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’sĀ  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. šŸ™‚

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

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

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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. šŸ™‚

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,Ā  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. šŸ™‚

[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. šŸ™‚ )

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. šŸ™‚ )

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. šŸ™‚

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. šŸ™‚

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. šŸ™‚

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

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p.s. I’m kidding mum.

A Pensive Cerebration of the Capricious and Fickle Nature of Human Beings

I know the title of this post is long and somewhat laborious, but I thought it the best phrase to even partially express the sentiments of my post. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, how disloyal and selfish human beings can be, especially in terms of our relationships. Our intentions and emotions are forever changing, the shifts in our relationships meant to accommodate those respective emotional modifications – more often than not, however, with such revisions only considering the person making the changes.

Not all changes are purposeless, I’m sure it goes without saying. There are toxic relationships which need to be eliminated; no matter how much one tries to justify abusive relationships (emotional, verbal or physical in either a romantic or platonic situation) there is little else more damaging in the life of the average human being. And of course, people change. Admitting such only further stresses the necessity to be rid of certain burdensome associations, as the person they have become is, of course, NOT the same person whom you initially befriended.

Sometimes it’s funny to think how much people change. In general, change is a positive thing, but it can also be a stumbling block in the way of relationships. Anybody you know, at any time without warning, could decide they no longer want to be a part of your life, be it a boyfriend, a best friend, a parent, a relative, whoever. They have the ability to choose to destabilize even the most sturdy and reliable of relationships, though I suppose whether they have the right to is another question altogether. But like it or not, it happens. And people do change, suddenly, without warning, leaving your friendship in broken shards or your relationship in pieces of fragmented heart – and there you are, wondering what you did wrong.

But when you really think it about it, it’s not always other people changing. A lot of the time, it’s ourselves. We change – be it for better or for worse.

We become more mature, or immature. We grow emotionally, mentally, spiritually, or we regress. We think differently, we meet new people, we explore and discover things which we have never before seen the like. Or we don’t. Whatever the case, these changes in us affect our currently-existing relationships, either negatively or positively, depending on the respective change in the other party as well.

When your best friends looks at you, and notes with disgust in her voice, “You’ve changed”, she’s not lying. You HAVE changed. It’s just that those changes have now made you the better person and put you at an assumed advantage in that friendship; and she doesn’t like those changes. The problem is not that you have changed. The problem is that she HASN’T.

When you watch your best friend looking at you with sad eyes as you tell her sympathetically, “I’ve changed”, although she doesn’t want to believe it, you have. It’s just that those changes in you have left your relationship undefined and in new, uncharted territories, and now offers you neither comfort nor happiness. The problem might not be that she hasn’t changed. Perhaps the problem is that you have.

But change should never be the foundation upon which a relationship is built. Too often, people make friends or date someone with the intention of ‘changing’ them, which is effectively saying, “I won’t accept you as you are; you must fit into MY mould.” No matter how you want to look at it, it’s often selfish – the ‘fixer-upper’ ideology – but also dangerous. Building relationships purely on the projected view of what you envision the person to have become after you have finished ‘changing’ them, means that you are never content with people as they are. You simply want them to be your version of themselves.

And staying in a relationship because of a change you hope to happen is also not a great idea. I mean, I know that many times the only thing standing between you and a successful friendship or happy marriage is a bad habit, but the assumption that the other person will change purely to satisfy your needs within that relationship is also not great. It means that you will hang onto relationships way past their ‘sell-by’ date purely because of the misguided hope that they will change; not just for the better, but also in the specific way that you want them to.

Yes, there are cases where people can change, when they realise that they have an issue or some other insurmountable problem which stands in the way of a fruitful relationship with you, but THEY are the only ones able to dictate when that change will come about. You cannot neither force nor expect someone to change. Change comes about naturally, and though you may make the person aware of their flaw or whatever other imperfections, they have the ultimate choice as to whether to act upon it or ignore your counsel and seek a happy relationship elsewhere.

Sometimes change is necessary for growth. A snake cannot grow without shedding its skin, and though this may be a somewhat difficult process, leaving behind the old allows you to move forward into the new. Not every relationship you have will always be long-lasting. Some are superficial and have their ‘expiration dates’, and that’s okay. Of course, it’s important to recognise such friendships; because they are so short-lived and intense, they can drain you as they are often emotionally demanding and exhaust your energy reserves, not to mention, your mobile contract.

And of course, I am speaking in the assumption that only one party of the relationship changes. It is likely that both could change. If you both change for the better, growing together and developing healthily through your relationship, then despite changing times or seasons, your relationship will go the distance. If you both change for the worse, despite your identical poor choices, you may stay together, both blissfully unaware of your regression. If one changes for the better and one changes for the worse, it is likely that the former will become hyper-aware of their respective changes and either make the latter aware of their flaws or leave them.

What I’m trying to say is, in every situation, there are lessons to be learned. Whether one of you or both of you change, or even don’t change, there is always something about you which can be improved, if you are willing to be open to positive growth and constructive criticism.

As I noted in the title, the natural nature of human beings appears to be irrevocably fickle and it is becoming abundantly clear that we are consistent in only one thing – inconsistency.

I’m not entirely sure how to end this, as I realise that my blog post very closely resembles one of my equally pretentious essays for English Literature. I suppose I can only say that I am perhaps misguided on many things which I’ve commented on, but that I hope it offers insight for some people and that it is, for the most part, relatable.

Look at that, I even included a conclusion.

Goodnight everyone, wherever you are.

The Faerie Squad Mother x

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Being The Minority

So the past couple of days have been an interesting experience to say the least. But let me not get ahead of myself.

Good morning/afternoon/evening (wherever you all are), this is the first time I am addressing you as a 16-year old Empress! How fantastic!

Anyways, now we’re done with that. So my family and I had a bit of a holiday this week; we didn’t go abroad, just to a small village, which I cannot name for obvious reasons which you will later discover. We stayed in a hotel, about a 5-minute drive away from the village centre (as in, probably their equivalent of a high-street or whatever) and so on the Monday afternoon, we get there and we check-in. Once we put all our cases and everything in our rooms, we go back downstairs so we can have dinner.

That was the first alarm bell. (We didn’t know it yet, but it slowly dawned on us). On the way through the lounge to the Restaurant, we got a lot of awfully odd looks; people were double-taking, some people were staring, and lots of people were doing that awkward ‘I’m-staring-but-if-you-look-at-me-I’ll-keep-eye-contact-for-about-5-more-seconds-until-it-becomes-uncomfortable-and-then-look-away-just-to-make-sure-you-saw-me-looking-at-you’ sorta thing. So naturally, as a family that is mostly unfazed, we ignore them.

We went back to our rooms after and got ready for bed. (Although myself and my little sister – who I have now decided to crown Princess – stayed up so she could post my birthday tribute on Instagram at midnight… and then I COULDN’T sleep because I was absolutely stunned by the intensity of raw beauty my friend posted of me also… But at any rate, we got to bed pretty late)

Then we woke up and went downstairs to have breakfast. That was the second alarm bell. The seating staff dude for the morning looked up at us from the desk and seemed a little startled. After he led us to the table, we all split to go and get our food, and more alarm bells started ringing. (Not literally, that’d be a little bit scary). People kept staring, we got even more weird looks, one guy was double-taking so much I’m pretty sure he got a headache.

By this point, I was pretty sick of all the looks, so whenever people looked at me, I’d give them the sickliest-sweet smile I could conjure up. And then they would blush embarrassed and turn away.

I thought it might get better, but NO. It only got worse.

Later in the day, we went into the village centre, to get some food and to just stroll around and explore, seeing as we were in this lovely, quaint little village and it was my birthday and it was like, well why not?

I’ll tell you why not.

Because it was like we were wild, exotic animals walking through a zoo of spectators. My sister, the Princess, and I stopped at a window-front display, and she looked at this teddy-bear she liked, and went, “Oh wow, Rianna look at how cute that is!” Then I heard a gasp.

‘How strange!’ I thought to myself. ‘Teyah doesn’t usually gasp…’ So I turned to her to ask her if she had gasped, and her face mirrored my expression of confusion. Which in itself answered my question. No she had not gasped.

In fact, the woman who HAD gasped was about 5 steps away from us, walking briskly down the road, and kept looking back over her shoulder at us with these wide-eyes. We couldn’t stop laughing.

Later, my mum and dad told me that they had had a similar experience; they were walking down the road and three little children in a car had pointed out the window at them in excitement – then their mother had also joined in with them.

What started off as irritating slowly became funny. We were walking to Tesco’s and two teenagers, a guy and a girl, came out of a shop; teenagers who looked like the ones, whom, in London, I would ordinarily avoid – just move out of the way for. They looked pretty intimidating. But they gave me one glance, and it was like their faces were streaked with terror, and the BOY, this intimidating looking boy, actually ended up in the road on an effort to move out of my way on the pavement.

Every shop we went into (because the shop’s were pretty tiny) the shopkeeper’s eyes would LITERALLY follow us around the whole way. When we bought stuff in Tesco’s and went to the self-checkout till, nearly every other shopper’s eyes watched us.

It was so strange.

But that wasn’t even the HIGHLIGHT of it all.

Because not only were we treated like an exhibition, we simultaneously got treated like we were invisible.

The final evening we were there, Wednesday evening, when we went down to dinner, we sat in a relatively accessible place. Like, there were quite a lot of other people sitting nearby. We had the staring spectacle of course (but what else could be expected at this point?) from a girl and her brothers? cousins? who all looked around our age.

But then – and this was the BEST part of all – a family, or perhaps a bunch of friends, came to sit near to us. They sat on the table next to us and ensued in very loud conversation. [Conversation which, if anything, only reinforced the fact that they were racist.]

The man, I assumed, was talking about his daughter. He looked about 60, with greying hair, and was talking animatedly about this woman; I figured it was his daughter or his wife, but it was more likely the former. Anyway, my mum and I only managed to jump into the conversation at the part where he started talking about her travelling and all her journeys around the world.

“And yes, one year she decided to go to India.” (It seemed that she was working abroad a lot, I think it was for her job as she was working for a bank or something? From what I gathered anyway…) “She said that her experience there was very interesting but,” at this point, he leaned in as if confiding a secret, “the only trouble was the flight… because of…” he paused for effect, chuckled, taking a sip from his long-stemmed glass of wine, “well, the Hindus.” At which point they all burst out into unabridged, racist crooning at his entirely UNFUNNY and OFFENSIVE joke. I mean, let’s just forget for a moment that what he said was offensive, basically saying the flight wasn’t enjoyable because of the Indian passengers on it, he is also assuming that EVERY INDIAN IS HINDU. Which they are not.

My mum and I looked at each other with wide open mouths. We were actually stunned that anyone could say that. But it got even better when he continued.

“She loves travelling abroad, but there’s always a language barrier for her. She can’t adjust well to the culture.” All things which suggested, my mum jokingly informed me, that perhaps she should stop travelling, because clearly if ‘Hindus’ were an issue on the plane flight, then how would she expect to fare in an entire country FULL of them?! “She could practically COUNT the number of British” (by British, he meant white) “people who were there as well!”

Boo hoo. I thought. That’s my life all the time. That’s my life RIGHT now. Wherever we go places, we can COUNT on one hand the number of black people. Why are you suddenly surprised by this? Oh that’s right; because except from when you travel, (and even then, it depends on where you go) you’re NEVER in the minority. I live my LIFE in the minority.

He went on.

“But when she came to England to work, she found it so much more enjoyable.” Of course she would, my mum added, surrounded in her own culture. “And her work was based in [location], which was great because she didn’t have to commute so much from where she stayed in [location]. She had a lovely little studio flat and a fantastic view.”

“But then they [her company business] relocated to Canary Wharf, and it became an absolute NIGHTMARE for her to commute.”

Oh no! My mum and I crooned. How hard it must be when your business relocates to the central hub of business in London (and also the world) and you have to TRAVEL in on public transport! Oh no! Such #FirstWorldProblems! All the people he was talking to sympathetically ‘awwwwwww’d and he nodded with a face of such sincerity that me and my mum started laughing again.

“So, is she permanently employed then?” One of the women sitting with him directed the question at him. He shook his head with such conviction.

“No, not really. She is partially on the work force, but if they start chopping jobs and sacking people, then she could lose her job.” At which point, I had to shake MY head sympathetically.

I’ve got two words for you, Mr. Racist Wine-Drinker: White. Privilege.

Your daughter would not be one of the first to be unemployed, especially considering the fact that she is the one constantly travelling the world for her company (she also went to Singapore, some countries in Europe, and has been to Australia so much that she has a flat out there) and not to mention the fact that you CLEARLY come from old-money; so regardless of whether she is kept or sacked (and most likely, the FORMER), she has pretty much worked her life away for this company (he never mentioned any partner, or kids of hers) so she is sitting pretty for the rest of her life.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I present to you, the plight of a black family in a small village in England. That was the reason we got so many stares from people. Because we were perhaps the only black people that some of them had ever seen. That was why we got gasped at, and pointed at, and stared at, and talked about, and ignored, and watched, and followed.

Because we were black. Now, if you know me, I totally hate using the race card, but this is one situation where it actually does apply.

The small-mindedness and ignorance (and in some situations, racism) of these people actually astounded me. I mean, I’m not stupid, I know racism exists – I live my life at the receiving end of it – but I didn’t realise how condensed it was in certain areas, and how concentrated those areas were.

But that’s my little rant for this morning. A bit early for me but, ah well. Have a good morning/afternoon/evening everyone,

Empress Rianna

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I Have No

Inspiration right now.

Because of the fact that time is a limiting factor (gotta use my biology key words SOMEWHERE), tomorrow I’m going to do a post about something long and interesting. Right now, I’ll just give you an update on what’s happened in the past couple of days.

So, I’m out of London. (Woohoo!) I’m with Auntie Y and we have had lots of banter. I had to cook some pasta bake thing, and seeing as it’s not my kitchen, I’m obviously not used to working in it. But kitchens are kitchens, and once you know how to use the hob, then you’re fine, right?

Wrong.

I cook like a hurricane. Not that hurricanes can cook, but the mess left behind after I finish is ridiculous. (I mean, it mostly depends on what I’m cooking, but usually the kitchen looks close to a bomb site when I’ve finished…)

Anyway, I spent the first half hour in her kitchen asking her where everything was. (She was in the living room).

ME: “Where is one’s seasonings?”

AUNT: “One’s seasonings are in the magic corner.”

ME: (After some looking) “One has found them!” (After a pause) “Where is one’s wooden sp… Oh no wait, I found it. Never mind.” (Another pause) “What has one done with one’s grater?”

AUNT: “One’s grater is in the cupboard beside the fridge.”

ME: (Looking) “No, it’s not in this cupboard, I… Oh wait, you meant the one at the top. OK, I found it!”

And so on.

Maybe I’ll give you the recipe for my pasta bake one day. Probably not, because I mostly just made it up. Don’t tell my Aunt though! I mean… not that you could since you don’t know her but… Yeah…

I’m going off.

I’ve been into town with my cousin twice, and we went to Costa. I’d like to make it known here that COSTA HOT CHOCOLATE IS THE BEST IN THE WORLD. Even their cream is so gorgeous OH MY GOODNESS. But seriously. And I’ll be going back there soon when I get back to London.

Also, Susanna and I are going to loads of museums. The free ones of course. And maybe the #Squad might be able to sneak in a trip to Hampton Court Palace, depending on the prices. And how much money we have.

So far, I have been keeping up with a few of my Summer goals:

  • I haven’t woken up anytime before 7. LOL.
  • I had a mini Disney Dance Party the other day.
  • Last week my nails were nude. This week they’re white.
  • I played Sims 3.
  • I’m perfecting my Bristolian (West England) accent.
  • I have posted a few stupid photos of myself on Instagram. (i.e. me pulling stupid poses)
  • I haven’t GONE on it yet, but myself and the besties have gotten dates for our… well, date.

Unfortunately, I can’t start on the guitar learning, seeing as I’m not in London. I also can’t do much about the baby thing, because I’m still looking for one. šŸ˜¦

But I’m going to stop now, because I’ve been typing whilst watching ‘The Originals: Teen Mom’ and I’ve missed a lot, so now I need to rewind bits. Not that it’s a huge issue, but… I needed to post something today.

Goodnight everybody. Or should I say, good morning.

Queen Rianna

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Irony (Pt. 3)

OK, so I was supposed to write this about a year ago. (Hyperbole; that was a tad of an exaggeration!) But here it is.

So just to summarise the past two posts, Part 1 and Part 2, I was saying a great big thanks to all my infant and primary school teachers. Which I think would lead nicely into the people who inspire me right now. The only thing that has been bothering me really is the fact that I’m not sure if I’m allowed to use people’s names or not; especially teacher’s names, because they might not want me to. So I’ve had to abbreviate them and/or shorten them to make sure I don’t get in trouble. (Fingers crossed)

And so it begins. Seeing as I did my last two posts chronologically, I’m going to try the best I can to keep this chronological as well, but my mind is all over the place right now. I won’t be able to pinpoint exact years for most of them but this is a bit different because I think that I have LOADS of people to get through. Anyways:

My School Teachers:

  1. Miss C was my first head of year when I was in Year 7. She also taught me RE and she pushed me a lot in my lessons. I don’t know, but there’s something comforting about a teacher knowing you are clever but still challenging you to do more. She would always make me think more about the things I said. She asked questions which rivaled the ‘Bloom’s Taxonomy Stem’ thing, and as a result, really pushed my Year 7 brain to the max. I had her for 3 years for RE and I relished every lesson we had. Yes, it was challenging. Yes, it was difficult, but I think it was exactly what I needed. So thank you Miss C for being so cool and funny and making me enjoy RE. And also for helping me to take a broader look at the world.
  2. Mr D was my second head of year. I think he came about when I was in Year 8 and we had him all the way up to near the end of Year 9. He kind of reminded me of Mrs P (as in from Primary school), in that he often spoke to my mum a lot about different opportunities for me and helping me to move forward. I don’t remember him as a head of year much though, I more remember him as my History teacher. He was entertaining and actually grew my love of History, similar to Miss C (from Year 4). I guess being taught by him helped me to see how amazing History was. UNFORTUNATELY, I didn’t take it as a GCSE subject (though I slightly wish I had instead of Geography…) but I still won’t forget those lessons. So thank you, Mr D for showing me how amazing history is and encouraging me to do more.
  3. Mrs H is the careers guidance counsellor at my school. She was also my English teacher (she taught Poetry and Non-Fiction to us, the latter of which is one of THE most boring topics ever) and she was just lovely. Even when we had boring topics, she tried so hard to get us all engaged with her lessons. She puts so much efforts into everything and she is genuinely one of the loveliest teachers I have ever had the privilege to know. She regularly emails me with opportunities; a lot of the competitions I’ve entered and things that I’ve applied for have really all been from her. I’m so grateful that she is here, and so I want to say thanks Mrs H, because you are so awesome and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me so much!
  4. Lawly. I don’t think I really need to say much about her. She was my form tutor from Year 7 then was cruelly wrenched from us in Year 11… but she’s been like a school mother to me. She’s literally been there all the time. She’s seen me cry AT LEAST twice, we’ve had DMC’s in the sports hall at 8:00, before school even started. (And yet, I still can’t seem to grasp her accent; I want to learn how to do an Irish accent SOOO badly!) She has always pushed me to do more, she’s had insight into things I couldn’t even begin to imagine AND my mum loves her. Which is always a bonus really, because usually parents and teachers are not the best of friends LOL. But she has inspired me to do so much, and she is always so proud of my achievements. I love you a lot Lawly and thank you for always being there for me!
  5. I don’t REALLY want to mention ChaChaSquaPe, because he’s a bit useless… buuuutttt, him and Lawly have always opened their office to me whenever I’ve been distressed or just want to hang out and I don’t think I can thank him enough for his support. And of course, the ETERNAL banter. (Like, if it was on a Nando’s scale, I’d say his banter is EXTRA HOT, which a sprinkling of the extra hot sauce on your chips as well). He’s also taking us to Disneyland, so I need to be nice. šŸ™‚ But thank you Banksy, for putting up with me in your office, just talking at you and eating your muffins whilst you ‘do work’.
  6. Mrs P yes, ANOTHER one my favourite teacher (is this even allowed?) and my inspiration in English. I’m not sure what to say which I haven’t said about her already, but she is always encouraging me to do more, to work harder and to push my mind. She has helped me to bring out a more creative side, she has made English lessons enjoyable (not that they HAVEN’T been enjoyable because it’s my favourite subject… to be honest, even if I had Andy Murray teaching me English, I would still find a way of enjoying it) and she has supported me in every one of my endeavors. She told me I can be a writer. I am going to be a writer. Thank you Mrs P for instilling in me the encouragement and belief that I can do whatever I put my mind to. And also thank you for your super sweet letter at the end of Year 11. šŸ™‚

My Family:

  1. My twin sister, J, has been a huge inspiration for me. She’s been absolutely amazing and even when she was going through her struggles, has always been a support to me. I’ve always looked up to her, and she is working so hard, and I’m so proud of her. She has been with me through SO much (I try to forget all the conversations we had about certains, LOL šŸ˜‰ ) and she is the person who I will never be able to NOT be friends with because she knows FAR too much. But I won’t need to because I love her a lot and she has always been with me. Thanks, J, for being there for me when I needed you, and even when I didn’t know it, I would still know that you were beside me.
  2. Auntie L and Uncle B have been so amazing. They’ve put up with me constantly. Literally, they’ve had me for an entire month and I am SO grateful and feel so blessed to have amazing people like them in my life. Auntie L is a good listener; she will listen to me whine and she will make me feel like I have someone who understands me. Because she DOES understand me. And even when she doesn’t, it’s OK, because I know that she just gets me. She’s supported me through a lot, (in regards to boys LOL) and Uncle B has always provided me with sandwiches (though I know that is Teyah’s thing really) and home-cooked meals. I genuinely am so grateful to God for them and for their constant support. I love you both a lot.
  3. Auntie A is another mother to me. Even though she’s abroad a lot, she has played a huge part in raising me and making me the girl I am today. I can’t say thank you enough for all the things she’s done for me, the things she’s encouraged me to do, the person that she’s helped me to become. She was the one who helped me to come out of my shell, who guided me through all my friendship drama, who helped me to decide what I want to do when I’m older. It’s all down to her, and I don’t feel like saying thank you is enough. I love you so much Auntie.
  4. Antang is my other mother. (I have so many! I am so blessed, oh my!) Especially during my exams she’s been a humungous support, always been messaging me and encouraging me. I know whenever I need to, I can message her, and she’s opened her home to me so many times. The messages, the pictures, the words of encouragement and support… Antang, you REALLY don’t know how much I appreciated this. Sometimes, it’s just small things that keep you going. I love you a lot Antang.
  5. My big sister, Gabbster, has been there ALL THE TIME. She has literally been my driving force through this entire exam period, she is around when I need her and even when I don’t know that I need her, she is there for me. She has done so much for me that I don’t even think I’ll be able to repay, but seeing her get where she is is an inspiration to me. She gives me hope for my future and she is such a hard-worker. She doesn’t whine about the curveballs that life throws her; she catches them and throws them straight back at life twice as hard. I love you so much Gabbster, and I am so so thankful that God put you in my life, because you have inspired me in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.
  6. Last but not least, Auntie Y. Even though I don’t get to see her often, she leaves a lasting impression on me, even when she’s not there with me! LOL. She inspires me because she is such a hard-worker. She is so selfless and I look up to her. I want to be like her so much when I am older. She is so kind and caring, and funny, and she is just so effortlessly friendly. Anyone who has the privilege of knowing my Aunt has the privilege of being friends with an amazing person. I love her so much, and I’m so glad that I’m related to her.

Of course, since the whole point of these three posts were about saying thank you and being grateful for all the wonderful people God has put into (and also, taken out of) my life, I am also going to send a huge I LOVE YOU and THANK YOU to my fellow Astellians (Susanna, Sazza, Babs and Ewnte) and also The Cheeky Lads (Frazza, Dezza, Kazza and Izzy) for sticking by me through a lot. You are genuinely great friends, even greater people, and I know you will all go on to do amazing things in life. (Stop laughing, I am serious).

AND OF COURSE, how could I forget my AMAZING mother and father for a) giving birth to me (no small feat, if you ask my mum), b) KEEPING me, because really they were under no obligation to do that, c) PUTTING UP WITH ME for almost 16 years, and just being there. Yes, we have our disagreements and fallouts, but you’re the ones who will be there for me no matter what, even when everything else goes wrong and people leave, I know that you two are the ones who are there constantly. The sacrifices you have both made to get my sister to where we both are today… Words cannot describe how much I love you and am grateful for all the things you do.

I’ve said amazing quite a lot in this post, so please excuse me.

I don’t think that we acknowledge the people who mean the most to us often enough. Nor do we acknowledge people who have done a lot for us. This is my attempt to rectify that, though it’s pretty long and soppy (LOL) I guess it’s the thought that counts, right?

At any rate, I think I’m done now. HOPEFULLY, I didn’t miss anyone! (If I did, then I am SO SO sorry and I love you a lot!) But I guess, thanks for reading my soppy post. I am currently sitting in the aforementioned PE Office in the corner of the room, while Lawly does some admin stuff and Banksy was just whining down the phone about some exercise books he wants to order. I think he’s settled on purple for the music books.

Amazing people.

Love you all,

Queen Rianna

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I Did It

I landed on it.

The second after I posted my Monopoly Stats Update post… I landed on it. I was on the jail square and I got 10. This is a miracle.

Queen Rianna

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p.s. If I never post again, you know it’s because of my sister. She has probably murdered me out of jealousy.

Monopoly Stats (Updated)

Character: BOOT (Opponents: Top Hat – Sister)

Current Position on Board: Vine Street

Money: Ā£1,119

(9 x Ā£1, 1 x Ā£5, 0 x Ā£10, 3 x Ā£20, 3 x Ā£50, 3 x Ā£100, 1 x Ā£500)

Places on Board Owned:

  • Euston Road and The Angel, Islington
  • Northumberland Avenue
  • Trafalgar Square and Strand
  • Leicester Square
  • Oxford Street
  • Mayfair and Park Lane
  • Kings Cross Station and Liverpool Street

EXTRAS: Get Out Of Jail Card (Yes, still!)

Am doing slightly better…The stakes are very high now. This is unreal. We’re doing the thing where you put all the money into the middle and whoever lands on the “Free Parking” Square gets all the money. The total in the middle is Ā£4,715.

I’ll just repeat that for all of you who didn’t get that:

FOUR THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED and FIFTEEN POUNDS.

So far, neither myself nor my sister have managed to land on it. This is unreal. This is unreal. How? We keep landing on Vine Street and Strand (the spaces either side of it) but not the ACTUAL space. This is unreal.

Unreal.

Not to mention the fact that I was prematurely celebrating – like, literally, I was jumping up and down in the kitchen for ages – when I thought I rolled a 10… but I had rolled a 9. I can’t even count. This is how delirious the game is making me. Delusional.

Back in a few,

Queen Rianna

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Monopoly Stats

Character: BOOT (Opponents: Ship – Alex and Top Hat – Sister)

Current Position on Board: GO Square

Money: Ā£395

(5 x Ā£1, 2 x Ā£5, 1 x Ā£10, 1 x Ā£20, 1 x Ā£50, 3 x Ā£100)

Places on Board Owned:

  • Euston Road and The Angel, Islington
  • Northumberland Avenue
  • Vine Street
  • Trafalgar Square and Strand
  • Leicester Square
  • Oxford Street
  • Mayfair
  • Kings Cross Station and Liverpool Street

EXTRAS: Get Out Of Jail Card

Clearly, I am not doing too well. (Sorry Poca LOL, I’m stepping up as much as I can)

I have to go, this is getting very intense. I’m amazed I was even able to type this all up to be honest. My sister wishes me to inform you all that she is TEARING UP THE BOARD. (Her words, not mine).

She’s going to start cheating now, I’m not looking at her, so I’m going to return to my game. Even though I hate this game and am unsure as to how she coerced me into playing it.

Queen Rianna

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