Random Chat

I write this while listening to 'Blood on the Tracks' on my record player, in my grimy student kitchen having only eaten four digestives all day. I have no idea what this is going to turn into but sometimes they can be the best blog posts. Obviously I haven't been writing much recently, and the last thing I did write wasn't seen by many people which made me realise that I'm distancing myself a bit from my blog - which I don't want to happen. I love writing. I love reading other blog posts. I love looking back at my own blog posts and laughing at my, slightly depressing, and melodramatic teenage self'; but we all go through it. I remember when I got messages from you guys saying that you understood what I was going through and I felt like I was a martyr for my generation, despite only getting these messages from a handful of girls. That was enough though. I thought I had realised my calling, then I realised I couldn't get any real money out of this; I'm never going to be the next 'Zoella' (first of all, my hair tutorials would be me brushing my hair). Now I'm at University watching everyone else look like they know what they want to do, getting the right experience, and I spend most of my time in my bedroom putting off getting a job just in case it might get in the way of essay writing(!)

So, it seems that I've finished my first term at University and it still feels very strange. It also turns out that my worries are still exactly the same; I have no idea what I want to do with my life and it looks like everyone around me does. I like to hope that they're the same as me but University is full of people who have their head on straight and are aiming towards a goal they (or their parents) have wanted them to do since they were eight years old. While they charge towards that goal, I stay in doors and watch two or three episodes of Gilmore Girls in one night.

I guess I must think that everything will just work out, but deep down I know it won't. Just getting your degree works for no one, unless your dad happens to be Clint Eastwood or your mum's Meryl Streep. Sadly, neither are my parents. What I'm trying to say is it's not what you know, but I'm really trying to fight that. I want to know, I want to be educated, I want to be cultured. What's wrong with that? I have grown up in a family that emphasises the importance of education (both my parents are English teachers), but not only schooling education, life education. Life education, in the sense that it's important to be cultured and artistic. As my ultimate gal, Taylor Swift says, 'Life is just a classroom.' Obviously a huge way to learn about life is to get a job. I have worked in Oxfam before, that's about it. (The job in the future prospects are looking good aren't they..). But again, I'd like to emphasise the point that I didn't have a job at A Level because my mum wanted me to focus on my studies. If I had I don't think I would have got into Bristol, but who knows?

I just wish I had the confidence to write for the newspaper here. I used to blame it on the fact that I had no ideas, but after three months I know that was just a lie. If you ever think of anything I could write about, send me an email, it would be much appreciated. So I guess this blog post was a way to reflect on the past three months. University can be great. It can also be extremely lonely, you just have to get used to those juxtapositions. I also thought (like I did with college), that I would at least have some romantic adventures, but just as normal, that hasn't happened. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know what is so repulsive about me but I'm still as single as ever while I watch all my other friends do what 'normal' teenagers do. I'm not too fussed about it though. I'm actually quite happy in my own skin, of course I have faults, we all do, just the romantic change would be nice. I also hate the pitying look and the awful way people say 'I'll try and find you someone' as if I'm useless and can't do it myself....(I have no idea where to start though..).

What I'm trying to say is, if you also haven't had any romantic engagements, join the club! There's a bunch of us! Mindy Kaling lost her virginity when she was 22 and Lena Dunham was also well into her twenties. There's never any rush, we just have to keep positive that it will happen one day...Right now, I prefer to focus on more important things, like records, reading and Gilmore Girls (I desperately tried to think of another 'R' but there was nothing! I couldn't write 'Rory' because she's my least favourite character). I'm not sure I really like how this blog post finished. I don't want people to think I'm so lonely person desperate for love, that's not the case! Just recently I have been thinking about it and observing other people (not in a creepy, stalkerish way). I just observe other situations and realise I don't want that.

Awakening

Well, it's been a long time hasn't it? I don't know how it came to be such a long time since I wrote my last blog post. Each day comes and goes as quickly as the last and from reading to writing essays, it's been hard to keep up! As you probably all know, I'm currently studying English at the University of Bristol, and despite my rather ambiguous last post (hey, I'm and English student, I live for ambiguity!) I am actually having a good time. I've met some great people who are very similar to me and Bristol is an amazingly vibrant and bright city. Weekends can be quite slow, however, as my main friend and flatmate is usually working through the day until midnight and other people are stuck with work: after Fresher's week, life continues!

As I've already said, we've had a lot of stressful essays to do already and before I break up I have two more: one 2500 word essay and one 4000 word essay. They really are sticking us in the deep end! We've been doing a poetry module which I'm loving. I've found a new found love for Keats and have decided that if more people were like him, the world would be a much better place. I also have written my first ever poem today as it was a task set by my tutor. I'll write it up at the bottom of the blog post. It's based on the book The Awakening by Kate Chopin which I am meant to have read for my Critical Issues seminar. For all you feminists out there, I strongly recommend this short story. It's about a woman in the Victorian times who doesn't seem to fit into that whole 'ideal woman' category they had going on back then. I get the impression a lot of you would enjoy reading it.

That's the best thing about doing English at University, I've come to find so many books and poems that I never thought I would be interested in. The worst thing, however, is if you're like me and not very good at voicing your opinions then that needs practice. In my seminars I am usually quiet until I know exactly what I want to say in my head. I have been known to have a mini panic attack when I don't say anything. I'll sit there and all of a sudden my heart will beat faster, my breath will shorten and my head will go dizzy. Luckily I've managed to learn how to stop it: just keep breathing. Don't expect too much of yourself. Everyone is in the same boat.

I still seem to constantly compare myself with others. I haven't found the best society for me just yet. I've been going to a film society but it doesn't feel very 'social'. All my other friends have found a society that they do a lot with and are getting great experience from. I hate that I'm already worrying about the future, but it's even harder when it seems that everyone else knows exactly what they're doing. I'm sure that's not the case, but I'll sit in constant worry about how I'm wasting my time here, not getting the most out of it. It's hard when you don't know what to do with that. I've tried to pluck up the courage to write for the newspaper but am unable to figure out what to write about. Any suggestions would be very helpful. One of my friends is really into drama and I would go along if I wasn't so worried about the auditions as I have no idea what to expect.

One thing I have realised is Bristol University is filled with a lot of poshos. Luckily, I haven't had to endure much conversation with them as, for some reason, as soon as I say I'm from Birmingham they fuck off. I hate witnessing privileged people talk about their 'gap yahs' and be happy because 'daddy payed off their student loan in one go'. Sadly, that's what English is filled with: which was inevitable. All I can say is, whoever came up with 'It's not what you know, it's who you know' should be the ambassador of the working classes. After this degree I can already picture myself on the dole, living at home while I watch all my friends succeed. Call me a pessimist, but I call myself a realist.

Sorry for being away so long, I'll try and remember to do more. I decided to write again because I checked my blog and Rosie had written a comment about missing my posts. Thanks for that Rosie, I really appreciate it as I had lost heart with this blog recently.
Here's a present for you, my poem:

The Awakening

Are you the saint you were meant to be?

With secrets in the attic and doubts in

Your mind, which whirl and wave like the sea

Of faith, such beauty filled with sin.

What is your role, what is your claim?

The silent grief that marks your woe

Makes side remarks, who is to blame?

Yourself or the heart of your beau?

But why does it matter, it's not your part.

A cast of angels and innocents are

Obtuse and opaque compared to your art,

If only others say the life from that far.

Your choice, your gain, forget your foolish spouse,

Say goodbye to the angel in the house.

A Room Without A View

I have officially been at the University of Bristol for a week and it's been rather crazy. After having a relatively quiet and sad first day, as I only had two other people in my flat (one never leaving his room and the other being completely wet) the week has become marginally better. One more person arrived, a girl this time, who I actually have a lot in common with and who actually wants to go out and be social. However, I constantly have this paranoia that everyone I tag along with is annoyed with me. My flat is quiet. We don't usually pre-drink together because half the people don't even want to go out so we find another flat. That's where I feel unwanted.

I live in the city centre with a lot of noise and a car park to look out on too, but I'm used to it being from the big city Birmingham. I look around and I feel like everyone has made best friends already and I'm sat in my room going insane and still watching Friends reruns. I'm really trying my best though. I have met some great people but you know when someone gives you a look or says something weird and you become incredibly uncomfortable? Yeah, that happens to me a lot. I think I must blow it straight out of proportion. Everyone's nervous, everyone's uncomfortable, everyone's new. So, I have kept trying and I've had some great nights.

The other day I felt a bit low. I've already got 'fresher's flu' and I was feeling lonely. But it is getting easier. I feel way more comfortable in my flat now - I was just watching Friends in the kitchen in a rather unflattering position and didn't give two shits what anyone thought! I just wish I had a more of a 'family flat' which everyone else seems to have. There I go again, comparing myself to everyone else. But I do feel like I'm getting better. Rather than letting that paranoia and jealousy eat me away, I've fought it. I still constantly text people to ask what they're doing. I still invite people out. I still tag along. And because I do that, I've had some great nights. I just really don't want another dreadful three years after my years at college.

Bristol is beautiful. I've already fallen in love with all the buildings and rivers and boats and cafes and bars and pubs and amazing things. There's always something to do here...However, there is a massive hill up to the university that will be the death of me. I wonder if Kate Bush was thinking about this hill when writing 'Running up that Hill' because my god, it is huge. Luckily, doing English means I'm only in 7 hours a week (I know and I'm paying £9000 a year) so less time for me to walk up that hill. I've come to every lecture so far drenched in sweat. Not a good first impression. (It's really not, people actively don't talk to me because of it but they're bitches). One bit of advice, don't bother with bitches. Work out who are the twats early on and don't spend time with them. You're amazing and they're not worth it.

Well, this blog post was a bit all over the place, which is just like my brain right now. I'm still settling in but I felt that I should write something to let you guys know how it's going. I'm sorry about this being so dreadful. Better post next time! I promise!

Music makes everything a bit better

I'll be leaving for the University of Bristol in less than a month. Everything is seriously changing and I'm so scared. I have no idea what to expect. I constantly think that no one's going to like me or I'm not going to like them. I worry that I'm going to have a terrible time. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that I'm not alone. Everyone else in my boat is scared and to know that is very reassuring.

I'm going to be doing English which strives on the thoughts and feelings of all different people and cultures, so when you discover a book/song/film that talks about everything you're going through, it feels good. I like that I'll be doing a subject that requires empathy rather than, how can I say, 'selfishness'? I just feel that society claims to encourage people to do what they want, but people fall at the first hurdle and do things that are easy to get a job. People miss out on what they truly love and are interested in, and in turn, they make fun of those people that are doing something they love.

Don't get me wrong, I still freak about the future and worry about getting a job. (After having two parents as teachers I really don't want to be one). But we've also got into a trap that says science is the only way to get good jobs...sometimes I think it's true. Only because, it's not what you know, it's who you know. It's all about connections, especially in the arts. I have no connections, but the ever changing world of technology has technically helped me in some way. If this was 100 years ago, I'm sure I wouldn't be going to University, let alone writing my own blog that people actually read! I hope this will help in some way for my future, 'til now, I've got to focus on what's happening now rather than worrying about the future.

Here are a few songs that I listen to when I'm in need of some encouragement. I hope you enjoy them but also, send me some of your favourite songs that really help when you're feeling down.

Don't Give Up - Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush

I Don't Blame You - Cat Power

Laura - Bat For Lashes

Unfucktheworld - Angel Olsen

 God Only Knows - The Beach Boys

Here, There and Everywhere - The Beatles

The Blues are Still Blue - Belle and Sebastian

Don't Think Twice, It's Alright - Bob Dylan

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now - The Smiths

Where do the children play? - Cat Stevens

Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

Moments of Pleasure - Kate Bush

Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole - Martha Wainwright

(Must end on the ultimate 'fuck you' song)

Uncertainty

When I was in nursery, my parents were told that I had the capacity to enjoy myself in any situation. My mum likes to repeat that statement because it's usually true. In the past I have even won prizes because of this - in year 3 we went on a trip to a car museum (the most dull place on earth) but for some reason I had a really great day (I even took a picture of a road because I found it so exciting) and because of this I won 'pupil of the day' and a t-shirt. Then again in year 5 I won 'star of the year' at school (all while experiencing my world falling apart at home). But now I fear that part of me is fading and I'm desperately trying to hold on.

I have just been on holiday with my friends in Portugal. While I was happy with my company, it wasn't the most enjoyable experience for me. After experiencing a panic attack on the first day, I was wary about the whole situation. So while I suffered in silence, my friends shouted "I LOVE LIFE" to strangers and had the best week of their lives. It's nice to observe but there comes a time when you've had enough and want someone to understand how you're feeling...even while not really knowing yourself how you feel and why you feel this way.

At first I thought it was jealousy. I have spoken a lot on this blog about my feelings on jealousy, so you should all know it's the worst feeling. After living with my family for eighteen years, there was no way I could escape thinking life is "beautiful" - instead I see it as all meaningless, just like Woody Allen said, "the future is just the same as the past but longer." So could you blame me for being jealous of my friends' optimistic views on life? Or maybe I'm right and it's stupid to be optimistic and I'll end up having the last laugh? Either way, they're happy now and I'm not so sure what I am.

My mum has always said that once you understand everything is meaningless, everything gets easier. She's told people at her work this theory who have actively come back to her and thanked her for this revelation. While I completely understand where she's coming from, what if I don't want to think everything is meaningless? I mean, I'm an 18 year old woman. Am I not meant to have the whole world ahead of me? Or is that just a stupid thing to say? My head is stuck in an endless cycle of questions that I don't (and probably will never) know the answer to.

I have it in my mind that only positive people get ahead. I have this picture of me in twenty years time, meeting my friends and they have a great job, a big family, and are happy and successful, and I'm exactly the same. Drowning in my thoughts, not getting on. Perhaps I'm being brain-washed by the media who want us to feel being positive is the only way to get ahead just to help out the big guys - that's always my go to answer because it's usually true. Or perhaps everyone worries about this. The future is so uncertain to everyone so if it is all meaningless, this worrying is all for nothing and I'll never get this 30 minutes back.

Sorry for the stress induced from this post. I have my A Level results coming out on Thursday and, to put it mildly, I am shitting myself. I also haven't been writing because my laptop has been broken but now it's fixed! So more posts will be coming from me soon.

The Ballad of Maggie O'Hara

I had a rush of inspiration this morning and decided to write a story. I feel that someone one day should write a modern version of 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles' as it still fits with today's society and it would just be so good. Anyway, with that in mind, I have written a little fictional tale about my heroine: Maggie O'Hara. Please, tell me what you think. I rarely write stories but I would like to do it more.


Maggie O’Hara stared at the shapes formed by the iron filings next to the magnet. She made out an image of a lone lion that was staring right back at her. When her brothers and sisters had had enough, Maggie put them away but that image was stuck in her mind and would for many years to come.
Maggie was the oldest of five children whom she had to take care of when their parents worked extra night shifts to get more money, this being one of those nights. However, this time she received a text from her friend asking her to come out. Despite knowing she shouldn’t, she waited until she could hear the slow rhythm of sleeping children snoring and snuck out into the darkness which swallowed her whole.
This was not like Maggie. Perhaps she was tired of missing out or she needed to escape from her claustrophobic, prison-like home. Either way, as she was running to greet her friends, she felt the soft prick of the night’s cool air on her face. Protectively beside her she saw the lion running with her, the paws thumping in a chanting rhythm. She cracked a smile as she ran with the beast feeling free.

As Maggie and her friends entered the club, Maggie felt like someone was watching her. Assuming it was just guilt for leaving home, she brushed it off and carried on dancing. However, in the dark corners of the room, a tall, ghostly man had spotted her and could not look away. Watching her dance perfectly to the beat of the music was hypnotising, like a feather floating perfectly with the wind. It was as if everything had slowed down and he could even see the soft hairs on her arms swaying to the rhythm. She danced like a dream and he was unable to look away.
Maggie noticed the man staring and she suddenly became very still and anxious. She was here to have a good time with friends and she didn’t want anyone to ruin that. Maggie walked to the bar to get him off her mind and ordered a drink, unaware that the man was also on the move.
Maggie felt a gentle brush on her hips and turned around. There, standing in front of her, was the man in the corner. Up close he was handsome with piercing blue eyes and a subtle beard that made him look manly, but there was an essence to him that made Maggie’s soft brown eyes turn sharp and scared. She turned back to the bar, trying to ignore him, when he moved a section of her hair away from her ear which made her stop dead still as he whispered, “let me buy that for you.”
There was a hint of laughter behind his speech making Maggie feel more wary. She looked straight past him to catch a glimpse of someone she knew but she couldn’t against the crowd of people dancing. She looked up at him with her innocent eyes and agreed.
She quietly gave thanks and started to leave when she was pulled back harshly by her wrist,
“Hey! You owe me a dance!” 
The man looked at her as if she was his prey. Brushing his hand off her wrist, she shouted over the music, “I don’t owe you anything,” and turned back into the crowds of people as the man watched her leave.
Maggie found her friends but decided not to tell them what happened. Instead, she continued to dance and held the tears back, feeling completely degraded and small.

It had passed 2am when Maggie became tired and her mind was clouded by the alcohol. She stumbled to the toilet on her own and sat in the cubicle trying to regain her thoughts. The graffiti written on the cubicle door was spinning but she thought she could just make out the letters, ‘S.O.S,’ which imprinted on her brain. 
When she left the toilet she felt a warm hand on her shoulder guiding her to follow. She suddenly felt the hit of the cold night air on her bare skin making her feel extremely vulnerable. She had no idea who she was with, where she was, or where her friends were and the alcohol she had consumed meant she could not find out. 
She felt a hard push on her chest as she hit a wall behind her causing panic to rush around her. The hand that felt like a safe guide was now touching her in places she had never been touched before. She was unable to move, the fear that consumed her had glued her feet to the floor, making them heavy like bricks. 
Her skin felt delicate against the cold, hard wall she was leaning against. Her eyes were wide with fear as the dark silhouette had begun to form in front of her and she saw those two blue eyes that had drowned her mind in the club before. Her mouth began to form a scream which was cut short by his rough hand, leaving him to only see her brown eyes full of fear. 
The night had surrounded them. The man could not be seen by anyone and Maggie could not be saved. She felt the hard thrusts form a rhythm of constant pain all over her body making it become weaker and weaker at each hit. His eyes stared constantly at her which had formed salty tears that landed on her hand that was still on her mouth.
There was nothing she could do. She felt hopeless and stupid as she saw the once protective lion look on at her pityingly as she was bound to the male hand’s of a stranger. 

The Other Side

It's a week today since my last exam. I've spent my freedom reading, thinking and going out 'til 4am with my friends. I guess, at 18, I finally feel like a proper teenager. But all these late nights have finally caught up on me and I'm tired all the time. I guess it's good I decided to save the late nights until after college. It seems I have this weird thing where I think I'm different to how I actually am. I think I'm better and I ooze that confidence when I'm out, but it doesn't fit. It's not my personality, but my looks. I just can't decide if it's a good thing or not?

We will never be able to see ourselves, only our reflections and pictures - to me, that seems really strange. I wouldn't ever say I'm the best looking person, because I'm not, I've never thought that, but I do always think I'm better than I actually am. When I walk down the street, I don't think about my chunky thighs banging together, or my round tummy wobbling. I imagine myself as someone else, someone that doesn't exist, someone with a lot of confidence, who can get up in the morning and leave the house with a smile on their face. I don't do it in order to do those things, I just naturally picture myself like that. Sadly, you can imagine my disappointment when I expect so much but get so little because of my imagination.

You can imagine my shock when I see photographs of myself, or I look in the mirror. But even then, I don't hate myself. But I don't change myself when I know I can and probably should. I have one life, or so they say, and this is what I'm trapped in. I think this persona I have in my mind is me, just not who I'm projecting.  Sometimes I feel like unzipping this current layer and stepping out as the person I assume I am - but it's never that easy. It seems this is similar to the 'fake it 'til you make it' saying - perhaps this is what I'm doing. Or maybe I'm just mental.

Perhaps I don't ooze this confidence, but I feel like I do. I'm an introvert, sometimes. It always depends who I'm with. With my friends, I breakout of my shell and this is when I'm this 'other' person. I do like to think that this must be the real me. I feel like this is what Allen Ginsberg was like, or maybe he really was just a confident, pretentious twat. Or the same with any other poet, writer. I feel like you need this other side of yourself because without it, will be ever have art with meaning? If people were fully their confident type, art would be selfish. Without confidence, we would live a lifeless existence without literature to get us through it.

Well, I don't know where my mind is going with this. I didn't plan for that ending, that's for sure. Maybe it's because I recently finished an amazing book (The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller) which I think you should all read. If you've read a really good book recently, please recommend it to me, I'm in need, now I've finished my book, I don't really know what to do with myself. Also, now I've finished with my a levels, maybe you'll be seeing more of me...or maybe I'll still be stuck in my writer's block. Either way, keep sending me messages to inspire me please.

(Just had to, look at that moustache - oh and relationship like Paul and Linda's please: favourite song at the moment.)

The green eyed monster inside me

It was my last day of college today. Two years of boredom and unhappiness have finished in a flash. I remember myself two years ago. I thought everything would change for me. Thanks to college, I now don't get my hopes up for anything - it means I'm never fully disappointed. But I'm the type of person that feels so much, while I experience so little. Perhaps I don't take enough risks. Perhaps I'm too shy. Either way, I'm very underwhelmed by it all.

I'm a hopeless romantic who's hopeless with love. I've gone through life watching everyone else experience the things I want to do, but I've just stayed put. Instead, I feed my emotions with exaggerated shit just to feel something new. Romantic films, books, music. You name it, I've used it. My mind has been drowned with romanticised views on love that will never happen, so I'm constantly let down. While I've stopped getting my hopes up, when I see it happening around me, I get so jealous it's hard to hide it.

I read something this week by a nurse who recorded the most common regrets of people on their deathbeds.  One which stuck with me was 'I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.' To me, that means taking risks. Opening up with people, but I always stay so guarded. I felt I took a major risk going to a different college to my friends, but that turned out to be foolish. In turn, no one knew the real me while I was there. I never made 'friends for life', in fact, I disliked most of the people. I know that was my own fault.

It's like one huge cycle. I take a risk, I close off, I dislike the people, I notice other people make friends, I get jealous. But we're all learning. It's all human nature, but in return, we learn from these mistakes. However, from looking at my past notebook entries, I don't always change. It's funny to see I've written the same things down from 5 years ago, 3 years ago to now. History, for me, really is repeating itself.

I still have my exams left, but technically I'm done. "The end of an era" is a common thing I've heard from people. Really though? Two years and nothing happened.Well, I did find a new love for David Lynch. I started to fully appreciate more literature. I realised that my parent's music really is a cut above the rest. But most of all, I did grow up. I am a different person despite my inexperiences. One person who has experienced one thing, may not have experienced what I have. We're all different and I need to stop comparing myself with you all...and you're the same.

 

Writer's block

I have a severe case of writer's block and have for a few weeks now. I'm currently home alone on a Thursday night and I have just watched the last episode of Girls series three and now I'm sad. I also have this constant worry about exams which are in eight weeks time but yet I do nothing. I don't ever fancy coming home after crappy college and then going straight into work again. But, who does? As my mad Gran said this morning, "We all have to do things we don't want to do." (She's crazy and selfish so I was surprised by these wise words).
I haven't been able to think of any good ideas for a new blog post. The last post I was happy with was the one about being 'cool' but since then, my morale has just spiraled down. I miss my blog when I first started and I was talking to all you guys and we would give each other awards but now I feel closed off. I miss talking to you and giving advice and asking for advice. I always seem to do that. As soon as I feel comfortable, I start slipping away and need to be dragged back. So if anyone fancies a chat, then I'm up for it. I'm always here.

All photos from tumblr of course.

My youth is gone like a dream...

I finally turned 18 last week! I'm an adult! That must mean that I won't be posting any more blog posts moaning about life...oh wait, I'm still technically a 'teen' and everyone moans about life, not just teenagers, right? Other than turning 18, I've also gone past my 1 year anniversary of having this blog and, oh god, do I moan a lot. But, everyone knows, and seems to forget, it's hard growing up. I had the nicest email from Rosalindis last week and it made me realise that I'm not alone in my struggles and that's comforting for me. If anyone else would like to send me an email about anything (nothing rude though) then my email is at the bottom of my blog.

I do know how lucky I am. I have great friends and through that I have been able to do amazing things with them. One of my friends, for my birthday, got me loads of photographs of our fun times together. While my family were looking through them, each one said how lucky I was and they never had a teenage life like it. I know. I'm super lucky. That doesn't mean that things still don't get me down. Everyone feels down at some point. College gets too stressful or your friends are having an argument. Either way, we all want somewhere to vent...weirdly enough, I choose to do that online where anyone and everyone can read it.

Rosie also said something that made me scream in my head "YES, YES, YES! You get it!" "I guess going over the top is the whole point of being a teenager. If we cant be radical now, then when can we?!" We're all a bunch of mopey teenagers that feel like they have something to say and want to say it. What's the harm in that? And that idea has been going on for centuries. I'm currently doing coursework comparing Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre' with Jean Rhys' 'Wide Sargasso Sea' and both of those authors were incredibly grumpy. They lived with their heart of their sleeve. My favourite quote by Charlotte Bronte was when it was her birthday she wrote, "My youth is gone like a dream; and very little use have I ever made of it." I like to think that we're all wearing our hearts on our sleeves like Charlotte.

Jean Rhys also said one of my favourite quotes,

 “When I was excited about life, I didn't want to write at all. I've never written when I was happy. I didn't want to. But I've never had a long period of being happy, Do you think anyone has? I think you can be peaceful for a long time, When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write. You see, there's very little invention in my books. What came first with most of them was the wish to get rid of this awful sadness that weighed me down . I found when I was a child that if I could put the hurt into words, it would go. It leaves a sort of melancholy behind and then it goes.” 

Whenever I write, it's usually because I'm unhappy about something and want to be rid of it. Jean has literally managed to get my whole concept of writing this blog in a paragraph, and I love her for it. I like to think that each generation of teenage girls are filled with hopeless romantics like Jean, Charlotte, me, the people who read my blog and the people I follow. It's not that we're not 'lucky' it's just sometimes life gets us down and we like to write about it. We might over-emphasise a factor of something, but isn't that just to engage the reader more? Isn't that what you do when you're a hopeless romantic? So many people have made a living out of it so we must be doing something right.