Nostalgia Only Makes Me Old

The title of this blog post is from a fantastic poem that we studied in English Literature. I don’t even remember what the poem was called but all I remember was that it was about handkerchiefs or something? Oh well. Never mind.

So, I suppose it makes sense for me to write some soppy post about how AMAZING 2015 has been for me, and all the lessons I’ve learnt, and all the wonderful people I appreciate. And of course, let’s not forget all my 2016 resolutions, all the plans I have for next year and the goals I hope to achieve.

But that would be FAR too cliche. And how can I expect to liberate mankind when I just blindly follow the masses? (Plus, I’m pretty blind already; I wear glasses). And I really dislike this ‘New year, new me’ thing, because I’m really the exact same person. The earth completing a single lap around the entire sun does not suddenly transform me into a glittering goddess. I’m literally the same person.

So. Let’s be different. I’m not going to write about things I’m going to leave behind in 2015, or new things I intend to do in 2016.

No. This is:

‘The Unchanging, Perpetual Existence of the neither New nor Improved Rianna’ (All Rights Reserved)*

First of all, I’m not changing how I look. I’m not gonna ‘update my style’ or whatever; plus nobody has enough money for that. (I fully intend, however, to buy those beautiful T-bar ankle strap heels from Clarks). I mean, for me, it just doesn’t make sense to suddenly be like, “You know what. Scrap my wardrobe. Scrap all the looks I so amazingly worked together last year. It’s time for a change.” NOOOO. It’s not. It’s time to keep working with my reliable angles and that warm lighting. It’s time to keep rocking that lazy look, every. Single. Day. (Seriously, trackies and hoodies are amazing. They’ve saved my life. Perhaps not my dignity though, but who cares?) I would love to say I am going to lose weight (and I will try my best for my Summer holiday, #deadlines) but it won’t be my priority.

Secondly, I have absolutely NO intention to make a New Year’s resolution. They don’t even make sense. Why would you make something that you full and well know you aren’t going to stick to? (There are very few people that actually stick to them, and those people are either a gift to society or a pain in it’s butt). It’s such a hard knock to your self-confidence, when you don’t achieve something that you knew you weren’t going to in the first place but tried to convince yourself it was a worthwhile commitment. New Year’s Resolutions are like cheese, jam and tuna sandwiches; it seems like a great idea to make one, but when it’s been made, it suddenly looks like a lot to digest and terribly overwhelming. (True story).

Next, I refuse to clear stuff out. It’s not time for a Spring Clean. It’s a new year, not time to throw everything that held sentimental value in the past year away. Learn the difference people. I’m not doing it. I’ll keep whatever I want to keep, and throw away things when I feel it’s time, not just because the earth’s rotational orbit has put pressure on me to do so.

I don’t want to ‘become a better me’. I like me just the way I am for now, to be honest. Becoming a ‘better me’ does not take place overnight. I cannot just emerge from the ‘New Year’s Eve’ cocoon into a new year like a beautifully transformed butterfly. I shall remain a caterpillar until it’s my time to #GloUp.

I’m not becoming a vegan just because everyone else has decided that veganism is the ‘in thing’ this year. (Or next year. Ah, it’s so confusing). I would like to be a vegan, but it’s going to take me a while to do so. Also, changing your food habits is a psychological thing. It was easy for me to become a vegetarian (the decision which I made in Jamaica of the summer 2013) because I had determined that I was going to make an effort. Let me tell you, if you can resist every form of chicken ever (I kid you not) in a Jamaican resort, then you can come home to England and be a vegetarian. It was a breeze once I got home. ANYWAY. Sorry, not relevant. FOCUS. I don’t have the right mindset to become a vegan just yet. Ergo, it’s not happening just yet.

As I have said before, the completion of our planet’s orbital circuit will not suddenly make me more organised. The amount of lists I’ve seen people start to draw up, like planning out every single little detail of their days. And why has everyone suddenly become obsessed with diaries? Truth be told, I never use diaries. I write in them, but then I never look in them, which isn’t very useful – and sort of just defeats the whole point of them altogether. So no. No diaries. And no pretending I am magically more organised than now… or before. (Which one is it now?)

“2016 is going to be my year.” Said me, never. 2016 is just another year. Yes, I’m entirely grateful I’ve made it through 16 years with my life fully intact, but I have no idea what the next year has in store for me. I don’t know if I’ll even make it through the year. Nobody knows. I refuse to call 2016 ‘My year’ because anything could happen. Calling it ‘my year’ makes me feel very vulnerable, simply because I have a false sense of confidence in something which is entirely unpromised to me. Tomorrow isn’t even promised to me; who’s to say I’ll make it through another 364 tomorrows?

Also, romance. Why is a year not (socially) complete without romance? Why do I have to kiss some stinky boy in order for the year to be complete? That’s nonsense to be honest. (Also, I only talk to about 4 boys). The only romance you will be seeing in my life is the romance between myself and my education. Now that’s some steamy stuff right there. And honestly, it sucks being such an unrealistic romanticist, because I base my notions of romance on novels and movies, and if my life was either, he’d stand in the back garden under my window, blasting Disney tunes from his iPod, with a really dweeby hat that had mistletoe on it, and then propose to me. But that would all end up quite disastrously. *clears throat* Let’s get back on track shall we?

I’m not going to ‘be happier’. I mean, yes I would love to be happy, but happiness is arbitrary. It’s not a permanent state of being. Life is a mixture of happiness and sadness, and that’s what makes it life. Otherwise you might as well just be in a movie, that’s as real as your life would be. Once again, the change in position of the big round Terra ball that humans reside on cannot instill perpetual happiness within me.

So there it is. My (potentially) bitter but realistic post about the future, but hey ho. Anyways, I think that’s all from me, so I’m out, goodnight and I hope that you all have a wonderful


The Faerie Squad Mother x


*I only wrote this because it looked very official and that made me feel quite important LOL. My apologies. I really hope it’s not illegal to do this. It’s not, is it?


2 thoughts on “Nostalgia Only Makes Me Old

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