Friday, 30 October 2015

Perhaps We Should Keep Assuming That I've Written Something Logical Here

You know, if you think about it, humans are really rather awesome?
Except for Pedro. I hate Pedro. Pedro ruins everything. 
SCREW YOU PEDRO... AMATEUR!!!!



 Halloween is kind of like that one person in your class that you don't necessarily like or wish to ever hold a conversation with, but still have to act civil towards. Civil in this case means anxiously switching off all of the lights and praying that people don't acknowledge the existence of your house.

 Halloween to me generally, consists of  hurriedly scurrying across the room at unnatural angles to avoid my shadow being seen by trick-or-treaters and maintaining complete silence for the entire duration of the night.  However, I think it's safe to say that 50 percent of the time I fail miserably and end up lying on the floor in some contorted position trying to shuffle my way across the room in complete darkness. And if you were ever wondering exactly how long it takes a 5 foot child to shuffle across approximately 2.5 meters of wood flooring at an unbelievably fast pace, it's 30 seconds. 30 seconds minus the time she takes to contemplate how stupid she's being, if there's any snacks in the cupboard, how dirty the floor is and how exactly she can shuffle that fast despite being the slowest person in her P.E class.

It's kind of like how I avoid the postman. Except with him I like to think that we have an understanding.  He knocks. I hurriedly sprint up the stairs and wait a while whilst he grows progressively impatient. Then eventually he finds a way to post the mail. It's a codependent relationship but he's fine with it. Probably.

And I guess what you can take from all of this is that people just need to stop expecting me to answer the door or act in a rational way towards postmen.

In the past week or so I've:
Drunk 7 cups of tea. Consumed multiple plantain chips. Drafted one post. Stolen a turtle. Attended parents evening. Watched a 30 second fight from a far. Refused to risk my life crossing a busy road to witness the fight up close. Added Mindy Kaling's new(ish) book to my wishlist. Dropped two orange slices. Tried to catch two orange slices. Clung to the walls of school corridors. Almost got hit by a glue stick. Watched almost all of charlieissocoollike's YouTube videos. Contemplated home schooling. Received a lecture from my mama. Stopped contemplating homeschooling. Bought some songs. Stalked Instagram. Eaten a small piece of southern fried chicken and tried to convince my self that I wasn't hurt by the portion size. Sat through a long assembly. Obsessed over Adele's new song. Attempted a 12 mark sociology question and lost all faith in myself. Learnt how to calculate the equation of a line perpendicular to another. Borrowed a science book. Lost all ability to construct a sentence momentarily. Watched my English teacher dad dance to a 1930s song. Learnt about Of Mice And Men and why not to let Lennie tend rabbits. Fried some plantains. Had my ears graced by beautiful song renditions whilst sat in my business class. Cried a little. Wondered how easy it would be to move to America and start a talk show, and bought a rubber.


That's pretty much it.

Sunday, 25 October 2015

I Hope My Headteacher Reads This (Or Not. Probably Not.)

I was originally going to title this High School Savagery but that sounded too cannibalistic so...

 If I'm being honest here, I'm probably going to fail sociology.
My chances of passing are like that of a blind dog with rheumatism successfully walking a 500m tight rope across a busy speedway.




It becomes apparent to a person, somewhere between their 3rd and 7th sociology class, that they are destined to fail. In fact it becomes so ridiculously apparent that the simple act of thinking about it drives them to the brink of insanity. Like the metaphorical speeding car hurtling rapidly towards you, the prospect of failure is just one of those things that can't be deflected. It's the figurative elephant in the room. Except this time the elephants dressed in a green tutu and a purple windbreaker, alternating between intense ASAP Rocky raps and terrible pop song renditions. It's simply unavoidable. And that's the terrifying thing.

At first everything seems fine. You sit there somewhat confident of yourself and blissfully unaware of the train wreck that's about to take place 5 classes in. Your teacher's incredibly nice (and way more than she should be) and it's almost faultless. Then all of a sudden everything changes. It's slow at first ( kind of how a fire starts) and then it bursts into flames. You see, the moment you begin to understand that maybe your class isn't as into this subject as you are, is the exact instant that you know your never going to reach your full potential. And yes you could ask for extra work and put in endless hours of revision outside of class but it's rather counter intuitive if you go into it not knowing what your actually doing. You leave way more confused then you did entering and I'm certain that is not the purpose of revision. 

It's pretty much safe to say that I have no idea of what I'm doing in that class. People in that class may dispute that but then again it's easy to fake intelligence when you've got a book in front of you.
It's not even the teachers fault. It would be easy if it was. I could blame it on their inability to engage students or their lack of knowledge. I could say that they aren't teaching us the right things or their not giving us anything to work with. But the truth is that I can't say any of those things. The real fault is the students

It's really not until you enter Secondary school that you understand the lack of respect that a child can show someone. High schoolers are complete savages and it's really unnerving. It frightens me that high school can make you feel just so...scared. But you know what's scarier? You know what really gets me down? It's seeing someone intentionally go out of their way to shove you into the side of the corridor and laugh about it like what they've done is something commendable or humorous. It's seeing someone call a teacher a bitch and not care about it. It's seeing the amount of work a teacher put into a lesson just to have it ruined and knowing that they have to try even though sometimes you think that they're better off giving up. It's seeing a teacher almost lose their voice trying to control a class. Its seeing a child not that much older than you intentionally pick up a chair and forcefully hurl it at someone with the aim of hitting them and then smile afterwards. Because somehow it's become completely acceptable to do that now a days, right? It's fine to hit someone with a chair because they're not like you. Isn't that the mentality? They don't look like you, act like you, have the same status as you. They've got something wrong with them so that validates you throwing a chair at them. It completely validates you wanting to hurt them for no other reason than they're nothing like you and the group of bullies you call your friends.  

What scares me the most is feeling like the next few years of my life are going to be filled with nothing but this and that there's no way to stop it because I'm simply just a 13 year old girl among a crowd of teens.

And that's the worst feeling there is.

But umm, on the bright side, at least the school dinners are decent right?

I don't know if you can relate to this or not but comment down below your opinions on High school and maybe we can indulge on the matter together. Like a tea party but more rant filled and with a lot less tea and biscuits.

And although it may not seem like it, I am genuinely scared that I'm going to fail my GCSE's. I'm not even in year 11 yet! Please send help!!!!! 

Thursday, 22 October 2015

I Practically Ate My First Kiss

If first kisses are anything to go by, my love life is going to be a serious tragedy.

Origin

The general assumption when you tell someone about a first kiss is that it's with...well...you know?...an actual human. It's like how everyone just assumes your wearing socks or that you voluntarily choose to leave the house. In my case however, your assumption would be completely wrong. Utterly, severely wrong. So, so, so, so wrong. Wrong to the extent of it being a disgrace. So wrong it validates me laughing at you, shoving a decapitated plastic head into your face and...
Well ultimately you'd just be incorrect about it.

Which prompts me to warn you, that if you're ever in a science class and your science teacher starts telling you the story of how he found a guy unconscious and barely breathing on the top of a hill, it's probably leading to a CPR class and an intense make out session with a plastic dummy.

That coincidentally is exactly how my science class had started that Friday. And by coincidentally, I kid of course. This is no coincidence.

 You see, it's in the first few minutes of entering my biology lesson that you realise two things:
1) This isn't really a biology lesson.
2) Orange is a depressing colour in terms of a4 science books.

Friday's biology class is anything but conventional. So I suppose I should have known how weird it would get when the teacher told us we'd be doing something different.

The time I snogged a CPR dummy
There are 7 things that go through your mind when resuscitating a CPR dummy.

1)Boobs would be a total nuisance during this.
2)My lips are really dry.
3)How do I know he's not dead?
4) I'm pretty sure I just broke its cranium.
5)This is awkward. This is extremely awkward!
6) I think it's breathing! Why is it breathing?
7) How many people have had their lips on this?!

The moment that a person begins wrapping their lips around the mouth of an inflated human head  is the moment that it becomes increasingly apparent to that person that their first kiss story will forever be referred to as the time I snogged a CPR dummy. The point at which the person begins wiping down the mouth of the dummy is where they begin attempting to relieve themselves of the memory. But attempting to forget the fact that you've just full on snogged a dummy is rather hard. Mainly because you've just snogged an inanimate object. Partially because you had to hold it down in order to do it. And slightly because you had to wipe its mouth down with alcohol wipes immediately after it.  Which doesn't really scream confidence to someone encasing their lips around the mouth of a fake being.

I don't even think it could be considered real kissing. For one, I was practically swallowing the thing and  for two...well the dummy didn't really seem all that into it. It was like that scene out of snow white when the prince kisses her awake. But in this case instead of a gentle kiss, I was practically eating its mouth whilst aggressively pushing down on its chest with the heel of my palm.  This all whilst surrounded by 29 other students doing the exact same thing. Which is a beautiful thing really. That is until you realise that the person to diagonally across from you is really going for it. That reader, is the moment you start to mumble Bible verses under your breath.

And that my friend is how it happened. 

Not that it has any relevance to this post but the amount of times I've googled Jace Norman is borderline obsessive. Oh, and my next door neighbour is still trying to kill me so all in all everything's been pretty good so far.

Saturday, 17 October 2015

Let's Assume That I've Written Something Logical Here

You never really see the manic pixie dream guy, do you?

Being with Jace was like standing in the middle of raging wildfire. He was vibrant. Fast. Never one to stay around for long but when he did he was nothing but trouble. Trouble in the good way of course. He never started any fights or anything, he just fooled around a little.
Sometimes though, with Jace,  you got burnt. Almost like the way a child does when they get too close to a burning candle. Except with Jace it was more like walking aimlessly into a burning building. He was like a human safety hazard but the type you wouldn't really mind breaking a leg for or risking your life for. Somehow he made it seem as if you'd leave with nothing but a slight graze to the knee.

Jace was the type of guy who'd tell you the stars were nothing but an arm stretch away and dramatically gesture with his hands to clarify that he was right. He was never right. He spoke in away that made no sense to anyone but him, yet everyone would stop just to listen to his stories. The boy was mad but he hid it well. Sort of like how you try and hide your vegetables as a child just to get out of eating them. He'd simply just quote a Beatles song and instantly it seemed like he had everything put together. In reality though he was broken. And broken was what he'd never hoped to be.

One thing you should know about me is that I will never fully finish any piece of fiction that I ever write. It's okay though, I'm going to patent it so that it seems like it's intentional and not just a result of my high level rasphutility.

I've been blogging for almost a year now and the idea of that slightly terrifies me. Mainly because it's now dawned on me that I've spent almost a year using my blog as a way of procrastination and also because when I grow up there's a permanent reminder of my awkward youth. Which isn't really all that bad until you take into consideration how awkward I actually am. A good comparison would be to that of a panda. Or more specifically, this panda.

Link

This is yet again one of those unstructured posts where I'm simply just rambling. Is there a point in this? No. Am I writing this to avoid doing revision? Probably. Should I stop asking you questions and then answering them for you? Yes.

I'm also pretty certain my next door neighbor is trying to kill me. And I can tell because they're making no effort to hide it. I'm not even remotely kidding here. They are legitimately trying to gas me. I know this because there's a really strong smell of smoke coming from the walls and unless I'm completely mistaken, walls don't voluntarily emit smoke. It's not even a subtle tobacco smell, you know, the slight whiff of lung killer that occasionally hits you as you walk past a smoker? It's more like the smell of burning plastic but the type that wraps around your lungs and chokes you even when all the windows are open and you're standing in the middle of an open door. I've breathed in enough second hand smoke to last me a life time in the time that it's taken me to write this post and that is scary. So if you don't see a post from me for more than two weeks, just know that it's probably because of severe smoke inhalation.

Sunday, 11 October 2015

The Boltonatic


When I was 9 I had the biggest crush on Zac Efron. Admittedly it was more like a superficial infatuation as apposed to a genuine attraction to him as a person (or his character) but nevertheless I crushed hard. The idea of a guy who could both simultaneously sing and play basketball whilst also dancing, was weirdly appealing to a 9 year old me. Even despite the complete lack of practicality of such things. (As a 13 year old I am now able to distinguish how stupid this would be applied to a real life game scenario. Nine year old me didn't. 9 year old me was what some would call a fantasist.)

Troy Bolton was hot. He could sing, he could dance and he could play basketball. 4 amazing qualities nine year old me couldn't resist about this fictional Caucasian male. There was no doubt in my mind that Troy was put on this Earth specifically to swoop me off my feet and confess his undying love to me through the medium of theatrical prose and song. It had never crossed my mind that perhaps Troy Bolton was just a character. To me Zac Efron and Troy Bolton were one. Like a once unified Pangea prior to its continental drift. Gabriella on the other hand was simply just there. There merely to fill my place whilst Troy found a way to track me down. Their dynamic, however spectacular it was, was always going to be sub par compared to what Troy and I could have.

Eventually my infatuation had assumed the form of a stable obsession. I had somehow manged to force persuade my parents to buy me a High School Musical dance mat and you better believe I danced the heck out of that mat. I was quite the pro if I'm being honest. That is if  being a pro consists of being able to step left, right, forwards or backwards when signaled to by flashing colored lights. This all whilst listening to the distorted sound of High School Musical tracks. ( I should include that there was only four, so by the time I'd grown tired of the mat, I'd also subconsciously learnt 4 songs and was finding it rather difficult to forget them.)

Troy Bolton still remained in  the position of my exemplar male. He was what the male species was designed to be in the mind of a vocally self repressed nine year old. Except when they were replicating him, they screwed with the genetics and ruined everything. (They had one job. One job!!) I imagined that one day he'd appear wearing a red jersey, singing the lyrics of a Whitney Houston song to me whilst he effortlessly carried me away into the sunset. When I say imagined, I mean consistently dreamt. It was bad. Like 'vicious wildfire spreading rapidly through an extremely populated town' bad Especially now that I realize how illegal that is and how morally wrong it would be to dump a perfectly suitable age appropriate teen in the pursuit of a 9 year old girl.

Troy never did find me and after a while I forgot about him. It was like the prepubescent equivalent to an intense break up. Initially I was devastated, but after ploughing my way through collections of unhealthy food and developing multiple new obsession, he was nothing but a memory.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

The 13 Types Of People You'll Meet In The Lunch Line

The school lunch lines are something of a struggle. With more than a hundred teens continuously standing and shuffling themselves in various directions within this structure:



it becomes rather difficult to be in such place. A human cesspit of hunger and despair if you wish.
Just like school itself there are a variation of people you will meet in a school lunch line. All possibly due to the fact that they intend on cutting in front of you and not that they hope to familiarize themselves with you. Here are the 13 types of people you'll meet in a lunch line.

1) The Co-dependence
The person that uses you to get into the line. Often pretending to engage in casual conversation with you as they slide themselves in front. The only thing is...well you barely know this person. It's simply by association (you know a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a cousins uncle's friend) that they know you actually exist and don't doubt for a second that they won't use that to push in front of you. The Co-dependence usually acts way too nice and will most likely allow his or her five other friends in front of them. They're like that one annoying fruit fly. Never there till there's food around.

2) The Magician
The person that randomly pops out of nowhere. They're like muted speakers or faulty wind up toys. They do not speak and nor do they make any noticeable movements. Yet they still manage to end up five places in front of you despite them being at the end of the line only moments ago.

3) The Conversation- a.k.a The Distraction
The student that constantly talks in an attempt to completely disorientate you and thus have enough time to get in front of you before you realize what they've done.

4) The Glider- a.k.a The Navigation
The person that finds the most elaborate path way to get to the front of the line.

The path of a Glider

The Glider has a certain elegance to them, they execute the human swerve (The act of moving quickly around a person with the least amount of physical contact possible.) perfectly weaving in and out of bodies to make their way in front.

5) The I Don't Care
The person who simply doesn't give a damn.

6) The Smooth Talker
The person who somehow manages to get their way in front through the simple act of compliments. They're over zealous and cloying but they have game. Lots and lots of game.

7) The Polite One
The person who apologizes for cutting in and genuinely means it. *Cough* Unlike the other 300 students. *cough*

8) The Authority
 The person who thinks that just because they're in the year above you that they have the right to cut in front of you. We should probably take into consideration that this person is also the rudest person to ever walk the Earth just so we can fully appreciate the  sheer jerkosity of their being.

9) The Squad
The group of students who are practically inseparable. Well at least, that's how it seems. Judging by their inability to line up individually and their keenness to cut in altogether at once, it sounds like a logical theory.


10) The Awkward Turtle- a.k.a Me
I've only ever cut line 3 times in my entire High School career. The times I have done I've been riddled with guilt for several hours after it.
The Awkward Turtle is what can only be compared to a shy 4 year old on sugar. They're not quite sure what they're doing and exactly why they're doing it.

11) The Shover
The person that demonstrates a complete lack of respect to the people around them and feels the need to aggressively shove people as they walk past.

12) The Please Don't Tattle
The person who really wants to push in but doesn't want to get caught and so persistently asks each person as they go by not to tell anyone. Which is kind of counter-intuitive because there's more of a chance that people will actually notice you cutting the line.

13) The I Will Ruin You- a.k.a The Intimidation
The person that you simply don't want to mess with. It's impossible to make the distinction between whether they're  just hungry or seriously contemplating sucking the life out of you.

Thank you for reading this and I also want to thank my friends Jennifer and Lucy for helping me come up with these ideas whilst we stood awkwardly in the middle of the lunch line.