Lydia Rees

Talofa hunnies, if youre reading this then I want to say THANK YOU. I posted this specific blog on the low key mainly because i want you guys to stumble across surprise blogs like this. Once again, grab a schnack and settle in for a cute rant. The Eff in Effort 9 times out of 10, we find our selves getting bored and losing interest in almost anything we do. Its not an opinion but a fact, (well according to Lydia Rees). No matter what it is, a new job, friendship groups, relationships, marriage, hobbies, there will always be a time where you will get bored or lose interest. Where you get "sick of trying and as heartless as it is to say, I know that as the generations pass through, we grow numb to the idea of fixing things and rather, just throwing them away because its ëasier". *rolls eyes dramatically* Lydia would like to present to you the EFF (use your imagination in eff), in EFFORT! Everyone knows that the beginning of a new job, friendships, relationships, hobbies

TUFUGA'S MAT - PART 2 "ITS ABOUT ADOPTING THE LIFESTYLE, VALUES AND MORALS..." a    s a c r i f i c e   Talofa Hunnies and Welcome to Tufuga's Mat Part 2. If you haven't read Part one already, I suggest going back and reading that first! Part one, was all about getting the tattoo done, but part 2 will consist of all the jazz, the ish, the dahdah that comes with the tattoos, the do's the don'ts and of course, the controversial side of things. Once again hunnies, grab something to eat or drink, and lets gets cracking! >>>.><><><><.<<< In most cases, if not all, the tattoos wearer had a choice in which to get the malu or not and so in saying that, they also chose to take the responsibility of having the tattoo (good and bad). Part of receiving the malu or a malofie is also adopting the lifestyle, morals and values of a Samoan individual, and often, for the modern day Samoan society, this can mean maki

TUFUGA'S MAT - PART 1 UNITED THROUGH BLOOD AND PAIN f o r   c u l t u r e  ~  f o r   m e  Written & Published : Lydia Rees   . . .  I anxiously sit watching and waiting for when the tufuga arrives and every little bit of movement around me makes me grow a little more weary. In the distance I can hear the sea crashing, the wind passing through the trees, the lady in the field sweeping up what used to be luscious green leaves which have now fallen to their resting place, I wait. My ankles press against the falas (mat) , imprinting the weaving crafts, folded legs that sat to make these mats for folded legs to rest on, lay on, sleep on, cry on. Flies fly back and forth, touching my skin, flying away, touching the mats, flying away, touching my back pack, flying away, heading in the direction a nearby group of onlookers , flying away, imitating the direction of my thoughts wondering aimlessly here and there and here and there. I sit. How do you put into word