Drunkly Sober Writing Skills

So 2015 happened. Like a whole year of my life that I can honestly say I lived without being in fear of what's going on inside my own head. That's a pretty random thing to say, I know, but 2015 was the first year in a long time that I've been fully in control. Applying and choosing a uni, passing my first set of A Levels, finally overcoming anxiety and whatever else the fuck is wrong with me.

And a lot of stuff happened to the world, never mind me. A lot of people died, a lot of people did things that will go down in history, both for good and bad reasons, reasons that, either way, will be marked in our kids' history books. From a little boy on a beach, to red white and blue lighting up the world's skies, 2015 will be remembered as immense. An entire library of world history crammed into twelve months.

And, of course, I lost my grandad. A man I just toasted to not half an hour ago, with some hella expensive whiskey that tasted like some hella expensive shit-smothered cardboard. You can never say I didn't love you, Robert.

But yeah, there's a lot of 'this is a brand new page, make this book a good one' quotes flying around the internets tonight. Which part of me (the tumblr part) agrees with, but the other half is repulsed by the cheesy crap that some people be spouting. So my inspirational quote for the evening is; don't fuck this one up.

This is a brand-spanking, new car smell, plastic cover still on the seats, fresh, year. The other one is a tiny bit fucked up - it's been keyed a couple of times and smells like a couple of homeless guys have taken up residence in it. Honestly, it needs compounding into one of those neat little cube-things. 

But it happened, it existed. It will never not exist. Don't know whether this post is of benefit to anybody but me to be honest. I've no idea what I've written. Because I may be a tiny bit drunk. Thank god for spellcheck. Or thank Steve Jobs for spellcheck. Or Bill Gates. Who came first, though? It's like the chicken-egg debate. I should really leave now.

Oh yeah, happy new year or whatevs.

R.

Grandad

The thing is about death is that it isn't real enough. You refuse to believe it. Yeah, you cry and you mourn and you lie there at night thinking about what the last thing they said to you was. Worrying whether you told them that you loved them before they stepped out the front door. But somebody doesn't have to be in the same room as you to be alive, so he could just as easily be sat in his armchair watching Seven Wives for Seven Brothers, couldn't he? He could just as easily be stood over the pond feeding his coi, or shouting at his computer, couldn't he? 

Because that's the way I've decided to think of it. He's still in his armchair watching TV or shouting at Facebook for not sending a message to a long lost cousin somewhere in the depths of the highlands. It's just that his armchair is still in the bungalow, but in a different 'place'. And he's probably already off his face on Gkenfidicks, looking down (or up, you never really knew with him) at us all and thinking 'stupid bastards, I get all this stuff for free up here'.

And he wasn't taken 'before his time', either. Because it's not about the length of time we're graced with, it's about all the stuff we manage to ram into it. And, oh, did he manage. The self-proclaimed computer sensation, the world traveller the Indian prince. He did far more in his life than I'll ever manage to do in mine, I'll tell you that for free. He was chock-full of stories and images of people and countries and other worlds. You could sit and listen to the man for hours, and still, I swear he never once repeated a story. Somehow, there was always something new he had to tell you, but that 'something new' was a story about some dodgy tradesman he met in Australia in 1964 who told him he was selling him a car and he turned up with a camel with a monkey strapped to its back or something.

The only way I managed to compute all of this, was creating some really over-elaborate metaphor. I said it was like somebody collecting hundreds of antique discontinued vinyls over 76 years and keeping them in a huge box in their wardrobe. And, one day, they go to open their wardrobe and the box is just gone. Poof. Disappeared. With no explanation, so you just sit there and think about all those songs that you'll never hear again. Every ounce of time and space that went into crafting every line, every word, just gone. 

Of course, you're sad. They were yours. And you're angry, because you'd spent close to a century collecting all those vinyls. But then you realise, you loved those songs with everything you had. You know every line, every word, every chord of every song on every single one of those albums. They live within you. When you're sat at work, tapping on the desk, that's the tune you're tapping. Whatever song you're humming when you're making breakfast on a morning, that's what you're humming.

So, whether we like it or not, he's sticking with us. We used him up and squeezed him dry, we loved him until it was his time. So there must be no 'I regret's, only 'I remember's. Because every time you drink whisky, every time Liverpool scores, every time The Beatles play, you won't be able to help seeing that smug bastard, winking at you, and raising his glass.

Ill in Time for Christmas

So I willed it and willed it until it finally happened. It's been wanting to happen for a couple of weeks and I hoped to God that I would be able to get it out of the way before Christmas. And here it is. I woke up with it a couple of days ago, and I've never been so happy about not being able to breathe. Yes, I finally got a cold. But this cold means, if my maths are correct, I will not be ill over Christmas. Because, I swear to God, if I'm not able to taste that fucking turkey, that is the day I lose all hope in humanity.

I've not asked for much this Christmas, because as you get older, the present pile gets smaller but all the more expensive. Because I don't get 'excited' about Christmas anymore. I think, on the scale of 1 - Dudley Dursley, I peak at about a 5/6 on the whole present thing nowadays. I look forward to seeing family and eating a shit-tonne of goose fat-smothered food. I look forward to giving the gifts, not receiving them. I enjoy watching my 10-year-old cousin go through his 'I don't know what to believe but if I say I don't believe in Santa, I might not get presents' phase and hear him scream 'Thanks mum and dad... and Santa!' when he opens up his 13th set of Star Wars Lego. I kind-of like receiving an unusable present from my Gran and smiling gratefully, because it wouldn't be Christmas without a pair of hessian sandals to wear in the Northern snow. 

I also don't have a job to go to over Christmas (oh yeah, I quit)' so I don't have that to worry about. The fear that crept into my heart whenever I thought about serving plates upon plates on watery poultry on Christmas morning, when I should be spending time with my family, was enough to make me cry. I vow to never work in a pub environment again. Although the Sunday drunkards were always fun to observe, it wasn't worth it. 'Twas all in all a faf, really. But, because I'm such a good person, I've been spending what little money I've managed to retain on the few humans who've claimed me as a 'loved one'. It's times of the year like this that I wish I was a sociopath so I didn't have to worry about buying gifts for other people. I hate people.

So while I am broke, I am happy, however slowly I may be drowning in used Kleenex's. However high I am on ASDA's own cold and flu capsules and however shit the back of my mouth tastes. Now I think about it... No. I'm happy. I think.

So Happy Christmas/ Hanuka/ Ede/ Quanza/ whatever Pheobe Buffay celebrates this time of year.

Aw, look at the state.

Them (just a little thought)

What would you say was the defining moment of a generation? For my parents, they'd probably talk about the Falklands or the Miners' strike. My grandparents would immediately say the war or the IRA, and I'd probably talk about 9/11 or Paris. It's horrible when you realise these 'moments' are all conflict-generated. They're all moments fuelled by hate. At a stretch my parents could mention the Berlin Wall, or the end of the apartheid, but what could I say. I remember where I was when Bin Laden was killed, and yes it was a great thing, but one of the biggest highlights of my generation is the death of an old coward who caused most of the other defining moments of my generation. 

You could say that these moments are just drops in the moral panic oceans, whose waters change every ten years to make way for a different tide. (Wow, ver philosophical) Another thing for society to panic about, because if we don't have panic, we don't have anything, do we? 

My mum refuses to go to big shopping centres around Christmas time because 'you don't know what will happen'. My auntie panics every time she has to get on a plane to America, not because of the fact that she's ten thousand feet in the air or because of the impossibility of flight but because, 'you don't know what will happen'. But that's just it, we don't know what's going to happen. We live in fear of something that might never happen, but all because there's a small possibility, we change the way we live our lives. And that makes them think they've won. And we can't let them think they've won. Isn't it ridiculous that I don't even have to give a name, and you know who 'they' are. They didn't even self-brand themselves, the name they brandish, the name that strikes fear into the hearts of nations, is a name we gave them.

So I'd say 2015 was a pretty shocking year as far as that goes. We all want 2016 to have as little resemblance to last year as much as possible. I mean, personally, last year was pretty shit in terms of losing a close family member but, socially, it was OK I guess. A lot of things ordinary people like us just have no power over, so whatever will be will be. And that isn't me saying that I don't care about the terrible stuff that's happened, as the stuff that's still to come. It's me saying that, as somebody who isn't a world leader or NATO operator, all I can do is know that the world will go on, with or without some people in it. So here's hoping 'some people' are the ones who don't deserve to be here, rather than the ones who do.

My Arsenal

So I actually got asked for advice the other day by someone who's suffering from something I've suffered with for a long time now. Like, another human actually came to me for advice. I felt flattered that I was the person in mind but also hella frightened that this idiot was the only source of information they had to go off. Anyway, they came to me asking for help with her anxiety so I sat for a while and tried to compose a defense Arsenal against panic attacks. And then I realised most of the stuff I wrote down made no sense and so I tried to just wing it. So this is some of the stuff I 'winged' and I hope it makes sense to some of you. And it'd be great (for my ego) if I thought this crap was actually helping somebody (other than my ego).

So, number one: talking to yourself.

I mean, unless you're alone or you don't give a shit, don't do it aloud. But if you feel like you're starting to panic, pick something to look at. Shops and signs are the best, so if you're in a shopping centre, which is where panic attacks tend to spring up on me, it's ironically the best place for you to do it. Anyway, look at stuff and literally say to yourself, 'that sign's pink' and 'that's a tall tree'. Then I like to make stupid stuff up like 'I wonder where that old lady lives? She looks like a Margaret. I bet she has annoying dog called Archie that craps everywhere whenever she leaves the house. I bet she named it after her late incontinent husband.' And you find your brain becomes focussed on something else and you can just ride out the wave, as it were.

Number two: a little tick.

For me, it's tapping my foot. But anything that has some sort of rhythm to it tends to give your brain something else to focus on. For a while my mum used to grab my leg until I told her that it helped. And you learn not to give a shit about what other people think, as long as it makes you feel relaxed, fuck them. I know it's hard to say that, especially because, when you're having a panic attack, you feel like the whole row of people in the fruit and veg isle at ASDA are looking at you. But I can guarantee you they're not. They're too busy concentrating on other things. You never know, in there heads they might be saying 'that apple's green' and you'd never know, would you?

Number three: banging tyunes.

Music. Music everywhere. Surround yourself with it. I never leave the house without my earphones. It's amazing how calming a beat or focus sing on the lyrics of a song can be. Just focus on everything. And, trying not to sound like a raving lunatic here but, make up stories. Make up situations in your head, look out the window and pretend you're in a music video. As sad as it sounds, it works. Plan out a meeting with Barack Obama, I don't care. Let your imagination massacre the anxiety.

Number four: chocolate.

Now, this one might be a tad disappointing because I'm not actually suggesting you eat a shit-tonne of chocolate, although you can do if you want to. But this is where you plan out something you're getting worked up about into sections (like a chocolate bar, geddit?) and when you complete a sections, you break off a piece. So every little thing you're panicking about is a square on the bar. Like in F.R.I.E.N.D.S. when Chandler runs away because he's shit scared about getting married and Ross says 'you're not getting married just yet, you're getting a cab, going home, taking a shower then getting dressed'. (And if you haven't seen F.R.I.E.N.D.S. then sucks for you. Not really, nobody got it anyway.)

Number five: body mapping

This is a Mindfulness strategy. Basically, you can do it standing up, sitting or laying down, but you focus on a part of your body then slowly work your way up. So focus on your feet, the your ankles, your knees, your thighs, your hips etc etc. Until you get to your head. Simple. You can do it in 30 seconds or 3 minutes, depending on the situation you're in. I do it sat in the middle of 2000 people in the common room at college, or I can do it sat on a bus. It doesn't matter. 

So there, that's all I've got. I hope it was at least a little literate. C for effort, A* for alliteration. 

R.

Bus Poems #1

So I realised that I'm on the bus a lot nowadays, so I thought I'd start putting those soul-crushing hours into good use by doing something for this blog thing I've got going on. So I thought why not do some poemy-stuff? Just warning y'all that busses are depressing so, chances are, these poems will be too.

The Rocks

Taking deep breaths isn't the most of it

Just some silly ritual

That gives me a bit

Of sanity to keep me swimming

To help my hands pass through

The breaking waves that have me clinging

Onto the rocks that have my name carved in

My fingertips bleeding from the calligraphy

Written not in ink

But in sheer will to be

With my head above the water

Just so they can see

How strong I am in heart and mind

As they read the artwork in the granite

But still they are blind

They are distracted by the sunlight

The beautiful gold on the blue

Driven in delight

As the ugly thing

That bleeds into the rocks

Tries to enunciate and sing

The verse that contaminates the cliff face

Now craning it's neck to catch the alms

They turn away disgraced

At the thing that they once recognised

Abandoning it with heartless deflection

They can't be surprised

When it calls out their names.

Being #sad

I feel like it's quite easy for people to say 'if you don't like the situation you're in, move on and get out of it'. Well, it's extremely easy for people to say that, but actually putting actions to those words is an entirely different thing. Take my life for example, I don't enjoy the job that I'm in, and I'd love nothing more to get out of that situation as these people suggest, but I can't. And, well, that's just life. I've only been there for a couple of months, I need the money and it won't look very good on my CV if I leave now. The cold hard fact of life being that you're going to encounter pricks wherever you go, and you can't always avoid them, in fact it's nion impossible to avoid most of them. So, they way I look at it is, you just have to face them head-on. 

I'm a strong believer in 'be the change you want to see', but that doesn't have to be like a change in the way the world works, more like something changing in your own life. Because, in the end, you are your world (if that makes any sense at at all. Cut me some slack, I'm writing this at 12 am). And that might sound self-indulgent - but it's true. Think of it this way, you and your friend are walking across the road, and you see a bus hurtling towards you, and, yes, you try and save your friend too, but the first natural thing that comes into your mind is 'holy fuck, I'm going to die'. And I think that it's wrong that our society has taught us that confidence in ourselves is a bad thing. Because, yes, I should have the confidence to quit my job, but I need the money to buy shit for myself. Do you see my predicament?

Because, yes, eventually I will get out. But money makes people happy, including myself. Money buys Christmas and birthday presents which ultimately buys you respect. And I like spending money on other people, because I want them to make me feel good about myself: 'why yes, thank you, I am a good person aren't I?' All this sounds horribly self-centred, but that's life. And I'm definitely not a self-centred person, ask anyone who knows me. Because I spend the majority of my life worrying about what others think of me. I mean, I don't even smile that much anymore because of my crooked teeth. 

And not a lot of people know this about me, but I'm not actually a 'happy' person. Robin Williams once said, 'I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make other people happy'. And, yes, this job does make me 'sad' (as we'll call it), but so do exams and life in general, and only whiney little pricks are the ones who spend their lives complaining about it and they're the ones who flit about inconsistently like the annoying little buzzing idiots that they are. And, maybe it's because I'm a Northerner, but I think you've just got to suck it up and ride it out. Because being 'sad' isn't a huge problem, a lot of people have it much worse than I do. Because I can't stand privileged kids who whine about 'aw, mummy and daddy didn't buy me the Fiat500 in the right shade of nuave blue'. Because, bitch, if that's all you've got to complain about, you need to find someone else to complain to.

R.

*Insert Pumpkin Emoji Here*

So Halloween is next week and, like the popular white girl that I am, I've been invited to 3 parties. 2 of which I can't go to because I'm working and 1 of which I can't drink at because I've got work the next morning. So feeling really Halloween-y at the moment, and work is really beginning to affect me in the membrane, but we won't get into that because I could easily spiral into a existential crisis-rant if I talk about it any more. But apart from working all the hours God sends and not being able to do any college work because of that - I'm doing great. 

I've even had a proper 'Halloween day' with my friend, in which we spent an hour dragging ourselves through cow shit, picking out the perfect pumpkin. Then we carved said pumpkins whilst eating bonfire toffee and watching American Horror Story - you physically can't get more Halloween-ified. But not before sitting in Costa listening to a 50-year-old couple, let's call them Vicky and Jezza, having a domestic about their marriage breakdown. Seriously, the highlight of my Autumn was hearing a 50-odd year-old woman saying 'Everything was fine, I gave you my Netflix account details, and then you went and put your thing in that fat mess.' Listen, Vicky, Jezza, if you're reading this, keep the faith. Don't let go of that glimmering glow of love and hope you once forged deep within the triumphant fires of love... but I'd get yourselves, you know, 'checked out' before you try re-lighting those cinders again.

I've also not only been dragging myself through cow shit, but also through the steaming pile that is Wuthering Heights. Now, I know a lot of people would argue that it's a beautiful, classic novel that's to be treasured by all those who read it. And I know I should be passionate about my 'Northern pride', but, seriously, it's the slowest shit I've ever read. And to hell with my English teacher's 'you need to read the books otherwise you won't pass' bullshit. I didn't read either of the books last year and I got an A in both exams. I mean, the majority of that was probably just luck, but that's besides the point... a little bit... not really.

At least I've tried. I've watched the Tom Hardy TV film thing, and that was ok, it held my attention. But the book? Nope. I've had more thrilling experiences folding 250 napkins into perfect triangles. (I only bring that up because that's how I spent my working afternoon. Rebecca Screeton: value for money.) But it'll be 'right. 

Oooh look, pumpkins and shit, now you know she's been talking about Halloween, right? Oh yeah, and I've recently started a couple of series on Netflix which I think are pretty damn good. So I'm a bit late to the party with American Horror Story, but Once Upon a Time and Peaky Blinders are... yep... still a little late to jump on that bandwagon, but great shows non-the-less. Check them out.

I know this was a bit short, but nobody reads this shit anyway.

I hate myself.

R.

What Am I Even Doing?

So it's that time in my life when I've just started applying for uni. I mean, if that's not great reminder that I have adult responsibilities now, I don't know what is. But it also means that I've started writing my personal statement, and that's just another depressing reminder. Another reminder that everything I've ever done and worked for can be finalised into 42 lines on a word document. And for anybody who doesn't live in the UK and who doesn't have to write one of these Beelzebub confessions (lucky you), a personal statement is basically your opportunity to sell yourself to the universities you're applying for. For example, we're told to 'big ourselves up' - but not too much otherwise they'll think we're full of ourselves. We're told to be eloquent - but not too eloquent because we don't want them to think we're full of ourselves. You get it.

But seen as I'm applying to do an English degree, I have to find the happy alternative, somewhere in between 'thou doth seek a fortuitous student to happen upon your midst who wishes to study ye old language of God's country... forsooth' and 'I well want to do this writing thing 'cos I is good at that thing when you tap those plastic things with letters on with me pointy fleshy things'. But I suppose if they see this then I won't even have to bother trying, because this is obviously pure literary gold. 

I suppose we've reached the point in the post where I (try) give advice to anyone who's applying for university at the moment. And my advice is - I don't have any advice. I haven't even sent my application off yet. They don't get sent off till January or something. I've no experience. And the experience I do have is literally just working out how to enter my GCSEs on UCAS. But I suppose, don't pannic I guess? Yeah, that seems pretty solid. A piece of advice that requires no real experience nor intelligence to give. Which seems like a pretty sound basis to live off of. Be stupid and naive. Sounds good to me.

So yeah, life update time I guess. I still have a job. That's all I'm saying about that. And I'm still vaguely enjoying college. People are starting to turn 18 and buying cars and shit. Which means more pressure from my mum saying 'You need to start learning. You're going to be stuck when you go to uni. You need to get off you're arse. What are you doing with your life? Why are you even here? Who are you? You're not my daughter! Get out of my house.' You know, the usual stuff. But summer is over, Halloween is a month away and I've already been invited to a party because I'm just that cool and popular and affable. *Swishes long, golden hair with heavily manicured nails whilst placing on a pair of Gucci sunglasses*

I'm very tired.

R.

Music For Your Earholes

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So summer's nearly over and I've basically created an album playlist for ya'll to deal with that. Hopefully I'll be providing links to all of the artist's link to their YouTube channels and Vevo's and stuff so you can have a lil' listen. So, yeah, enjoy.
(Also, they're in no particular order of favourites etc. just random albums that I happen to love. It's just easier to number them and it looks better, dunnit?)

1.) Whatever People Say I am, That's What I'm Not - Arctic Monkeys
                                                     
 Track highlights: When The Sun Goes Down
                              Riot Van


https://www.youtube.com/user/ArcticMonkeys







2.) Carry On The Grudge - Jamie T

Track highlights: Peter
                            Rabbit Hole



https://www.youtube.com/user/JamieTVEVO





3.) This Is All Yours - Alt-J

Track highlights: Every Other Freckle
                            Left Hand Free



https://www.youtube.com/user/Altjband





4.) Royal Blood - Royal Blood

Track highlights: Loose Change
                            Better Strangers



https://www.youtube.com/user/royalblooduk





5.) Wanted On Voyage (Deluxe Edition) - George Ezra

Track highlights: It's Just My Skin
                            Did You Hear The Rain?
                            (and Drawing Board because the lyrics are the                                   best I've ever heard.)


https://www.youtube.com/user/GeorgeEzraVEVO



6.) You Need Me (EP) - Ed Sheeran

Track highlights: So
                             Be Like You



https://www.youtube.com/user/EdSheeran






7.) Scouting For Girls - Scouting For Girls

Track highlights: She's So Lovely
                             I Wish I Was James Bond



https://www.youtube.com/user/ScoutingForGirlsVEVO





8.) Smoke And Mirrors - Imagine Dragons

Track highlights: I'm So Sorry
                            Dream



https://www.youtube.com/user/ImagineDragonsVEVO





9.) American Beauty/American Psycho - Fall Out Boy

Track highlights: American Beauty/American Psycho
                            Centuries



https://www.youtube.com/user/FallOutBoyVEVO





10.) Love - The Beatles

Track highlights: Eleanor Rigby/Julia
                            Something/Blue Jay Way



https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4dqLAF7yT-_DqeYisQ001w





11.) Other People's Heartache Part 3 (mix-tape) - Bastille

Track highlights: Weapon (vs. Angel Haze vs. F-U-G-Z vs. Braque)
                             Remains (vs. Rag N Bone Man vs, Skunk                                          Anansie)


https://www.youtube.com/user/BastilleVEVO





12.) So Long, See You Tomorrow - Bombay Bicycle Club

Track highlights: Feel
                            Eyes Off You



https://www.youtube.com/user/BombayBicycleVEVO





13.) A Guide To Love, Loss & Desperation - The Wombats

Track highlights: Let's Dance To Joy Division
                            Here Comes The Anxiety



https://www.youtube.com/user/TheWOMBATS





14.) Automatic - Don Broco

Track highlights: Money Power Fame
                            You Wanna Know



https://www.youtube.com/user/DonBrocoVEVO





15.) The 1975 - The 1975

Track highlights: Sex
                            Girls


https://www.youtube.com/user/The1975VEVO






16.) The Trick To Life - The Hoosiers

Track highlights: Goodbye Mr. A
                             A Sadness Runs Through Him


https://www.youtube.com/user/thehoosiers






17.) Hozier - Hozier

Track highlights: In A Week (feat. Karen Cowley)
                            Jackie And Wilson


https://www.youtube.com/user/HozierVEVO






18.) X (Deluxe Edition) - Ed Sheeran

Track highlights: Take It Back
                             The Man


https://www.youtube.com/user/EdSheeran






19.) Babel - Mumford And Sons

Track highlights: Lover Of The Light
                            Babel


https://www.youtube.com/user/MumfordAndSonsVEVO






20.) BEYONCE - Beyonce

Track highlights: ***Flawless (feat. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie)
                            XO


https://www.youtube.com/user/beyonceVEVO







R.

Back To The Future

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So last Thursday I collected my AS level results. (For anybody not in the UK, or over the age of 30, that means I've got half of my A-levels*. Now I've said it, it seems pretty pointless to be honest.) But, anyway, they were a pretty big deal... and I got A B B C (woo!) But it didn't help that, before I went in to the hall to pick them up, I was greeted by hoards of teenagers sobbing because they've catastrophically failed and they've no idea what they're going to do with their lives. Thankfully, I was not one of those people.

*A-Levels are the qualifications we get in the UK after we've left high school at 16. After 16, we go into college/sixth form (depending on how posh the area you live in is) for 2 years - 16-18. Or some people go into Apprenticeships (Internships for people in the US).

Anyway, for a while, I had completely forgotten about my impending adulthood and was busy rolling in all the cash money dolla I've been getting for my new job. But on Thursday it hit me and, once the euphoria of 'holy shit, my life isn't going to crash and burn', dissolved and quickly turned into 'holy shit, my life is going to crash and burn because I'm a grown up now'. So I decided to turn my
attention back to the future (get it?) and sort myself out.

So, here's my life plan;

1.) Get into University (English Literature and Creative Writing combined degree yes please thank you).

2.) Survive University.

3.) Get a job (preferably as a Journalist or a publisher or whatever).

4.) Start making the cash money dolla.

5.) Write a frickin' book.

6.) Get that frickin' book published.

7.) Dress that book up in baby clothes and take it everywhere with me.

8.) When people ask 'Aw, can I see your baby?', say 'Yes, in Waterstones, WH Smiths and all good bookstores'.

9.) Fall in love and have kids or whatever.

10.) There isn't a 10th point, I didn't like leaving things on such an awkward number. But, I suppose, be happy or whatever.

So, yeah, I don't know whether this makes me an extremely boring person but a.) I like being organised and, b.) I like making lists.

R.

'Cool'

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When I was younger, I used to wear superhero t-shirts to nearly every non-uniform day. I had a really cool TARDIS satchel and Captain America badges. It was safe to say I didn't give a fuck. And this lack of fucks carried on into high school - for about a month or so. It was the end of September, meaning I'd been at there for around 3 weeks and, apart from the bad highlights in my hair and my persistence in wearing sparkly black plastic headbands, everything was good. But it was also the time of my first non-uniform day in a 'grown-up' school. So, like usual, I rocked up in my Spider-Man tee and, even though I'd abandoned the TARDIS bag at this point, I'd picked up some pretty cool TARDIS Vans instead. I was happy. I was wearing stuff that I loved.

But those few minutes of 'BITCHEZ LOOK AT MY AWESOME CLOTH' were over before you could say 'Stormageddon Dark Lord of all', because a big, bad, scary year 11 came up to me, laughed and called me 'weird'. That doesn't seem like a massive thing, but to a greasy, bespectacled 11-year-old, it was horrible. So I went home, picked out all of my now 'un-cool' t-shirts, and threw them to the back of my wardrobe. I went shopping that weekend and even made my mum buy me delicate little tank tops and jeggings (remember jeggings? They were the thing back in 2009) because that's what all my friends were wearing. I remember crying and asking why I couldn't like what all the other girls liked. What made watching Doctor Who 'un-cool' and listening to music that was way too old for you 'cool'?

For years I pretended to be somebody I wasn't. I took down all of my posters from my bedroom walls so that, when my friends came round, they wouldn't think I was weird too. I hung around with people who weren't really my friends. Well, they were my friends, but we had nothing in common. It was a forced and unnatural friendship. And when something that artificial begins to break down, people start to become nasty. I don't blame them, we were kids - we still are. But it wasn't until I realised that, that I actually found some people who were just as weird as I was. It's still sad, though, that it wasn't until year 11 that I regained my 'weirdness' and started adorning my tees again. Even if my new friends didn't like what I did, they cared. They cared about the things I was interested in. They didn't laugh, they asked questions. I was so confused. And then I realised that this is what friends should be like. And I can't be that bad, because I can't seem to get rid of them now.

(Now, don't get me wrong, myself and the people I used to hang around with never actually maliciously fell-out over anything. We just had conflicting interests and ways of dealing with things.)

But this is just something I wanted to say. Embrace the weird-ness. Don't ever stop liking something just because somebody tells you it's not 'cool'. Gloves, capes, masks! Superheroes are cool, man. (If somebody knows where that quote is from, I'll give you a gold star) This whole idea is something I lightly touched on in my last post. I talked about how, thanks to the internet, this 'nerdy' stuff has become more mainstream and 'acceptable'. And, you know, I don't mind being
labelled a 'nerd'. A nerd is somebody who is passionate about something. And, if you're not passionate about at least 1 thing, that means you're boring. And that means everyone is a nerd, apart from you - which makes you the weirdo.

So if you've ever made fun of someone for liking something 'un-cool'... well then, you're a dick.

R.

Just a small selection of my 'un-cool' t-shirts.

Marvel's Daredevil: Netflix Series Review

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I know I'm a bit late to the party on this one but I've only just finished the series so, forgive me. Or shut up.

So, the Netflix original series Daredevil stars British actor Charlie Cox - which I had a 'holy shit, really?' moment when I realised it's the same guy that's in that old film Stardust, and I've had Rule the World by Take That stuck in my head for the last three days. My quickie overall review for the series in four words would be 'Well... okay... that happened.' And for those of you who don't speak the language of the severely sleep-deprived due to an eighteen hour-long Harry Potter marathon, that roughly translates to 'It was pretty damn good'.

Charlie Cox's (Cox'? I don't know) portrayal of the blind lawyer turned vigilante, Matt Murdoch was pretty impressive. Quite a few people's interpretations of how blind people move and act are based on the fact that they've never seen a blind person in, well, person, and they base their characterisation on old videos of Stevie Wonder playing the piano. But Cox's (I'm going with that one. You'd never guess I was an English student) portrayal was subtle and accurate. So much so, I didn't recognise him until the sixth episode.

I also love how the young actor, Skylar Gaertner, portrayed the young blind Matt as I think it would've been extremely easy for such a young actor to go into over-acting mode when portraying such a delicate situation. You know you've done a good job when you leave such a good impression on the audience after only three episodes.

There are other actors in the series, obviously. Deborah Ann Woll's performance as Karen was also fantastic. However, I felt Eldon Henson's 'Foggy' - Matt's best friend and legal partner, was slightly disappointing. Don't get me wrong, Henson was great at the comedy side-of-things, but apart from the lols, I just wasn't convinced. And when his character did face dysphemic themes, there was always drink involved, meaning the humour was inappropriate when it just wasn't necessary.

Vincent D'Onoforio, who played Wilson Fisk (or Kingpin for fans of the graphic novels), a criminal mastermind, was also brilliant. He did a spectacular thing in which he managed to manipulate the audience into both hating and sympathizing with him all within the space of minutes of being on-screen. And, like Matt's younger self, the young actor, Cole Jenson's portrayal of the young Wilson was also extremely, sophisticatedly, fantastically mature.   

Also, the costume and set design for this series was incredible. I feel like design teams don't tend to get much credit for their work in most reviews, but they are definitely deserving of it in this case. Coming from media studies orientated roots, it's extremely difficult to let go of the ties I have to the physical appearance of something. Obviously, the final Daredevil costume reveal was incredible. But I'm not going to go into detail because of some hefty spoilers. And, as you know, it's very easy on the internet to become the object of global hatred.

I just say, if you're planning on binge-watching this thing - do it now. And then you can begin looking forward to amazingly intertwined plot points that most series don't manage to achieve nowadays. Meaning that, in other shows, three episodes in you've already predicted the climax of the entire show and you only continue watching because you've invested your time. This show isn't like that. You watch because you need to.

I can't praise this show enough, to be honest. And, even if you're not a superhero or Marvel fan, this show will still appeal to you. I remember when I was younger and I'd be made fun of for wearing Spider-Man t-shirts. But, now 'superhero' is becoming mainstream and I suggest you take advantage of that.

Now I'm going to watch Stardust and listen to some Take That.

R.

I Got A Job

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After quitting my last job in May for reasons we shall not go into, (because this is the internet and bad things happen here) I finally found another. I went for my trial shift yesterday, and as it was coming to a close, my boss asked if I could work again today. So I'm taking that as I got the job.

My tip for anyone looking for a job is to persevere with however you're approaching your scouting method. I mean, personally, sites like Indeed didn't really prove effective for me. I sent off a few applications for places like Debenhams and Pizza Express, but was turned down, mainly because there was no face-to-face interaction like there was when I handed in my CV in person. So my recommendation would be to do it the old-fashioned way and actually show your shiny, beautiful face to whoever your prospective employer may be.

And, also, when you put in your location on job sites and then ask to receive notifications for your city, you get results from bloody miles away! Within 5 miles, my arse. And the job that I've finally managed to get is only at the end of my village and it wasn't even on any sites. So, if you're sat there every day on your backside just waiting for  job that suits you to pop up into your emails, then you're not going to find a job. I'm an English student at college and I applied for a job at a hairdressers. You need to stop being picky - money is money.

So, this is an extremely short post because I just wanted to update my blog on my life developments, so I can look back at this as mature Rebecca and congratulate myself. A totally self-absorbed reason but, who am I kidding, I'm the only one that reads this shit.

R.

Lately

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Lately I've been dealing with a lot of annoying people. People who deserve a huge smack in the face. People who I, admittedly, hate because they have no idea just how smackable they actually are. And currently I am going through a phase of hating people - quite a few people, who speak out of turn, out of line and on things they have no right to comment on. I don't think social media helps that much. I mean, every day, I see people commenting on girl's posts and photos and telling them just how unattractive they are because they need to pluck their eyebrows or sort out their makeup. Or, sometimes even worse, commenting on girl's photos just to compliment them on their 'tits'. I mean, if you're setting out to find yourself a life partner, being a sleezy prick isn't going to help.

And who are you? What gives you the right to look at a girl's body and the only thing you see is a pair of 'great tits'. You know, there are plenty of other things to comment a girl on other than parts of her anatomy. And for those people saying that girls post these photos to gain attention which, undoubtedly, a small proportion does, but basing your experience of girls off of this small proportion isn't right. And there's nothing bad about wanting attention, it's when girls get obnoxious and self-absorbed about it that it starts becoming a problem. But, don't kid yourself, these girls are posting pictures of themselves because THEY think they look good. We are not doing it for your benefit, sweetheart. When we take a picture of ourselves in which we think we look good, it's a massive confidence boost in a society that has taught girls that it is a bad thing to say 'I look good'.

From when we were little, we were taught to deny compliments and self-shame. And I'm not saying this is our parent's fault, this is how they were brought up too. And it is one of the hardest things to do, to break out of a chain of psychological bearings that has lasted for so long. But we are part of an entirely different generation to our parents. We live in the generation of equality and chance. So, yes, I'm angry at those dickheads who speak out of line, but the good thing about this is, they are few. They're still living in a generation that no longer exists. And they know it. So they're grasping desperately at the edges and trying to hang on to something that's slowly fading out of existence and into the past where it belongs. And, as they grasping and scratching at these edges, they're the ones who are destroying it.

So whenever you see an ugly comment on a photo of yours just remind yourself that the person behind that keyboard is probably a scratty 12-year-old on their dad's laptop with PornHub minimized in the corner tab. And, to be honest, if the world cared about what little dicks like that said, we's have been through WW4 by now.

So I'm going to leave you with some amusing comments left on some of my photos, just to prove my point that half of the people on the internet are either clinically proven dumb or illiterate.

I don't need to explain this photo. I wouldn't be able to if I could.

So much tumblr

R.

It's Summer Or Whatever

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So, apparently, Britain is having its hottest heat-wave on record. And I've no idea what that means. What does 'on-record' mean? When did records begin? And, say, if 'records' began in 1924, why can't they just say 'Britain's hottest day since 1924'? People in Australia are looking at us and laughing because we're the nerds that can't handle 31 degree heat. I mean, it's ridiculous that I actually felt like a bad-ass yesterday because I went outside without sun-cream on at 12 o'clock. Since starting college last year, at least 5 different people have asked me if I'm naturally ginger because I'm 'just so pale'. Like yeah, bitch, I'm lacking melanin... and I'm allergic to fake tan so I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life, but don't feel sad for me. I'm capable of living a happy life, I can just buy one of those 'freckle sticks' from Topshop and do a full conversion.


I can honestly say that this is probably the first time I've actually felt excited for summer. Last year I was going through a 'nobody likes me, I have no friends and I'm going to die alone' phase. So I kind-of shot myself in the foot and didn't really make an effort to contact people. But, this year, I'm pretty sure I've met some people who are able to tolerate me for more than an hour at a time. So that's good, I guess.

I'm not even going on holiday this year. My parents are, and they're leaving me with the dog for a week while they hop off to Wales. I say 'leaving', but I refused to go with them. I did point out the fact that they could always choose not to go to the land of coal mines and sheep, (seriously, who calls Wales a holiday? My apologies to anyone from the valleys, but my parents' honeymoon was a camping trip in Wales. With me.) because I'm going to possibly starve without them and burn the house down or poison the dog or something. I'm not, I can actually cook pretty well and I think they know that. I think that's why it was a 5 day holiday, and now it's 8.

I've also been going to a few university open days this last month, and it's safe to say I'm excited, but also pretty damn scared. I also found out that the halls of residence where I might be staying in, is an old mental asylum. I've looked online and there's a tonne of sites and chats warning people away because of ghosts and shit... but it's only £70 a week, so who's arguing? There's an on-site gym that's only £70 for the whole semester. And there's a club and little cinema and everything.

I was also in an English Literature talk with my cousin, who's taking graphic design, and the guy asked for all the parents to leave. So my cousin looks at me and says 'Should I leave? I want to see what he does.' So he stays sat there in a room of about 20 people, and the professor starts reading Poe, and then asks us to come up with some ideas about each stanza. So we group up with this girl, and my cousin just sits there confused as hell. After 5 minutes, the professor turns to us and starts asking people questions. I tell you, the look of fear in my cousin's eyes when the guy pointed at us and said 'What do you think about the trochaic structure of the 4th stanza?' was photo-worthy. So he starts to panic, lifts his hands up and says, 'I'M DOING A DEGREE IN PRODUCT DESIGN'. Then, the girl we were working with leans over my shoulder and whispers creepily 'You don't belong here'.

I'm scared to go back. I'm scared I walked into some Edgar Allan Poe cult and didn't realise it. I loved it, it was the best uni I've visited and I'd pay money, a large amount of money, to watch my cousin look like that again.

Another thing, a couple of posts back, I mentioned doing a feature where I suggested a TV program or something at the end... yeah... that didn't last long. But I'm watching the U.S. Office at the moment and it's pretty damn good. So go watch that if you have Netflix, or buy the box set or something. Don't go searching for free downloads or anything. I'm in no way suggesting you do that. Nope. Not at all.

R.

It's That Time Again

It's that time again. Time for another improvised poem-thing. The following poem-thing is written on a subject I feel extremely passionate about, and I am not, in any way, 'asking for attention', as I have never personally experienced anything that I'm about to talk about. My wish is to simply raise awareness for the people for whom this subject matter effects or is relevant to. And to ask anybody who knows somebody like this to simply tell them that you're there to listen. And to anybody who is going through something like this to, please, tell someone. (I will leave numbers and links for hotlines etc. below) I am also not insinuating that women are the only ones who suffer from rape/sexual assault, but this poem is written in light of some recent news in the UK about a young girl living very close to home. (I will also leave a link to the news article below)

Attract

If you believe in this stuff,
We're all God's creations
But we even brush past someone,
Without a written invitation?

You know, I'm all for women's rights
I'm a feminist, right here
And I'll stand up for anyone,
Gay, bi or queer.

But people who say the don't like history,
Because it means 'his story'
Need to get over themselves,
Because you're so fucking boring.

I'd be lying if I said,
We haven't moved forward
If we said we could be gay,
Without a fucking chorus.

But when people say 'feminist',
It attracts 'bad attention'
But it still fill up our archives,
Our statuses and mentions.

Because, online, we're different people
It's not hard to realise
But you've never seen something twist,
Behind your parents' eyes-

When you tell them that you're gay,
You were attacked or assaulted
When they don't know how to take it
When it turns into your fault and-

They ask you what you were wearing
'How short was your skirt?'
'Didn't you scream at all?'
And when you show them the dirt

You're the little whore girl,
Who craved bad attention
Just to fill up her archive,
Her statuses and mentions.

We live in a society,
That teaches girls not to get raped
Instead of waking men up,
With the smell of their mistakes.

Samaritans website (UK): http://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you?gclid=CjwKEAjw2ImsBRCnjq70n_amv14SJAChXijNuXUGa24lx-KMGEC2CaTq6Lj3pnbcHIZf9gjjiojnaBoChifw_wcB

NHS Live Well website and helpline (UK + IRL): http://www.nhs.uk/Livewell/Sexualhealth/Pages/Sexualassault.aspx

RAINN (US): https://www.rainn.org/get-help/national-sexual-assault-hotline

Daily Mail article: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3052548/Teenager-dragged-bus-stop-brutally-raped-breaks-silence-tell-t-sleep-trauma-assault-police-release-new-efit-try-catch-attacker.html


R.