Life, yeah?

In the wake of some recent events, I think it's only necessary to try and work my way through some things, to understand the "Why?"'s and "What"'s.

Right now, we're living in a time that is obsessed with looks, and this so-called 'beauty'. Good looks are the be all and end all of life for the majority of people in the modern world, and it's not right. I am a "victim" of this culture and so are people considerably younger than I am and, frankly, I find it sickening. I can understand that those in the media -need- stories that people will be interested in; those that people want to see or hear about. However, criticizing something so personal as someone's body is wrong. If it's a concern for people who genuinely believe someone is damaging their health by being considerably over or underweight, then I can't complain if it benefits the well-being of the person, even though I still don't fully agree with the method undertaken. What I find hard to understand is when people are criticized unnecessarily. When did it become alright to criticize people for being a size 12, or moreover, a size 10? I maybe will never fully understand this, but why? Why, when someone is potentially at their healthiest, must people create this "Anything other than size 0 is bad and ugly" frenzy? Being so emaciated is NOT beautiful, nor is it healthy. We take for granted how our bodies work, and what they need to do keep working. Consciously, and intentionally starving yourself to the point of malnourishment is too much of a common occurrence. Highly influenced females are being bombarded with images of these twigs-with-heads, and are brainwashed into thinking that those images are desirable, or 'ideal'. And the truth is, they aren't.

They then see a picture of a celebrity who isn't as thin as the aforementioned twig, and so they are labelled "Fat". The response? Rapid weight loss. Despite that, they are then seen as too thin, and people start to ask questions. It's a vicious circle, and it isn't showing any signs of change. I am never the one to be on the side of Jessica Simpson, but this must be said. Over the last five years, her size has changed drastically, from being a svelte UK size 6-8, to a curvy UK size 14 of more recent times. Yet people found it necessary to ridicule her for being too thin, so she did something about it, and now people ridicule her for being a "whale". She says herself, "Curves are better. I don't get the whole rail thing. It's not good for your heart, it's not good for your mind; it's emotionally destructive, it really is.". I couldn't agree with that more. Why can't we be happy about curves? They're natural, they're beautiful, and you know what? They're never going away.

Good on you, Whitney.
 

A momentous occasion, or just a needless observation?

The end, or the beginning
Whichever way you look at it, happy new year :]

How can I even describe the Zirnis?

She is the chacarron in my frustrum.
She is the jalf half of my giraffe.
She is the rape in grape.

She is the shol.
She can say "Jun" 6.3 times per second.
She illustrates for the StickManGacktFiles.
And she beat the grandma-washing dragon.

She proposed in maths.
Trousers. Ass.
 

'Nuff said.

I feel obliged to share:
 

"25 minutes to 4, and I am part-way through a maths test. So why am I writing if I should be doing maths? Because it calls for it. I don't know how other minds work, but when a class is silent and the ticking of the clock is growing louder, driving you to wits end, I want to go to another place, where I am not confined by another's will and subjected to a seconds tick. Somewhere I have my own freedom to express whatever it may be without so much as a second thought to what I am saying or who might come across it.

I try not to alienate people.

As to where this is going, I have no idea.

I keep glancing over to the maths paper, debating whether I want to attempt another question or not.
...Who am I kidding? I've well and truly given up. But no matter; Sometimes mistakes can help you to learn. I've made this mistake before but I think doing it again has reinforced its effect. 

I am too stupid to get away with not revising. End of discussion.

What will I do once I get home? I guess I must assume the role of both the conscientious mother and the rebellious teenager. A paradox, however entertaining.
My mother decided she would go away for a week, and tell me and my father the day before she left, i.e., today. Granted, she only decided yesterday morning, I am still quite miffed at her timing. This test is the second one I have had, in a vast line of tests planned for the future. This weekend, I was planning on redeeming my self-belief by going through all the work I have done up to the present day of my A-levels, and rewrite my notes in a more concise and mind-numbing 'Revision Folder', comprising of blood, sweat, more blood, and an ocean of tears."
 

Then, the test ended.

Sometimes, it's nice to know your life isn't the only one that's messed up.

Prior to Friday morning, I was under the impression my family and my life couldn't be more abnormal, and we were the only ones. Even the relatively simple, straightforward concepts in life were hard to grasp. But now I know that's far from the truth.

The people you thought you knew are the ones with the hidden past. You realise you share more in common with them than anyone would've ever thought possible. I wonder, is this a good thing? I couldn't say for sure.

Over time, the abnormalities just become normalities. It still affects you in the exact same way as it always has done, and always will. Just now, you expect it. It becomes part of your daily, weekly, or monthly routine. It merges with the rest of your life and is accepted for what it is.

You observe others, albeit subconsciously, and see they don't have that 'thread'. On the outside, nobody else does. You don't bring it up just in case of the reaction you may cause but really, you just want to know.

Whether it's something minor, or even something major, everybody has that one hidden thing. Nobody can say they don't; Nobody has a perfect life, no matter how much you seem to believe so.

It started with "So, do you have any secrets?"

I wouldn't call them secrets, they were just my hidden truths: Facts about my life that were -and are- unnecessary for public knowledge.

An exchange of intricate details, two hours and a heartfelt hug later, and everything's changed.

People are viewed in a different light. A better light.

It brings you closer. But now, your threads are bare.

 

Do you take that risk to reap the reward, or do you continue as life is, not acknowledging the half of it but knowing what to expect, and the security that comes with that?

It's too early to give a definitive answer, but a weight has been lifted.
 

Well. Writing this entry has been a long project. Since whenever the last entry I wrote was, too much has happened.

Way too much.

Some were good things, some not-so-good.

The not-so-good things first, I think. Get the morbid, sinister, possibly cynical and maybe just plain mean things out of the way, no?

The latest 'bad' thing to have gone on in my life is the death of one of my cousins.

Charles Junior Hendricks, or CJ. The 24th teenage murder victim in London. I know that things like this happen every day, and not just in London, but it really hits home when it's someone you know. Like the world just got that little bit smaller. You want to be able to do something, but you can't on your own. The government show concern, but it never lasts. Nearly all of the teenagers who have been murdered on the streets of London, including CJ, have been innocent. This makes no difference to the way the crime is treated, I understand that. But if they were innocent; why? What was the point? He was killed in cold blood, along with 23 others. I can't forget that, nor ever forgive it.

And so, the good news to follow that?
There's plenty of good news. Starting with the earliest, I'm glad to say those loathed GCSE's are well and truly out of the way,  I was surprised [pleasantly (Y)] by my results and now I'm in 6th Form. Lovely. But this is good news, so the good news is I'm enjoying it! Everything's changed, and generally, it just makes life easier.

That, coupled with a very special guy [<3], has kept me at the happiest I've been in quite some time :]

To go back even earlier than the start of 6th form; Results day. 21st August 2008. Gah, the horrors of that morning. Looking a state, not being able to breathe, then finally getting to school, being swarmed by teachers congratulating you before you've even been handed your envelope, and then having the Head's husband take pictures of you in 'natural poses'. *Cough* Abby and Anna.

Speaking of which, those two made the aftermath of results inexplicably fun. Oh, Arj, Jit and Zirn...

Who knew McDonalds could provide so many hours of fun?

Spying on people, eating food [ORLY?], raping the 55-Year old farmer, and drawing genitalia on a cow.

Nervous Breakdown.

Yes

It's a shame the scanner isn't big enough, otherwise I think the cow would've been a great way to add a touch of "Ooh" to a quite simple page.

I wonder...

As any person would know, there are some school subjects in this world which are irrelevant to you, yourself. Everyone has experienced it at least once.

Over the past two years, I've observed this occurrence unfolding in the lives of 117 other individuals like myself; working our best for the dreams we want to achieve, only to be held back by the compulsory and frankly ridiculous subjects.

Let's work our way down my little list, shall we? Beginning with the most loathed subject I have ever had the misfortune to come across: Chemistry.

Before I start, I must say that I'm not discrediting any of these subjects [Well...]. For all I know, they may be your favourite[s]. If that is the case, you need psychiatric help. Fast.


So chemistry. The lesson that claims to be the inventor of the whole entire universe, and every little speck contained in it. Chemistry has a fetish. To spoil everyones fun by running up to every conceivable item and writing in giant capital letters "HANDS OFF MY ATOMS" in a thick black marker, just in case "them over in physics" steal their glory one day. To me, this couldn't be further from my idea of education. If you're going to teach me and I'm going to pay for it, please make it useful. When in my inherently long life will I ever need to know that calcium has a charge or that such horrendous atrocities like 2,3-dimethylhexane exist in this world? The answer is, I won't. Ever. I don't want to be a chemist, or anything remotely similar to a chemist. I was forced into it by the temptation of Triple Science; the next step up from Double. I won't deny though that chemistry has taught me some vital things; Don't ever lick your fingers if you've touched acid. Don't throw a whole roll of magnesium ribbon into a bunsen burner and never ever give your teachers a toy from a Happy Meal. If they're above the age of 35, they'll love you for it. More-so if they have a three year old grandchild. Being friendly to a chemistry teacher is like agreeing to your death; they'll always pick you -their new favourite pupil- to answer those indescribably difficult questions that nobody can answer. Including you. Eventually, they'll hate you again for showing them up and you'll come to realise just how pointless it was to waste your limited edition Spongebob Squarepants toy on them.

Moving on from the joys of chemistry, we have the joys of french. I don't have many bones to pick with french.  Just one rather depressing one; Oral.

I understand [Or claim to understand] the importance of being able to speak another language, but realistically, if I ever went to France [which I've done twice] and wished to engage in 'General Conversation' with a local [which I don't want to do], I wouldn't expect them to ask me about what household chores I do or to describe the attributes of my best friend. It's just plain stalkerish. I dread to think that is the impression my school has about the french.
Yes, that means my french teacher isn't french herself. If I'm not mistaken, she's italian...


The next subject [French underwent some serious liposuction] is...*Drum roll*

Maths.
More precisely; Algebra.

Most -if not all- of algebra is pointless. Don't get me wrong, I have no qualms about how relevant maths can be to life. I'm even [stupidly] taking it for A-Level. But algebra. A l g e b r a. Questions like "What is the height of Flagpole X if the distance from the base to Point A is 6.2m and the angle from A = 35°?"
...
WHY?!
If you've measured the distance to point A, why not just measure the height of the flagpole itself? Maths is one of the many subjects that call out to you from dark alleyways, saying "We taught you everything you needed to know when you were five. Now we're just stealing away your brains lifespace"

I'd rather not, thank you. I quite like my lifespace.


So.
Why study subjects that won't have an impact on your life? I don't buy it when people say "You need to study them because all subjects are related to each other."
It's true, they are.
But if I needed to know about certain elements for my Design and Technology lessons, they'll teach me about it. I don't need to study a whole other subject to help me with a fraction of another...
I do not wish to grow up into the world of chemistry, nor do I wish to become a mathematician at any point. What I want to become doesn't require the Periodic Table or the Cosine Rule.
With that said, I'm relatively impartial on most of my remaining subjects. Especially those subjects I chose. I have no right to talk about subjects like Geography. I chose it and I brought that torture upon myself. Bully for me.

With that pretty much covered [and my brain exasperated] I shall begin my revision.

Perhaps I'll kick off with chemistry...

Ohh, isn't this lovely?
It's my first entry! *Wild cheers from the impatient crowd*
...
Okay, so maybe that's slightly exaggerating it, but at least I'm fulfilling something I said I'd do nearly two months ago.

So, an average life of an average teenager?
Basically a randomly chosen update on the life of me.
Mainly for my own gain, but for anybody else who wishes to numb their brain with nonsensical ramblings and occasionally obscure insights into an otherwise simple lifestyle; I wake up, I go to school, I come home, I sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat...

Unfortunately, in three weeks time I'll be undergoing the mental and physical torture "they" - That is, the sadists who take extreme pleasure out of putting big fat F's on a years worth of a crying childs work-- like to disguise as GCSEs. So you might say that I should be studying rather than doing what I am now. Correct, you are. Handily for me, it's a friday and I've had a long week [Five days, to be precise], so I deserve to be able to sit here, eat a bowl of jelly and ice cream and type away to my hearts content, simply ignoring the exorbitant amounts of past papers and specimens I've been lumped with for the weekend. Hooray. That's Schoolwork: 1 Social Life: 0.

I've been racking my brain for the last two hours now trying to remember any of this day to start filling this in. As you can tell, it's not working. I'm going to call it a day, and watch some televisual goodness.