The Tessellation Diagram

Humans beings are born with the innate need to feel. Throughout life – as a baby, a toddler, a child, an adolescent, teen, youth, young adult, adult and elderly person – this need is the focus of everything we do.

Babies cry because they want attention, they need to feel loved. Toddlers waggle their arms to be picked up because they want to feel comforted, they need to feel cherished. Even when we’re older, we date or marry people because we have this seemingly insatiable need to feel wanted.

But wait, you’re probably thinking, what about people who DON’T feel? Now, I know I’m thinking of it from a black and white perspective, but it is impossible to ‘not feel’. The first connection we make when we think of feelings is one of happiness; we assume that in order to effectively ‘feel’ it has to be good feelings. It doesn’t. Bad feelings – feelings of doubt, guilt, fear, depression – are feelings just the same. At the end of the day, everyone feels something. It might not be the same as we grow up, and yes, even evil people feel things too (though exactly what, we may never understand) but everyone feels something; and some to a greater emotional extent than others. Even psychopaths supposedly have the same breadth of emotions as everyone else, they just don’t ‘attend’ to their emotions the same way that everyone else does.

In general though, the most widely sought-after feeling is that of a need; to be wanted, to be loved, to feel like you matter to someone. This is what drives the majority of our daily lives, from childhood all the way up to retirement age. We want to feel like we have people who care for us and love us. This is why we at first develop friendships; from an early age especially, friendships teach us how we feel that we should be loved, how worthy we feel of this love and also how we feel that we should care for others. This is why that when we first start to develop friendships, it is so important that we are taught our self-worth and value; because when we have little or no self-worth, then we don’t have particularly high expectations for the love we feel like we should receive.

The start of someone’s life is the most important part; it makes them who they are. Each mistake, each tear, each success, each failure; but the important part of the learning and growing process is that they are all feelings.

For me, feelings play a huge part in my life. I get very easily attached to people who I feel are worthwhile people to have in my life, in both platonic and romantic senses, and at times, it can be very difficult for me to let go. My need to feel loved, to feel wanted and to feel appreciated drives nearly every single one of my relationships with friends and with family. In the past, as I think I’ve probably mentioned (or slyly indirected) I’ve lost quite a few people who I once considered my really close friends, or ‘best friends’ as some people would refer to them. And yes, losing friends is sad, and it hurts a lot, and it can take a long time to get over. To some extent, I would argue that I never really ‘get over’ things, but just learn ways to cope and move on.

So this is where the title comes in – after my long, and mostly necessary ramble. A while ago (about a year ago now, WHOA time flies!), I was chilling with Dezza and trying to explain to her my interpersonal relationships with others. I described it to her using the simple example of a tessellation diagram:

Imagine a blank white page. Now draw a hexagon. Now draw another one connected to it. Keep drawing hexagons until your page is a tessellation filled with empty-looking hexagons.

This is the structure of my relationships. The ’tiles’ closer to the upper left are some of the oldest ones; the tiles further down and to the right are new ones that are added. Pretend that there is a name painted in black on every single tile; these are all the people I interact with regularly, occasionally or infrequently. The oldest tiles, the ones that are broken and cracked, are often the ones that I have tried to remove, but with disastrous consequences. You see, the longer you leave these hexagonal ’tiles’, the more difficult they are to pull up without completely shattering the tile altogether; over time, and without care or attention, they become neglected, brittle and subject to fracturing.

On the other side, you have the newer tiles, that are being added as I write at this very moment. These tiles are the ones that are shinier and new, but only time will tell how well they wear. (That’s  a bit of a mouthful: only time will tell how well they wear…) And then you have the tiles somewhere in the middle that are neither old nor recent but are very shiny; they are the ’tiles’ that I regularly attend, cleaning, polishing and filling in any cracks which appear when cracks start to show.

Some new tiles don’t last very long; sometimes the names written on them are quickly scratched over before the ‘paint’ can dry and replaced with new, more worthwhile names. Old tiles only remain because taking them out of the tessellation altogether would mean… well, it just wouldn’t be a tessellation; as much as many relationships I’ve had have been somewhat questionable, there is no doubt that I would not be the person I am today if it weren’t for the mixture of both good and not-so-good experiences.

And that’s it, I guess.

That’s the positive outlook of the whole situation; even though not every friendship and relationship I’ve had has been positive or edifying for me as a person, they’ve all crafted me in ways which may not have made sense at the time, but start to make sense the older I get.

The more you age, I guess the less you realise you know and understand about things. I’m not trying to make out like I’m an ‘old soul’ far ahead of her peers, but there are certainly (as it goes without saying) things that I’m still learning. I’d like to think I’ve become a lot more sensible in choosing my friends and surrounding myself with encouraging people who understand me and support me, and give me the opportunity and the privilege of being able to reciprocate as well. I don’t even have to @ anybody, because you all know who you are. 🙂

But yes, that’s it from me for the evening.

In the (fictional) words of Albert (and then Sir Robert Peel): There it is.

Love from The Faerie Squad Mother x

post

p.s. I watched the next episode of ‘Victoria’ and their incestuous cuteness never fails to simultaneously shock me and move me to tears.

An Unexpected Return: The ‘I’m Kidding Mum’ Edition

Once again. I am always disappearing for long periods of time, and – honestly – so much has happened since I last blogged on the 1 August 2016. Unfortunately, I have no elaborate, eloquent essays like my last post, so this is simply pure, unadulterated rambling. No structure, no hidden messages, no propaganda.

Just my nonsense.

So what have you missed? First of all… well, not first of all, but one of the most important things: I turned 17. (Wahey!) This is a milestone in UK terms because (also most importantly) I can start to learn how to drive. I am also one year closer to getting married without my parent’s permission; this, naturally, is obviously the number one goal.

I’m kidding mum, that is obviously NOT the number one goal. 🙂

Secondly, I’ve made new friends. I say new friends, I mean friends who have literally fallen into my lap due to entirely unforeseen circumstances. As I, often do, never directly use their names, Cameron – as she is called for an entirely justifiable reason – is a new friend I have discovered, to be politically correct,  who shares my love (pun intended) for words, writing, racial politics and humour. I’m low-key glad I’m talking to her now, too. There has been the development of my friendship with Spaceboi who is, in fact, a boy from space, because he is out of this world. Literally. He also still owes me Welsh soil. (Even though he’s dying and he can’t swallow. #GetBetterSoon) And as a new edition to my shiny card collection of friends, Bag Juice, so named for his favourite beverage in Jamaica (yes, I also went to Jamaica for the summer) is – I have discovered – my ‘long-lost cousin’, whose laugh makes me laugh.

As a matter of fact, he’s on the phone to me as I write this. Bag Juice, as in. As he has just brazenly told me, after a small dispute over GCSEs, “I know bare.” What a legend. Truly inspirational words from an inspirational young man.

(I was going to start the next paragraph with the word ‘also’ but because he’s now at A-Level and thinks he’s a bit cool, Bag Juice suggested that I start with the word ‘conjointly’. I’ve never even heard of it before in my life. He now tells me I should look it up in a dictionary or a thesaurus, because of course, “he knows bare.”)

Conjointly, I have continued my current studies in A-Levels, continuing on with the ever-stressful English Literature, Spanish (now so rapid that I’m surprised I’m not told to bring a life-jacket to every lesson) and History, which is the only thing that is keeping me going right now anyway. But I don’t have a choice, and so I am aiming for that #AcademicExcellence because I intend to make the best of this year. Especially since last year didn’t exactly go to plan. And, naturally, I do not want a repeat of the academic DISASTER (to put it lightly) that was the school term of 2015.

I’m kidding mum, it wasn’t a COMPLETE disaster. 🙂

[Update: Bag Juice has now gone. It’s just me now; thank goodness he’s left me to blog in PEACE!]

Praise the Lord, though, that I got an A and C in my AS Levels. The A was (entire unsurprisingly) in Drama and the C was in Spanish, and even though, sadly, I have been forced to drop Drama – and will subsequently miss my husband Torvald, and my Polish twin sister Caroline, and Turkey, and just everyone in the class – God helped me to pass my Spanish. No, but honestly, it had to be Him, because there is not a chance in Hell (ha! see what I did there?) that I was able to understand a single word on that test paper.

It was all Greek to me. (I’m kidding mum, I obviously revised for it. 🙂 )

Also, on the theme of #AcademicExcellence, I’ve recently deleted my Instagram and Snapchat – and I couldn’t have chosen a better time, really – so that I can focus on my work and my spiritual life as I realised they’re literally two of the biggest distractions for me. I’ve only been accessing them illicitly when it is 100% necessary. (I’m kidding mum, I don’t illegally sneak onto them on my laptop. 🙂 )

Since the tearful and heart-wrenching ending of Downton Abbey, and the anxious wait for the next season of Velvet to be released on Netflix, I have found a new program to alleviate my desperate and insatiable longing for period dramas; Victoria, on ITV. We only have a slight problem – well, I say it’s a slight problem, when in reality it’s a large problem that brings about very worrying developments and has even worse implications; Victoria and Albert, the cutest televised historical couple that I have seen to date, are related.

“But that’s not so bad!”, I hear you cry. “All the British Royal family are inbred!” (You wouldn’t be wrong if you did say this; our current Queen Elizabeth and her husband are second cousins once removed). But wait! Victoria and Albert – the cutest televised historical couple that I have seen to date – are not only related; they are *drum roll* FIRST COUSINS! (Gasp! Shock! Horror!)

What shocks me the most though, is not that they are related or that they had 9 kids (and that’s at LEAST 9 sex – 9 too MUCH sex for first cousins, in my humble opinion), but the fact that despite knowing this shocking fact, I am still high-key gunning for their sweetly romantic relationship.

In other words, I am high-key gunning for incest. (Please feel free to quote me; you will never hear these words come out of my mouth at any other point in my life). What’s wrong with me? I mean, I know I’m a nerd for history, but I’m NOT a nerd for incest and there is never any excusable justification for this practice, right?

I’m kidding mum, I don’t support incest. 🙂

Anyhow. We’ve lost a key member of our History band, which was named ‘Volksgemeinschaft’; now Babs has left and our topic has changed in History (Civil Rights in America from 1865 – 1992) we’ve had to rename ourselves ‘The White Citizens’ Council’. Which is just historical banter, but PLEASE don’t assume that we’re only made up of racist white people, because I am neither racist nor white. I don’t know about the others though… I know for a fact that Mags has admitted to being a white supremacist on the weekends, and she does own an uncanny amount of white bedsheets?

I’m kidding mum, none of my friends are white supremacists. 🙂

Speaking of white supremacy, I also want to say, a HUGE congratulations (and shout out) to the KKK, who would have been in existence – by December 24th of this year – for 151 years! Yes, you’ve read that entirely correctly! The fun-loving, all-hating, Christian band of ‘lovable rogues’ (as I, so gingerly, put it) have been up and running for 151 years! Since December 1865, who would have thought that they would have STILL (yes, that’s right, STILL, because they have an official website and everything!) been alive and well in September of 2016?

Certainly not me. That’s who. (Especially to all those who think we live in a ‘post-racial’ society, they are a group who were literally born out of racist ideologies and stand for white supremacy and are still today being supported by American citizens.)

But let’s not dwell on the positives, eh?

My writing attempts since 1 August have been somewhat faulty; did that sentence even make sense? Probably not. Goes to show, right? But when I was in Jamaica, I kept a diary of the goings-on (for about a week or two) which I tried to start off emotionally-neutrally, but ended up failing and just revealing the depths of my soul to. The worrying thing is, even though I know it’s at home, I can’t remember where I put that notebook. (I’m kidding mum, not the depths of my soul.) But I don’t doubt I will shortly find it and be able to burn whatever necessary incriminating pages.

I’m kidding mum, I’m not going to burn any of it, it’s all evidence to be used against me in the future. 🙂

And on that note, I think it’s time for me to once again depart and leave the heart of my blog empty and waiting for me to return at sporadic intervals, whenever I gather the ability to write.

Farewell, until next time,

The Faerie Squad Mother x

post

p.s. I’m kidding mum.

Cue Music

So I’ve been MIA for a while, but I’ve decided (somewhat magnanimously) to return to my child and show it some love and affection. Ergo, this blog post.

DISCLAIMER: Obviously all the names used in this aren’t people’s actual names, so please don’t be surprised; I’m just using ones that make sense to me, and maybe people who were there will be able to figure it out too, LOL.

Anyway, for the past weekend (last Friday to Monday) I spent an amazing, fun-filled, beach-filled, music-filled, laughter-filled four days at a caravan campsite in Cornwall. (What a tongue twister…) In fact, there was so much said fun that I lost my voice and am still now recovering. Although I blame W____ church for that – we were screaming ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls in their caravan and me and Yin-Yang both lost our voices. Everyone else wasn’t so unfortunate.

I’m pretty sure we spent FAR too long in W___ church’s caravan, because nearly everyday from the second day, we went and chilled in theirs and listened to music and ate food and talked. I mean, minus the fact that I forgot to add them all on Snapchat and didn’t get to see any of the videos they’d posted of us all in the caravan, it was definitely fun.

10 out of 10, would recommend.

Also, I’m pretty sure myself and my sister were two of like four of the people there who weren’t Filipinos LMAO. But I met some wonderful, talented, hilarious people (I can’t fangirl too much otherwise I might get carried away) but the majority, unfortunately, live REALLY far away. And by far I mean like, it would take them 5 – 28 minutes – depending on arm stroke length – to swim from their houses to London. (Or perhaps a bit longer than that depending on how bad the traffic is).

I got the chance to sing with some pretty cool people this weekend too, both other singers and musicians, so that was definitely one of the highlights of the week. Spaceboy’s musical prowess completely blew me away, as did Caesar’s constant willingness to join in and sing with me, for which I cannot thank him enough. (#ReadyForAnything) And Moustache’s playing of that drum-box thing and his guitar, and The Enigma’s guitar playing was also awesome and they were all so much fun to jam with. And talk history with. And reenact the assassination of Julius Caesar with.

The caravans were alright. I mean, of course they weren’t five star, but we (specifically us, because nobody else’s seemed to worked) had a banging heater. Like a proper fire stove that was really toasty and that we turned on every morning and every evening. I was scared though during some worship we had that we’d left it on, so I ran back to our caravan in the rain… only to find that it had, in fact, been switched off by the more responsible adults in our caravan, Chilli and Sunflower. Which was great because not only was my trip useless but I was also wet. Yay.

But myself and Michy-Fichy got the largest room with the double bed and the heater (LOL, you snooze, you lose!) so we had a ball in that room really. I had a sleeping bag and she had the bed sheets, and it was – for the most part – comfortable. And when the heater went on, we were all toasty in there too. Once again though, I was terrified that we would wake up to choking fumes and something nearby the heater, which happened to be flammable, on fire, so I made sure I switched it off before either of us fell asleep.

Also, one lunch time we had some huge jam sesh, where someone would literally just start playing a song on the piano and then everyone would join in. It was truly so beautiful aha, *wipes away solitary tear rolling down cheek* we did Adele, Beyonce, One Direction (bleugh), Justin Bieber, John Legend, Taylor Swift (bleugh, once again), Ed Sheeran, it was just great. Slightly dissonant at times, but I have a feeling it had more to do with the fact that the song being sung was by One Direction or Taylor Swift rather than the people singing it being inharmonious.

We also went to Cornwall beach on the Sunday, which I’m sure would have been a lot nicer if it wasn’t cold. But I had a foolproof and simple plan to stay warm and happy: Stay. Out. Of. The. Sea.

Did I stick to the plan? No.

In fact, the first thing I did when I got to the beach was strip down to my swimming costume and run into the sea.

Did I stay warm and happy? No. You know why? Because I didn’t STICK TO THE PLAN.

To be fair, the water was really clear and there were very few rocks or seaweed, so I didn’t feel like my legs were being attacked by the marine manifestation of Ursula in her hybrid human-Cephalopod form. (A little Disney/scientific classification reference there for all you fans). I also managed to get sand EVERYWHERE (that’s genuinely the one thing I hate about the beach) BUT we made a sand-mermaid, which I have to say was perhaps one of my greatest artistic feats to this day.

So not entirely bad.

It was also lovely because me and Sparkle got to bond, and we went on a long, romantic stroll down the beach and she and I walked for ages and just talked and talked. I was a bit of a psychiatrist, is that what they’re called? Therapist, psychologist, counsellor? Whatever they are, I was that for about an hour and a half. But I really love listening to her and I’m so glad that God put us both into each other’s lives.

AND – this is one of the best parts – last week when I went to Hampton Court Palace (#HistorySquadDayOut) I had a bag of Bombay Mix, but I forgot that I hadn’t finished it. So when we were at the beach and my sister whipped out a bag of half-full Bombay Mix from her snacks bag, you simply can NOT understand how fast my heart began to beat. It was one of the most beautiful moments. So I say:

The only thing more beautiful than discovering food is when you FORGET that you have food and THEN discover it.

You can quote me.

What else to say? When we left on Monday afternoon I was really sad but at least I got to sing with Spaceboy and Caesar one last time, which was really the cherry on the vegan-cake for the last day.

The theme of the camp ‘The Armour of God’ was also really nice; it gave us lots of opportunities for different activities and I know I thought about quite a lot of things differently after all of that. It was nice seeing that the people running it – the main oragniser and all the speakers – were genuinely so invested in us youth. Like they really cared; not just about what they were saying, but about each one of us as individuals. At the end of the four days, I felt really encouraged spiritually, physically, emotionally and mentally. And musically.

I’ve probably written a lot of mostly incoherent nonsense, so I’ll sign off here with a few shoutouts:

Shoutout to anyone mentioned who’s reading this…

Shoutout to ‘Las Problematiques’ and Tarq – I miss you guys…

Shoutout to the toilet lid for being down…

Shoutout to NASA for having our backs since 6000BC and creating the ozone layer…

Shoutout to my mum, for having me, which made this blog post possible…

And shoutout to my sister for being a loser and belting songs from the ‘Les Miserables’ OST all. Morning.

Goodbye everyone and lots of love

From the Faerie Squad Mother x

post

No Lo Entiendo

Why is sexual infidelity such a popular plot device?

As a means of revision, I’ve watched four episodes of a Spanish TV series – mostly because they speak VERY fast, and if I can understand them, then I can DEFINITELY understand the exam track, and also because they have some really good vocabulary and my Spanish teacher suggested it.

And, don’t get me wrong, it’s been really helpful, because you’re learning and being entertained (for the 61% of the time that you actually understand what’s being said) at the same time.

But I just don’t understand why cheating partners and complex love triangles are necessary.

The program I’m watching, ‘Velvet’ on Netflix, is originally in Spanish, and I’m using Spanish subtitles, because the actor’s mouths move so fast I can barely even grasp what they’ve said before someone replies to them. (!) Set in 50s and 60s Spain, it focuses around a fashion retail store, the eponymous (no surprise) ‘Velvet’ and follows the life of ‘el dueño’, the owner of the store, Alberto Marquéz. He and Ana Ribera, a woman who works for the retailer as a seamstress, have been in love since childhood, and after a botched attempt at running away together (he crashed the car when he heard on the radio that his dad, the original owner of the store, had committed suicide) they decide to just stay with the way things are.

But naturally, that doesn’t work out. After he proposes to her, he finds out that ‘las galerías de Velvet’, the ‘Velvet galleries’ are in a lot of debt. Too much debt, as the plot goes, to even continue as it is. It appears that Ana will have to marry a broke heir. (Gasp. Shock. Horror.) So, what’s the solution for Alberto?

Ask for money from a rich man, whose daughter, Cristina, is enamoured with him. And of course – herein lies the initial birth of complex love triangles – Cristina’s father says he will give Alberto ALL the money he needs… if Alberto will marry his daughter.

Let’s not forget that Alberto is already engaged here. But then, of COURSE, Alberto is conflicted – because he NEEDS the money, but he also NEEDS Ana – and tells her the choice he has. So then, of COURSE Ana does the ‘right’ thing and breaks up with him so that he can save ‘las galerías’, but obviously, after them both being so damn self-righteous, they’re both heartbroken. And thus begins the love triangle. Ana is in love with Alberto. Alberto is in love with Ana. Cristina (i.e. the source of money) is in love with Alberto. Alberto breaks up with Ana to marry Cristina. (They’re not married yet but please be aware that this has all literally happened within 4 episodes!)

That’s not even the best part. Ana almost goes to Barcelona on a train, when she hears Alberto propose to Cristina at a huge press event, but then she doesn’t. She just changes her mind, just like that. Even though her suitcase was packed and she had a dramatic journey to the train station and everything. And you know how we find out she didn’t leave? Alberto goes home from the big party (where he publicly proposed to Cristina) and Ana is just in his house. She’s just IN HIS HOUSE. JUST THERE.

So that’s my first complaint. Why the complicated love triangle? Why couldn’t Alberto just say to Cristina’s dad, “You know what, mate. I’d LOVE to marry your daughter, but regretfully, I can’t. I’m already promised to another. Can we please try a different course of action that doesn’t entail me lying to your daughter or me being in a generally loveless marriage?” I’m not even going to try to translate that into Spanish. Not to mention that Cristina is just HELLA annoying – she constantly looks like a dying puppy. Alberto and Ana are STRESSING me out; even a person who didn’t understand what they were saying (in other words, me 49% of the time) would be able to figure out how WHIPPED they are on each other.

And to make matters better, some designer guy, called De la Riva or something (I don’t know!) who is CLEARLY in love (or at least, was at some point in his life) with Cristina, is coming to design a new range for ‘Velvet’. Like it’s so obvious, he keeps being like to her, “Estás muy guapa. Estás preciosa. Estás maravilloso.” (Which means, “you’re so pretty. You’re beautiful. You’re marvellous.” Which is dodgy because, like Alberto is standing RIGHT there. And OKAY, he doesn’t love her, but De la Riva doesn’t know that!) WELL I WONDER WHAT WILL HAPPEN NOW.

But it just gets worse. Ana’s roommate, Rita – who is my actual FAVE, she’s such a sweetheart – is in love with her sister’s boyfriend, Pedro. Not to mention that Pedro is WHIPPED on his girlfriend, Clara, but Clara has gotten a new job as a secretary of the office to Alberto’s best friend, Mateo. And – naturally, because what is a TV show without a womanising best friend? – Mateo seduces Clara and Clara is torn between her BOYFRIEND and a GUY WHO IS TRYING TO GET INTO HER PANTS. I guarantee she will end up pregnant for the SUB-DIRECTOR (yes, because not only do we like complicated love triangles and sexual infidelity, but also inter-class relationships; and very dramatically so) and he will ditch her.

Like, there’s nothing wrong with inter-class relationships (is that even a thing? that sounds so pretentious!) but why is EVERY single main relationship in the program EMPHASISING the idea of forbidden love? Ana is an orphaned seamstress, her man is the heir to a multi-million euro company. Clara is a sales-advisors-cum-secretary; her love interest is the best friend to said heir and the sub-director to said multi-million euro company. Rita is in love with the VERY much unavailable Pedro; the boyfriend of ‘su hermana’.

I could go on, but I won’t. (Only 12 more minutes to this revision break now…)

And what else? Well, Luisa, Ana’s other friend, has a very sick husband. An initially nice benefactor, a really rich man called Francisco, who gets Luisa her job back when she’s fired, and begins paying very DODGY attention to her when Luisa is helping his WIFE with her dresses that she buys, pays for her husband to get treatment in a hospital. Which is great right?

WRONG. Because in TV shows, when a rich man shows up and offers to help out a pretty young girl, we all KNOW what’s coming.

He makes a move on her. This disgusting old man literally tells her that unless she ‘thanks him’ (euphemism intended) then her husband won’t be able to keep his bed in the hospital. Which is ridiculous really. (And – another prediction – I don’t doubt she’s going to end up killing him, probably with some sewing implement, like scissors or a needle or something, I don’t doubt it for a second).

I mean, I can’t even keep up. I’ve watched four episodes, and so far there has been:

  • A suicide
  • A funeral
  • Some fainting
  • Dramatic carrying of said-fainted person
  • A failed elopement
  • A car crash
  • A proposal
  • A break-up
  • Another proposal
  • A long-lost son returning
  • Some sort of financial scam perpetrated by said ‘long-lost son’
  • Like 3 or 4 affairs (I can’t keep up?)
  • LOTS of blackmail – so much, I didn’t know was possible
  • A few trysts (of course, Alberto and Ana)
  • Some broken hearts
  • Lots of tears
  • Dramatic raining scenes
  • Political Intrigue (ay! Get some History knowledge up in here…)
  • Some foreboding break-ups
  • Implied incest (see: ‘long-lost son’)
  • Stolen stuff (dresses, kisses, money, hearts, you know the sort)

Anyway, I regret searching ‘Wikia’ because I found out something that I REALLY didn’t want to know. So know, if I watch it, rather than reading the subtitles, all I’ll be thinking about a certain character is, “I’m watching a dead man walking.” And that makes me cry a lot. So I don’t think I can watch it anymore for the plot; I’ll just watch it for the vocabulary.

I mean, on the plus side, I now have two sheets of A4 paper, both double-sided with new words and such that are relevant to my course. Which is good right?

But I still have to ask:

Why is sexual infidelity such a popular plot device?

There are very few TV programs in general that steer entirely clear from this plot device. (Except for maybe ‘Downton Abbey’ but there are definitely a lot of sex scandals in that even still…) But why? – is my question. Are the writers and directors so bored they feel like they have to include this ‘exciting’ device? Or is a TV program just not complete without people who cheat and don’t (or do) get caught?

Either way, ‘no lo entiendo‘.

My revision break is over, so now I must desaparecer.

The Faerie Squad Mother x

post

Perpetual Percentages

I am currently sitting at my desk with a tab open with YouTube playing and the face of Henry VIII from my history textbook disconcertingly staring at me.
I don’t know what I’ve come here to talk about but seeing as I haven’t posted anything since February, I thought I might maybe once again grace the face of my own blog.
What is there to update you on? Well, I have my first actual AS Level exam this Friday. Nobody panic, it’s just Drama. Well… I say JUST but I’m only doing this one practical, so it’s pretty damn important and Drama is my AS Level, so I can’t afford to flop this one.

#ThanksBritishEducationSystem
I’d rant about it but I really can’t be bothered to rant about anything right now. That’s a lie, I want to rant but I have nothing to rant about. And I always whine about the British Education system anyway. We already know how flawed it is.

My internet is also playing up, so I have had to refresh this bar several times. My music doesn’t want to play anymore because it seems like this is ‘Violate Rianna’ Day – it says ‘Problem loading page’ – and so I’ve had to literally copy and paste all my blog post text onto a WORD document (a Word Document… am I living in the dark ages, internet provider?) so I can continue to write unhindered without the worry that the website will crash and I will lose all my carefully crafted sentences.

I lie, they’re not carefully crafted. But would you like to know what IS carefully crafted? My witty responses to people when they’re stressing me out. I’m not a funny person (I admit it, reluctantly, although it may surprise you to hear) but for some reason, I become funny when I’m being witty and sarcastic. Although I know several people who would contest this, let me tell you, it’s like every ounce of humour is being stored up within me, and I simply cannot access it. But then suddenly, in one moment of scathing wit and sass, every single bit of humour pours out of me, with the force and intensity of a skilfully-wielded sledgehammer, and it is truly mind-blowing.

I’d also like to take this moment to point out I like to exaggerate things a lot. If I was to rewrite that last sentence, I’d replace the phrase ‘skilfully-wielded sledgehammer’ with the phrase ‘all-destructive tsunami’. Perhaps that works better in toning down my hyperbole.

English is going well. I didn’t think I’d like Frankenstein at first, I can’t lie, but I have come to a grudging tolerance of it. Perhaps myself and the novel’s relationship will improve sometime in the near future, but I wouldn’t stake my life on it, to be entirely honest. Also, I recently starred (I say ‘starred’ but all I did was read) as the part of Blanche in ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’. I think I did an alright job, considering that I gave her one of the poshest British accents you could imagine (despite the fact that she comes from SOUTHERN America) and that I – like Blanche DuBois – am the epitome of a ‘Southern Belle’.

[Rianna’s Note: The internet has returned and I’ve managed to reload my YouTube but I’m not going to be so trusting of WordPress just yet… Also, le sister has just called me for dinner, so I shall return in a few short moments after this undetectable break…]

Para la mayoría, Español me haces querer a morir. (That sentence was probably wrong anyway, but I think that it means: For the most part, Spanish makes me want to die) It’s definitely great, because I love learning it and it’s an amazing skill to have – as in, speaking another widely-spoken language – but the standard which we learn it at is no longer the standard where you can breeze through. Like there’s so much effort involved and so much work and so much grammar. And so many rules! Like they say, you have to learn the rules to be able to break them, but there are so many more irregular verbs and conjugations than you would ever believe!

[Rianna’s Note: The internet has once again removed itself from my computer, so Windows Media Player is now the best substitute for YouTube. By the way, do I get money from these endorsements, because I’m actually mentioning them? Windows should sponsor me LOL @BillGates do you want to sponsor me? I’m more than happy to write positively about Microsoft for a few thousand dollars or so.]

But History is the only thing that is (mostly) not making me want to die. The source papers are a joke and Edward VI’s and Mary I’s ecclesiastical policies are going to be the death of me. We can summarise all by saying, “Somerset was useless, Northumberland was LESS useless, Edward was completely useless, Jane was useless, Mary was useless, Phillip was just a complete idiot and nothing was restored effectively until Elizabeth took the throne.”

But would I get full marks for writing that in an essay? No.

[Rianna’s Note: I just did some quick research on Microsoft and apparently Bill Gates is no longer the largest shareholder, it’s some guy called Steve Ballmer so @SteveBalmer or @BillGates, whichever one of you it is, please. Honestly, I won’t even ask for that much.]
And let’s discuss how PEAK Mary I’s life was. She came to the throne after both her father and half-brother had disinherited her. She misinterpreted England’s support for her as support for her almost fanatical Roman Catholicism, and decided, ‘Great, I have England’s support so I’ll change making drastic changes and burn people at the stake.’ To make it worse, she married a Roman Catholic Spaniard, Philip (technically Felipe, if you want to be entirely correct) II of Spain, who was already responsible for the Inquisition in Spain, and together they pretty much tore down the name of Roman Catholicism in England and forced Protestants to the continent. (Which just means mainland Europe, so I’m not sure why they call it ‘the continent’ like it’s the only one in the world…)

But the BEST bit (and by best, I mean worst) about her life, was the fact that her husband didn’t even love her. Not even a tiny bit. And he didn’t even pretend. He’d literally visit England, burn some Protestants, do his ‘duty’ by her (i.e. sleep with her and try to pop out some heirs) and then return to Spain. He’d GET UP after sleeping with her and then hop on the next boat to Spain. How much of a violation is that?

Not just that, but as soon as she died – without children, may I add – he proposed to another gal. Which doesn’t seem so bad, if we disregard the fact that his new proposed affiance was none other than Mary’s sister, Elizabeth I. He really had no shame.
I feel like Philip would be that guy who you’d message, then he take 43 hours to respond, and when he finally opens your message, he wouldn’t even respond. He’d just leave you on read. You get me @Squad?
I mean, personally, I don’t like Philip, but each to their own, eh?

[Rianna’s Note: I found out that neither Steve nor Bill are the CEO of Microsoft. The CEO is in fact Satya Nadella. @Steve @Bill @Satya, please don’t let me suffer here in the depths of hell that is the British education system. Seriously. I’ll say whatever you want me to about your products. Not that many people read what I write anyway, but take pity on me. How else will I pay for my Higher Education? If I tag Microsoft in this, will they be more likely to see my desperate pleas?]

On a combined Spanish and History note, however, my Tudor teacher told us that there is a gap in the Tudor field for competent Spanish speakers. Because obviously, as Philip (yes, the Spanish one whom I do not have an affiliation with) was a pretty important figure in Tudor England, a lot of his documents are undecipherable, because they’re in Spanish. Not to mention, you can hardly Google translate the jumble of language that is Tudor English, let alone medieval Spanish in relation to the Tudors.
So she told us we all have to go to King’s College, and that myself and Babs have to go into Tudor history as we’re the only two in the class who do Spanish, and basically decipher the important documents. (She didn’t specify which important documents, but there ya go. Life plan mapped out for us by teachers LOL)

[Rianna’s Note: The internet is slowly coming back and then going again.]

What more nonsense do I have to ramble about?
Well, I’ve made some more friends since February and March. Which is great, right? And one of them (shoutout to Becky, if you’re reading this LMAO) literally understands every single one of my struggles.

Also, there’s this girl who I usually see travelling home on my route, but I figured she lives in my area. But we take different routes home, so I figured out her route. And we always see each other but we’ve never spoken. But today, I went to my Consortium school and she is friends with one of the girls in my group I suppose? So, she was walking with us and stayed with us for a bit and it turns out she’s actually hilarious. (Who would have thought, right?) Anyway, I’ve finally spoken to her; she told me she figured out my route home too – which is entirely NOT creepy, because that’s the sort of things girls do – and we’ve agreed to talk whenever we see each other now. Que fabuloso. (See, my Spanish isn’t entirely wasted!)

[Rianna’s Note: My back hurts. Also my dad just brought a new battery for my laptop, because the one before was completely WHACKED. Literally, if you used the laptop, you’d have to keep it plugged in and charging or the computer would switch off. And even when it was plugged into the power cable, it wouldn’t charge. It just stayed at 34% perpetually, until it’s perpetual percentage dropped to 20%, then I was terrified it was going to die. So I just kept it on all the time. But now it’s fine so praise the Lord, I can walk it around the house without having to bring my power cable everywhere.]

Well, I think I’m done. This has been a productive use of time. I need to bring a slice of bread into school tomorrow for Drama, and I have to sort out my costume, so I’ll just go now and sort out my life. (Still in the continual process of doing so, but at least I’m getting somewhere!)

Love
The Faerie Squad Mother x

p.s. I did, in fact, hyperlink as many social media sites as I could find from those three guys from Microsoft, so let’s hope they see my plea and fund my life.

post