choices, from the cheap to the reasonably priced to the really pricey. I think Koba is a place you go to every once in a while when you’re craving for GOOD korean barbecue. Its not the cheapest option for barbecue in central London; I think in terms of budget Superstar Barbecue in nearby St. Giles might be a bit easier on the pocket. However, in terms of quality Koba is definitely better.

We’ve been to Koba so many times that the waitresses already know they have to help us out because we’re just hopeless with the grill. That’s the other great thing about Koba: they have excellent and efficient service. The staff are always there to help you out if you need anything and they will do the grilling for you if it looks like you’re struggling (which I usually am).

There’s plenty of other choices apart from the barbecue. We usually get korean seafood pancakes for starters. They’re so yummy I could eat them all day. My sister and my friend Romelyn are both big fans of kimchi, which is a traditional korean side dish so we tend to get that as well.

I wouldn’t recommend having a lot of starters because the meats from the barbecue are quite heavy on the tummy already. BUT. One of my ultimate favourites in Koba is their seafood and egg fried rice and I don’t care how heavy rice is, I will always order the fried rice.

Also I didn’t have the chance to take a photo of it but the crab salad is also really good for a starter. The perfect combination of the saltiness of the crab and the vinegrette/dressing that they used was incredibly delicious. Gian went so far as to ask the waiter if they had bread because like the true Italian that he is, he wanted to mop up the remaining juice with a focaccia or something. Obviously a korean restaurant would not have bread of any sort, more’s the pity. 

Anyway, like I said, the korean barbecue selection are the true highlights of the restaurant. Depending on you hungry your party is and how many people are actually in your party, you might want to order a couple of plates. Usually, if its just my sister, Romelyn and I we can be satisfied with one. But Gianluigi was apparently really hungry so we ended up ordering both the Koba and Seafood platter.

Koba’s marinade is definitely better than Superstar’s and I also find that they have better-quality meats as well.  I remember Gian, who is a true coinousseur of all things culinary, being disappointed about the food when we last ate at Superstar but he gave this one his stamp of approval. Tutti bene as they say. I’m glad I’m finally able to return the favour after he made me taste one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had in my life.

Koba usually gets busy around 7 to 8pm. Unless you’ve made reservations, you stand a better chance of having a table if you go a bit early or a bit late, like closer to 9. Its located near Charlotte Street, its more like Rathbone Street to be precise. 

Cheers to more food trips. Happy weekend everyone! 

Posted in Food, Lifestyle, london

Friday Food Trip: The Roti King

Ah, the joys of de-stressing over food on a Friday night. After a really long day, I went to dinner with my sister and a couple of friends to an unknown (unknown to me anyway!) place near Euston called The Roti King.

I have to admit to being a bit skeptical at first. I’ve never really been fond of Malaysian food, apart from nasi goreng. But I am also the kind of person that is easily swayed by good advertising and believe me, the really long queue outside the restaurant was as good an ad campaign as any.

We must have waited about 90 minutes just to get into the restaurant. They had a really small space, I don’t think they could have sat more than 30 people at any given time. So top tips if you want to try this restaurant?

  1. Be prepared to queue 
  2. The chances of getting a table earlier depends on how many there are in your party. There were people who had only been queuing 5 minutes but a table for two was available so they were able to jump the queue. Whereas because we were a party of four, we waited a while.
  3. They do takeaway as well so that might be an option to consider.
  4. Its cash only guys. The nearest cashpoint is in Euston station so be prepared with some G’s.

Anyway, we finally got in around 8:30 and by this point the savoury smell was really getting to my stomach. I was so so hungry (so what else is new) that I just rattled off appetizers straight away. Roti to me is like a softer version of nan bread, or the malaysian equivalent of crepe. We ordered roti with spinach and cheese, roti special (this comes with either chicken, fish or lamb curry sauce) and the chicken murtabak which is roti with chicken and egg filling.

The first two were awesome. The last one was a bit bland and really filling, especially since we still ordered mains. I think if we ever go back there again, I’d order more of the roti with chicken curry. It was just so so good, my mouth is watering at the memory.

So, with the mains I would recommend sharing. We didn’t anticipate the portions to be as big as they were. I also didn’t anticipate how spicy the dishes would be which was stupid of me seeing as the dish I ordered had a big red S (for spicy) beside it. I am not known for my tolerance for spicy food so for the life of me, I have no idea why I ordered the sambal fried rice. Sambal literally means chilli-based. We are talking about rice that was probably cooked in chilli! It was so spicy that the first spoonful had me reaching almost immediately for my glass of diet coke.

Tip: My friend Angelica recommenda getting the soya milk to counteract the effect of the spiciness. I never knew that. Unfortunately, the only thing I tolerate less than spiciness is soya milk. Ugh. 

It was incredibly delicious despite that though. I didn’t finish the dish because there’s only so much spice I could take so my sister swapped plates with me and I was able to try her flat rice noodles instead, called char kuey teow, also really really good. I forgot to take a photo of it but its almost similar to the one below except that they used flat rice noodles intead of canton and I’ve always loved flat rice noodles, or ho fun as the Chinese call it. 

All in all, I give this restaurant a 4 out of 5 rating. It was good and it was cheap. With the amount of food we had we only paid about 14£ each and we would have paid less if we thought about sharing instead of ordering one dish each. As it was, we ended up asking them for a box for our leftover.

I would definitely recommend this place if you’re looking for authentic food and like us, you’ve spent a little too much this month and payday seems ages away.
Cheers! x 

Posted in Health and Well-Being, Lifestyle

The Bare Necessities and how I realised that Health IS Wealth

A colleague of mine recently had to miss work for a week because he was extremely unwell. He works so hard: he shows up for work an hour before we’re meant to be there to make sure he’s ready for the day; when you’re working with him, you always know you’re safe because he has so much experience and you know that he knows what he’s doing; he has the highest standards and does not suffer fools (or laziness); he’s at work so much that people joke that he should change his post code to our place of employment.

It made me think about our motivations and what drives us to work as hard as we do. For him, he does it to support his family. He’s recently realised his dream of bringing his entire family to the UK, to provide his children with all the opportunities that would have otherwise been unavailable to them had they stayed in the Philippines. That cost a lot of money, and in his own words, they’re currently broke but they’re all broke together. 

For a lot of people, money is the biggest motivator. Let’s face it, love may make the world go round but you need cash to grease the wheels. Its kinda difficult to keep mushy feelings going if your roof is leaking because you have no money for repairs, or if you’re living off bread and beans every day.

I know a lot of people who work at least 60 hours a week just to earn extra money. Heck, I’ve done it and I often don’t recognise myself at the end of a 60-hour work week. I think we never stop to think about the impact it has on us when we work as hard as we do. We are not machines; in fact, even machines have down-time. There are times when we – human beings – DON’T. And in a stressful environment like nursing, that can have serious consequences.

Work is physically demanding, no doubt about that. I am on my feet 80% of the time, even when I’m supposed to be doing admin work. By necessity – because of the nature of our job – our brain goes into overdrive most of the time. In addition, you give so much of yourself to care for your patients and to work harmoniously with your colleagues that the work also becomes an emotional drain. Now imagine experiencing that for 60 hours per week. Is it any wonder that people get sick?

I think we need to take better care of ourselves. I think we all need to remember that money and career are no substitutes for physical, mental and emotional well-being. I guess its one of the hazards of the world that we live in. We’ve become too enamored of material things that we’ve forgotten the bare necessities (the simple bare necessities, forget about your worries and your strife), such as health and simple freakin’ joy. Do you really need the latest iPhone X and is it worth forking over almost a thousand pounds? Do you need that Burberry trench coat so badly that you’ll run yourself ragged to buy it? Do you really need to be trying London’s trendiest restaurant every Friday night? 

I guess I’m writing this blog as a reminder to myself. My favourite sushi place sells a box called Health and Happiness and I think I’m coming to realise that health IS happiness and like happiness, its a choice that you have to make every day. Don’t be blinded by the bling, or the craving to buy a Prada bag you don’t actually need, or the zeroes you want to see in your bank account. All of that means nothing if you’re bedridden for a month because you’ve worked yourself to the bone. Health is happiness and health is wealth. Let’s do ourselves a favour and take care of ourselves more than we take care of our bank account. 

Posted in Lifestyle, london, Music, Reviews

A Love Letter to Music and Intimate Concert Venues

I recently went to an intimate concert at the O2 Academy in Brixton and I just have to write about what a great venue it was and how awesome small venues are in general. Granted, it was a Killers concert so I would have had a great time regardless of where it was held. But really, I found it amazing that a band who had sold out arenas like Wembley can also choose to have a gig in a comparatively small venue.

This isn’t the first time I’ve attended gigs like these. In the past couple of years, I’ve bought tickets to watch underrated artists who may not sell out big venues but whom I really really like, maybe because I listened to their music repeatedly while I was growing up. Like Vonda Shepard for example, who rose to fame while playing songs on the hit show Ally McBeal.

I remember I used to “borrow” (and I use this term loosely) CDs from my uncle Tony’s extensive collection and hers was one of the albums that I would take up with me to my room. I was a very emotional and angsty teenager and I spent quite a lot of time in my room agonising over my teenage crushes and Vonda’s songs were (and still are) the perfect accompaniment to that. I dare any woman from my generation to tell me they didn’t cry their heart out to Baby Don’t You Break My Heart Slow.

​ 
 

I saw Vonda at Bush Hall, Sheperd’s Bush last year. When my sister and I were queuing up for this show, I was half afraid that we were being scammed because from the outside the place did not look like any concert venue I’ve ever been to before. There wasn’t even a proper entryway, just a tiny door that resembled the stage door that theatre performers go in and out of. But you should never judge a book by its cover I guess because the inside was absolutely beautiful. This hall looked more like it was used for wedding receptions and parties rather than concerts. It was awesome. And at 26£ per ticket, it was a freakin’ steal! 
Anyway, here are some of the other reasons why small venues are A-awesome:

You don’t need to queue for an entire day just to get a good view

So the last time I went to see The Killers at Hyde Park, I queued at 6am, had an egg mcmuffin at around 10 and nothing else thereafter, had small sips of water throughout the day so that I wouldn’t have to go to the toilet for the next 12 hours and eventually I got to see Brandon and co. at around 9pm. The reason I did all that is because I am only just over 5 feet on a good day and I wanted a good view of the band for my first Killers concert. So I was right up the front during the show but it came at the price of my sanity.

For their concert at Brixton, I came at 7 after having had a good pub dinner and a couple of rounds of drinks, bought another round of drinks at the actual venue before eventually grabbing a spot and still managed to have a good view of the band. O2 Brixton also has an amazing sloping floor so even if you’re at the back and vertically challenged like me, you’ll still be able to see Brandon Mr. Brightside Flowers. 

If you do make the effort to come early, the view is spectacular

The Apple Music Festival is held annually at The Roundhouse, another intimate venue. I’ve been lucky enough that even though I’ve never won any tickets for that festival (you can’t buy tickets, you have to enter a lottery because its completely free), I’ve had at least one friend win tickets 3 years in a row and they’ve taken me along as their plus one. I’ve seen Robin Thicke, Avicii, Little Mix and the last One Direction concert before the band broke up. I queued up pretty early for 1D because I am a not-so-closet directioner and as a result I got to see them up close. I had to battle it out with what seemed like hundreds of tweens though; at one point I thought a stampede would break out! I never want to go through it again, but it was still a great experience.

The acoustics are awesome

Because its such a small venue, the sound is kind of contained and so to me the acoustics sounded so much better than it does in the bigger venues.

 

You feel one with the crowd and with the artist

Gavin Degraw is one of those underrated artists who should be more famous than they are. His songs got me through college. One song in particular has special meaning to me and is the reason why I bought tickets to see him perform TWICE  in one year, both times at the O2 Forum in Kentish Town. The first time I saw him live, More Than Anyone was not on the setlist and I was crushed. I was determined to keep watching him until he played it. And when he did, I really truly felt like he was singing it just  for me.


 

Absolutely beautiful. Thousands of people all singing along to my favourite song. I do love it when artists do sing-alongs during concerts. I saw Kodaline at Hammersmith Apollo and they asked the crowd to sing along to The One, which is actually the one song of theirs that I know the words to. I love the lyrics to this song. 

​​

I think for most artists, having people sing along to your songs is a form of validation. I mean, take The Killers for example. Every time they play Mr. Brightside, Brandon hardly needs to sing because the audience does it for him:


​  

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, hearing Mr. Brightside live is akin to a religous experience. Lol

In some cases, you pay peanuts for the tickets.

The Killers tickets were a bit pricey at 68£ but most of the tickets for the shows I’ve seen hardly ever go over 30£. If you’re a music lover like me, that’s nothing. Also, when I’m watching lesser known artists, not only are the tickets cheaper but there’s also a guarantee that everyone who’s there are true fans which makes for a better experience.

So yeah, I’m sure arena concerts and festivals are awesome in their own way and they’ll have an entirely different atmosphere because of the huge crowds and the number of other activities that you can do. But I personally am spoiled for life after having been to shows like these. Although I wouldn’t turn my nose up if someone were to offer me, say, free Glastonbury tickets. I just want to celebrate music and all joys that come with it.