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



How Ironic

I think it’s really funny how some people seem really surprised that I’ve suddenly begun to talk more about racial issues and such, not just on my blog but also in real life.

I’d just like to let everyone into a little secret: I’ve always been talking about this stuff.

It’s just that when I used to talk about it, I tried to keep my voice as quiet as possible so that nobody complains that they’re offended or that I’m a ‘racist intolerant’ or whatever else. But now, I’ve made a conscious choice to make my voice heard.

I also find it really funny how before, when I was content to quietly mumble about social injustices with my friends, there was never a reaction, but the instant that I find and use my VOICE and on my personal BLOG of all places (what am I thinking? How RUDE of me; my PERSONAL blog?!) people suddenly make a fuss about my opinions.

I bet if I was to post a blog complaining about the Instagram update and saying how unacceptable it was, people would comment things like, “This is so true! THERE IS SO MUCH INJUSTICE IN THE WORLD!!!!!” or “I’m so glad SOMEONE said something! I thought I was the only one!” or even “I actually think it’s alright.” Even if I was to post entirely in (probably very poor) Spanish, I guarantee people would still comment, “I couldn’t understand anything but this is so true!” Even my post about my somewhat controversial religious beliefs didn’t elicit the level of hate and disagreement that my racial post from Sunday did – both online and IRL. But when I post about racial issues people tell me, “You make this all up” and “You’re not even oppressed. Go live in a third world country and see what oppression REALLY is” and “Stop complaining! You’re not helping your own situation by fulfilling stereotypes!” (Which, may I just ask, stereotypes do I fulfil?)

Plus, oppression is relative. Just because I don’t live in a third-world country or somewhere where many women are openly treated as subordinates, doesn’t mean I am not still at a disadvantage in my own country. I’ve mentioned before, I’m a black female. I live in a Western Society, where the institutions cater for White Heterosexual Rich/Middle-Class Cishet Males before anybody else. This means that within my own native system, I am at a disadvantage. And I think people think of oppression and imagine slavery being reintroduced into society; but it’s a lot more than that. Oppression is about how prejudice and discrimination has become institutionalised and normalised to the point where a specific set of people are benefitting – and it just so happens that I am not a person who is actively benefitting from the system.

I mentioned in my #BodyPostivity and Letter to my 8-year old self post that I’m learning to love myself and that nobody can make me feel inferior without my permission. Which is very true. In the past couple of days, because of the reactions to real life and on-line situations, I’ve begun to doubt the validity of my voice and my opinions. But then I get slapped back into reality and realise, “Why am I letting bitter, ignorant people limit my voice?”

And I realise that, as much as I don’t like confrontation, some things have to be said. It has taken me SO long to climb out of the box that I was put in from Primary School, and I’m still on my self-love journey. I literally cannot believe that I would even consider taking any anonymous person;s comments to heart. I literally cannot believe that anyone would take time out of their day to read through a post, become offended by the literal truth and then decide to share their negativity  – to be honest, I love hearing from my fans. Especially the bitter ones. (Plus, I’m flattered you think me so significant!)

Anyway, let’s not dwell on negativity.

I had an exam yesterday, a written one for Drama. Which went really well. We had to sit two papers; a live theatre and a studied play script. For my playscript, we studied Henrik Ibsen’s ‘A Doll’s House’. If you HAVE read it or had to perform it then I feel sorry for you if you had to be Nora. If you haven’t, maybe do in your free time. It’s an interesting play definitely, but you have to take into consideration a lot of contextual factors. Interestingly, it touches upon issues of female subordination, to an extent, because – long story short – the play centres around a married couple, Nora and Torvald Helmer. They live in 19th century Norway, and Nora is literally treated like a child by her husband – a doll, in a sense of speaking, hence the title. It’s actually SO weird, he calls her all sorts of weird, dodgy pet names, and she loves it, but she’s quite manipulative.

To be honest, their marriage is just a disaster waiting to happen.

But in the end (SPOILER aha) she leaves him after a LOT of unnecessary and avoidable drama because she realises that she has become such a trophy wife and a pet to him that she doesn’t even know who she is herself. She says she wants to discover herself or whatever, so she leaves him with the children.

Great story.

But anyway. I have an exam next Tuesday for Spanish Listening, Reading and Writing which should be VERY interesting, seeing as I’m a lot worse at Spanish than I initially realised. I’m sitting in my study periods, and I’ve just spent about an hour practicing Spanish words and phrases and grammar etc. (Memrise is actually fantastic. It is keeping me going this year in Spanish, I swear!)

Because of the fact that my AS subjects have technically ended, I now have two mornings and two afternoons off from school, which is literally fantastic because it means I can go home earlier and I’M SO READY FOR SUMMER NOW.


Because they’ve changed the system and as of next year, AS-Levels will technically no longer be a thing, they’re introduced these new exams which are like UCAS Prediction exams, so that when we apply for University (next September, I think, we start) then you have the Predicted Grades from the ‘official’ University system, I suppose.

Which sucks because it means more unnecessary and stressful exams. But whatever.

I need to do some more Spanish.


Love the Faerie Squad Mother x


21 Things That Should Be Illegal

I haven’t listed for a while, and I was thinking whilst I was writing one of my quizzes, and I thought, ‘Hey, that should be illegal!’ Seeing as I am Queen of my own country, I sat down and began to think some more about the things I should outlaw in Astellia, so I have compiled a list, which I will shortly be passing on to the Parliament. But I also thought that I hadn’t posted anything for a few days, so I would upload an edited version of my list onto my blog, and here they are. My top 21:

21 Things That Should Be Illegal (IMO*)

*In My Opinion

  1. Pineapple on pizza – I mean, I know I mentioned this before in my post when I was complaining about pizza, but COME ON now. This genuinely should be outlawed; it is a crime and a disgrace against humanity. It doesn’t work. Why are we mixing sweet and savoury?
  2. Illiterate children – There is nothing that upsets me more than children who cannot read. It is so upsetting, because reading opens the door to so many different opportunities, and opens your mind to imagination. Parents who are unable to ensure their children can read or are competent at basic speaking and writing in English should have a strongly-worded letter written to them.
  3. Really bad books (which are coincidentally published) – I just have a quick question. IF YOUR BOOK IS WRITTEN SO TERRIBLY THAT IT HURTS ME TO READ, HOW DO YOU GET IT PUBLISHED? Because let’s be real here, if you can get THAT published, then ANYTHING goes really.
  4. Finite Staples  It is so stressful when you need to staple a stack of important notes or homework and you press the stapler down and then you get that horrible imprint on the paper which indicates that THERE ARE NO MORE staples, and your heart bleeds… Because that shallow imprint isn’t just on that paper; it’s also made a shallow and painful imprint on your heart.
  5. People who smoke around children – Why. Stop. This. It. Is. So. Wrong.
  6. Teenagers who whine about EVERYTHING (#FirstWorldProblems) – Seriously, I am SOOO sorry that your hair straighteners weren’t working this morning, so you had to put your hair up in a ponytail and come to school – despite the fact that you have ELECTRICITY, hair straighteners, hair to put UP in a ponytail, the free will to choose what you want to DO with your hair and the ability to attend school as a female. 🙂
  7. Slurpy noises – OK. We get it, you’re a couple. We get it, you’re having a snog in the middle of the street. Could you please perhaps a) find somewhere a bit more private and b) stop making those disgusting slurpy noises?
  8. Bananas – Three words; They. Are. Disgusting.
  9. Fruit on Ice-Cream – Not fruit-flavoured ice-cream, because Strawberry isn’t too bad. But WHY would you mix fruit and ice-cream? Similar to point number one, it is degrading of the value of the ice-cream. Come on now. It’s a disgrace.
  10. Fairy Tales – I whined about this in one of my first ever posts, and I stick by my decision. Coincidentally, the title of my post was ‘Fairy Tales Should Be Illegal’.
  11. Certain People’s Opinions – Mostly those people who are one of the -ists: Racists, Fascists, Sexists, etc. Your opinions are not only small-minded, they should also be kept in your mind. They should not be coming out of your mouth. I really don’t want to hear them.
  12. Ignorant People – In relation to number 11, I suppose. If you don’t know about a sensitive topic enough to discuss it confidently and without embarrassing yourself (or having me embarrassing you) then DON’T.
  13. Bars of Soap – I am not condoning not washing – PLEASE, WASH! – I just hate it so much when you use that soap bar to within an inch of it’s life, and then you have to use this slither of soap, but it isn’t doing anything, but you can’t get a NEW bar until you’ve finished with the OLD one, but there is hardly enough LEFT of the old one for you to even use it successfully… I give up. I. Give. Up.
  14. British Parliament – I don’t even think I have to say much more about this. Most of them, especially the most influential ones, are pretty useless, selfish and heartless.
  15. Bullying – I had a bit of an experience (I say a bit, it was quite long AHA) when I was in Primary School surrounding this whole issue, and it is HORRIBLE. It is so horrible that people could be sending their children to school and not knowing the torment they go through when they get there. It is so horrible that people are scared to go into work or university because some teacher or their boss or lecturer is harassing them. It is so, SO wrong.
  16. Privileges in Prison – TV is not a right, it is a privilege. Satellite is not a right, it is a privilege. Video games are not a right, they are a privilege. So why does it seem that some criminals in prison live life better than people on the outside? Purely because they seem to think that these commodities are all rights; but they’re not, in my opinion. They are PRIVILEGES; and privileges that, supposedly, these people who are CRIMINALS shouldn’t actually be given.
  17. Comic Sans – Whenever I see a poster, a sign or a document written in Comic Sans, my heart sheds the tiniest of tears. It is so small, yet I feel the entire portion of my soul leaving my body with that tiny tear that comes from my heart.
  18. Automatic Numbering – The amount of fights that Microsoft Word and I have had because I need to number something, and then it automatically numbers everything else, but I don’t want it to do that, so then I change the formatting, but then I end up with the numbers wildly misaligned, and that is absolute chaos; and then I try to fix it, but it goes awry and I try and get rid of them completely, but then it decides to change my formatting of my document and I end up losing every shred of dignity I have left.
  19. Democracy – I am not hating on the principle of democracy; it’s a fantastic idea, which, in theory, works perfectly. It’s just that every country which calls itself a democracy only seems to be using that title in pretence; because most of them are Aristocracies. So, if they’re going to call themselves Democracies, then they need to BE Democrats, not Hypocrites.
  20. Using the Incorrect ‘Your/You’re’ and ‘They’re/Their/There’ I talked about how much this STRESSED me out, and got a very strong response from another blogger who decided to take my post very personally. (You should read the comments, they kept me entertained for about a week) But I genuinely feel like this is something which should be illegal and outlawed. It is entirely inexcusable for English speakers to not be able to utilise their own language correctly.
  21. Dropping ‘t’s out of word pronunciations – Why is it that when certain people speak, they feel the need to drop t’s out of the word? ‘Water’ becomes ‘War-uh’, ‘Literally’ turns into ‘Lih-uh-rullee’ and ‘Hottentottentotemnoctemhottentottenstalactite‘ is entirely mangled. (Well, even more mangled than it was before…)

I am aware that I probably dropped in some stuff which seemed a lot deeper in comparison to the item it preceded, but ah well. There you see how my mind works. (i.e. Rather chaotically, and without much organisation). Speaking of minds working, my mind is working right now (for once!) so I am going to go and do some writing now.

Hasta luego mis amigos*,

Queen Rianna


*See you later my friends 🙂 (Get some Spanish knowledge there!)

Brain Dump

I’m super sorry I haven’t posted part 3 yet (it looks set to be posted tomorrow) because honestly, I’ve just lacked the motivation. In fact, I’m pretty much lacking the motivation to do ANYTHING.

I’m mostly posting this to reassure anyone who cares that I’m still alive. Right now, I’m sitting in my casual pyjama attire (i.e. tracksuit bottoms and old t-shirt) with my laptop in my lap. I’m also feeling quite content, because I just ate a very nice Sundae.

Yes mum, I will be going to the gym soon. No mum, it wasn’t immensely fattening, and yes mum, I will do some exercise.

There’s some program on TV about medicine or something, which I’m half-listening to while I blog, but my mind is all over the place. I thought that I was past my writer’s block, but have you ever had that moment when your brain just shuts down; not because you CAN’T do it, but because someone else can do it better?

So, I was in the car today and my mind went crazy and I started thinking about writing. I know that I want to do something more stable as a career, but if I could, I’d absolutely LOVE to be a housewife and just stay at home and blog and write stuff and raise kids. And yeah, it seems soo far away, but there’s so many teenagers around my age who are AMAZING at writing and just the idea of them intimidates me.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m not a BAD writer but I’m not the best, and when I see people who are so privileged and have so many more opportunities, it kind of puts me off. Today I kind of thought, should I stop writing? Should I try something else instead? When I heard about the 15-year-old girl who got a book published I really wanted to scream, “That should have been me!” And no, I haven’t exactly written a next best-seller, but I really REALLY want to. But seeing girls like this, who seem to be so much more experienced and better writers kind of puts me off.

Obviously yes, I shouldn’t be put off because ‘everyone has different writing styles’ and blah di blah, but for a lot of things that I do, not just writing, I feel like I have to be the best. I’m not talking about the best in an egotistical, ‘I must be better than everyone else’ way, but more in a ‘If somebody is better then I suddenly feel inadequate’ manner. I’m not sure how to put it without making it sound like I want everyone else to be bad at it, but I just mostly want to be very good at it myself. If someone else is also very good, it kind of makes me feel threatened.

People like the girl who got published are kind of… I don’t know, it feel likes they’re just in a whole other writing league to me. Part of me wishes that I had the words of Shakespeare (yep, he’s definitely my writing hero) and could just throw words around like Peeta threw around those sacks of flour. (No, I’m not a huge Hunger Games fan, but Josh Hutcherson is pretty cute…) That part of me is the bit that wants Rianna to keep writing, to write more and bigger and better. To write a novel, to co-author several, to get them all published and become an established author before I’m even out of Uni.

But the other part of me wishes that I never even started writing, because I guess it reduces the chance of being rejected or finding out that I’m not as good of a writer as I thought I was.

Don’t for a second think that this is me having a dip in my self-esteem, because I’m not saying that my writing is TERRIBLE, nor am I saying that I CAN’T write; what I AM saying is that my writing style is still so undeveloped, so immature and basic, and, I guess, there are so many more girls my age, in the same situation as me, who have such advanced and developed writing styles and techniques.

Whilst I sit here and blog out my mind.

I will never stop writing. I can tell you that now, no matter what happens, I will never be able to stop writing. I need to write as much as fishes need water. Well, except a few fish which can survive outside of it… but you get the point I’m making. If I ever stop writing then I don’t know what I will do as a means of creative outlet, or even communicating my mind and thoughts through something unique to myself.

But I don’t know if my writing will ever see the light of day. Like I’ve said about a million times, I’d love to have a book published. I’d love to have some of my poetry published, hell, I’d just love for people to read my blog; but it’s just beginning to seem more and more unlikely. Honestly, some of the stuff that these people are coming up with as ideas, like WOW. They’re amazing. I guess my problem is that I kind of refuse to write a lot of stuff which seems to be quite popular – I refuse to read Dark Fantasy, Horror, Fantasy or any theme focusing around Magic, hence I refuse to write them either. And those seem to be the main ones which people are into now. I don’t really like writing romance, but that seems to be what a lot of my work subconsciously leans towards, and I’m not even that good at crafting them either.

I’m not trying to sound down or depressed, but I’m just trying to think a bit more realistically. Will it be the end of the world if my writing never goes anywhere? No. Will I still have something to fall back on? Yes. Will I look like a loser with lots of documents in a ‘Creative Writing’ folder on my computer desktop? Probably.

I don’t know. I really don’t. I genuinely hope that my writing style will improve and I’ll write better, more excitingly, with more passion, be able to craft and spin stories better; but there’s a part of me that knows I may never have the opportunity to be discovered, that maybe nothing will happen with my skills or my work…

When I started this post, I was going with ‘light-hearted’ and funny, not ‘depressing’ and self-deprecating. Oops.

Oh well. It’s a Thursday evening. (Because of course, stating the date justifies the bum mood! *thumbs up*)

Queen Rianna


The Smell Of…

(This post is dedicated to Socrates – that’s an apple from you, Missy!) 

You roll over in bed groggily and slowly open your eyes. Sitting up slowly, you reach across your bedside table to switch off your alarm and… Ugh. You sigh heavily, as you reach for another tissue and blow your nose. You have a cold.

There aren’t many things which annoy me more in the world than waking up on a nice morning with a blocked nose. Not only does this mean that I will sound funny for the rest of the day, it also means that I won’t be able to smell anything. Of course, the relief of getting my sense of smell back when my cold is finally over is mingled with gratefulness: I will never take for granted my ability to smell ever again. And I’m sure we all have these days.

I didn’t even realise though, that the loss of smell was an actual thing. That might sound a bit ignorant, but I didn’t know that it could be permanent, or that it could affect other things as a result. *Clears throat* Exhibit A:



  • the loss of the sense of smell, either total or partial. It may be caused by head injury, infection, or blockage of the nose.

I just think that sometimes we aren’t thankful until we have lost a functioning sense (i.e. the cold situation) but I’m going to be grateful for it now. So, coming up, my top 5 most and least favourite smells. Let’s start with the bad stuff shall we?

5. New Leather

I really hate the smell of fresh leather. It’s almost as if I am smelling the grief of the cow who has been skinned for these shoes, and the smell makes me kind of cringe. I don’t really know how else to explain it, but if you get it, then you get it.

4. PVA Glue

This smell is so synthetic and fake, and all the chemicals really don’t seem to agree with my nose. It makes me feel sick and especially when the glue is drying, it makes me feel like I’m in some sort of laboratory.

3. Grass

It gets a bit personal here… Myself and grass (or just pollen in general) have never been on the best of terms; I have hayfever. And in summer, the smell becomes so intense I can’t even step out of my house without keeling over.

2. Bananas

How can anyone like the smell of these? No matter what you put bananas in, be it juice, smoothies, sorbet, whatever, I can sniff the banana and it really puts me off!

1. The Dentist

I can’t even describe it entirely, but the smell of the dentist surgery tastes really bad. It puts this horrible, stinging taste in my mouth, the back of my throat starts to feel dry and it’s moments like those where I really wish I couldn’t smell it.

OK, so now I’ve covered the bad, I think it’s safe to say that there are some really good ones:

5. Petrol

No, I’m not a druggie, but the smell of petrol is just… delicious! When my parents are getting petrol and I’m sitting in the car, I love putting the window down to sniff the fumes of petrol around me. And yes, I KNOW they’re toxic… but all good things in moderation, right?

4. Fresh Chips

I’m not talking about your average fries, I’m talking about the chunky, warm, soft, ‘fish n chips’ chips that you get. The warmth you can smell, and how just the smell of them can make your mouth water imagining how delicious they taste. It’s pretty similar with the smell of freshly baked bread.

3. Guy’s Coats

Let me just clarify: I’m not a stalker. I don’t go round sniffing guy’s coats. But sometimes, you hug a guy or something and you just get a whiff of them – it’s not even aftershave or anything, it’s just THEM. And it is such a nice smell.

2. New Books

If you don’t understand where I’m going with this then, please. Go immediately to the nearest book shop, take a novel off the shelf, fan the pages in front of your nose and just INHALE. It is a life-changing experience. And if you have done this then, you know what I’m talking about.

1. My Mum

Sounds a bit funny, but one of my favourite smells is my mother. When I smell her, it makes me think of adjectives which describe how I feel about her; her smell is a protective, caring, loving one. I feel safe and comforted whenever I smell it. Like I said, sounds a bit funny, but yeah!

As I said at the beginning of this post, we only appreciate something when it’s gone. Don’t wait until you have anosmia to appreciate the beautiful smells of things around you everyday. And no, it doesn’t mean that you have to actively sniff everything and everyone, nor does it mean that you must find the odour of every turd on the street ‘artistic’ and ‘inspiring’. Because some things just really do stink! But it means that we need to recognise that not every single day is promised to us (people say this at church all the time but it’s time like these I understand it!) and we should live every day like it’s our last. This ideology really isn’t just limited to our abilities to smell though; it’s about everything.

Try not to wait until you no longer have the ability to do things. Do things while you can, and appreciate them.

A bit of a lighter, happier note today… I’d love if you commented to let me know about your favourite smells or if you agree with any of mine!

Queen Rianna



Do you ever feel like your life is a really terrible joke? And you keep waiting for the punch line; but the only thing that is getting punched is you? By life? In the face?

If you agreed with all of the above, I can’t say I sympathise, sorry. I think that my life is great and absolutely perfect.

If you thought that the previous statement was serious, you obviously have no concept of sarcasm. Because, let’s be real here. Even if I was a Disney Princess, my life would not be great and absolutely perfect. Yes I would have a supermodel’s physique and an immense – and pretty infinite – wardrobe, but I would be saddled with an annoying Prince (I really don’t like many of the features romantic interests in the Disney movies except John Smith, Aladdin and General Shang… and even they wind me up sometimes) and would never get to do much else but live out my life within the walls of a palace.

Sorry. Enough about Disney. This is not the time for me to rant about that.

In Study Skills yesterday, we were discussing the very interesting idea that ADHD and other attention disorders have increased as – interestingly – the technological world and other commercial industries develop. Whilst none of us discredited ADHD or any other disorders as ‘fabricated’ or ‘non-existent’ we recognised that these two factors seem to be linked with each other.

Now before I go on, if anybody has any of these disorders, don’t get me wrong: I am NOT saying they don’t exist. I am not saying they are made up. What I am saying is that the growth between the diagnosis of these and the developing commercial world seem to be conveniently proportionate; as one grows, so does the other.

There are so many things at our fingertips. This is the 21st century, and whilst we do not all drive down the road in hover cars like previous generations predicted, there are technological developments which far exceed the average human mind or understanding. Not just that, but TELEVISION! Need I say much more? Television, tablets, mobile phones, smartphones, everything we have at, practically, the touch of a button, and yet people wonder why children’s minds wander and get bored when they are sat in a classroom for up to an hour at a time, looking at an interactive whiteboard. (The name is quite misleading because the only person INTERACTING with that whiteboard is the teacher…)

I’m not going to just talk about people with attention disorders, but I’m just going to generalise and say the whole of ‘this generation’. I can’t really speak much for myself, because as much as I’m surrounded by all this stuff, I’d much prefer a decent novel to a deadbeat soap opera any day, and my phone can hardly be classified as ‘state of the art’. But for most people my age, we are consumed by consumption; our only aim or focus in life is to obtain more and get as much of it as we possibly can. Ask most average teenage guys what their goals are in life, and they will probably all regurgitate some variation of “Disregard females, acquire currency”. We are so focused on possessions and our obsessions are becoming dangerous, even to the point of elitism in some situations. Why should people be made to feel bad if they don’t have a personal laptop, but share a family computer? Why is it ‘social suicide’ to have a Nokia instead of an iPhone 6? (Because, of course, the iPhone 5 is SO last week…) All of this is spoon fed to us by the global producers in society, and the generation of us who rely upon the words spewed from the mouths of these master manipulators simply gobble these ideologies up without a second thought.

And it’s killing us.

Yes, sometimes we might joke about the girl who doesn’t know what a democracy is, or the person who thinks that UKIP is a supermarket. Even the people who think that the reference to ‘Ferguson’ is a reference to an episode of a TV programme. (And yes, I kid you not, these are all real comments made by real people…) But in reality, it’s terrifying. Because if we find politics (and I quote) ‘boring’ and ‘irrelevant’ then God have mercy when we reach the age to legally vote and not know who to vote for in order to help secure our economy and our futures. (And no, we cannot just vote for whoever our parents vote for!) What happens when the only thing which we find interesting is the TV screen, and we seem to be running out of the bright young minds to become educated doctors, nurses, lawyers, teachers and MP’s? What do we do when paper pages no longer catch our interest – when instead only intensely bright, glaring screens will allow our slowly dying minds to ingest watered-down words and phrases?

It is a sobering thought and a sickening joke. There is no punch line to this one. We really have to wake up and smell the sweat and toil of all those people before us who have fought, and in some cases died, for so many rights and privileges, so many which we abuse everyday. Technology may be the answer to a lot of things…

But it’s not the answer to everything.

And of course, technology has it’s benefits. It’s revolutionising the medical field and helps out with engineering and mechanics. I completely agree with the use of technology in these instances; because these uses are entirely selfless. These are helping to develop our society, our community and our nations as a whole, so who could really find fault with them in these circumstances?

But it’s down to us. We can complain all we like about ‘poor education’ and ‘stupid system reforms’ but if we don’t take every opportunity, every chance we get to actually make a change, then what is the use? Of course, it’s not entirely our fault. (Thanks, Michael Gove, you’re really the best!) I’m not saying we should take the blame, but we can’t boycott the system. That’s a bit silly really, and – if we’re being honest – I don’t think most of us actually understand the implications some of these changes have entailed. It’s just like they say, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” Yes, I know it’s not that easy. I know that education and opportunities are based upon the sizes of mummy and daddy’s bank account (if you even HAVE both parents) and your postcode, and that sometimes your forename and/or surname can be a deciding factor in admission to a Russel Group University, and your home address the signature on your own death warrant.

The problem with us is that we want to get rich quick. We want to do as little as possible to generate the greatest income, and truth is, that’s not how life works. I know that there are those exceptional cases where people are able to make a living from nothing, when people have built up entire empires from empty cardboard boxes on the streets; but not all of us will become those miracle stories. Yes, some of us may, but statistically, not EVERY single lazy teenager is going to get lucky and make a couple million pounds by accident. We have to work for it. But we don’t really want to work for anything anymore. Not when practically everything is done for us.

We are supposed to be the generation of the future. We are supposed to be the ones who make a difference, but how can we when we are all but brain-dead, and being drowned by the media? When our life source is our phones and how you would think you have killed someone when you take their technology away?

Yes, I am guilty of this. I never said I was entirely exempt. But we really need to be realistic. And at the end of the day, who is going to be getting an education, or even going off to University and getting degrees?

Our smartphones? Or us?

I think I’ve said enough.

Queen Rianna


What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor…

What do you do with a drunken sailor?

What do you do with a drunken sailor

Early in the morning?

Really, I’m unsure. but to be honest, if you’re asking me that question, the first thing / would ask is, “What are you doing with a drunken sailor at early hours in the morning?” And the second thing I would say is, “Actually, on second thoughts, please don’t answer that question.”

That seems like a weird song to start a post off with… and you’re right. It is weird.

And likewise was my day.

I can’t seem to properly sum up my day, honestly. I mean, look at the fact that I’m writing this post at quarter to 11 at night; it is WAY past my bedtime. (Don’t judge me, every Queen needs some intense beauty sleep… Well, other than Beyonce I guess). And I’m literally in my bed, in my pyjamas and everything. Just typing on my blog.

And why? Because I am the best procrastinator (is that a profession? Even if it was though, I probably wouldn’t even get round to applying for it) in the world. I managed to tidy out my ENTIRE wardrobe, reorganize every drawer and sort out my whole desk… But have not got a single SECOND of revision done. (Well, I’m not sure that’s strictly true, I mean, I have done about 6 seconds in total of revision). Somebody talk about priorities!

So. I’ve decided to write on my blog because it seems to be a way of escape and expressing my feelings other than ranting down the phone to a friend, talking at eighty miles a minute. And yes, I’m slightly tired. And yes, my back and my fingers and my entire body aches. But I’m also getting more and more stressed about the fact that the exam date is looming closer and closer, when all I want to do is run away from it.

And eat some apples. (Not even in a weird way, but since I got my braces off, I’ve been obsessed with eating apples! Lucky me, right?) The juicy kind, delicious ones. Shiny red ones and the sweet, crisp ones which make a loud crunching noise when you bite them.

I can’t believe I’m up at 22:51 fantasizing about eating apples. It probably sounds very… weird, but it isn’t even a euphemism.

Not to mention that I am VERY confused. Is there a way to, like, unwind all your feelings? And separate them all and untangle them, so I can understand them! Sometimes, it’s terrifying how little I understand myself. I don’t know what I want and when I think I want something, it seems like I don’t… I’m very weird like that. But things happen and then you think, “Do I…?” and then something else happens and that feeling is very quickly squashed, or smothered by other more intense feelings, like annoyance, like anger, like bad moods, and then POOF! Just like that, it’s gone.

I’m in no rush to try to understand myself anyway. God willing, I have 50 to 70 more years to figure myself out, and even then I’m pretty sure others will understand me more than I do. What makes me tick? I’m not sure.

I think that it’s a combination of different things. I really do think that my friendships and relationships help to define who I am, as in the value and esteem I hold myself in. I also think that my work and my achievements play a big role in everything I do. There are a number of other things, like my writing, like school, like my personal hobbies, which I think are all PARTS of what makes me tick, but I don’t think I can highlight any one thing which I can say, without which I would not be able to survive…

One thing I know for sure though; everything I do has an emotional reason behind it. I am emotionally attached to everything and there is nothing I am able to do emotionally detached and unbiased. Nearly everything I do has a reason. I wrote a poem for a reason, be it because of inspiration or a personal experience. I sent a text for a reason, I read that book for a reason, I wore this top for a reason… and the list goes on and on. And it sounds a bit stupid, of course I don’t pore over my drawers in the morning and think “Hmmm, now which shirt will I wear today? Maybe I’ll be slightly rebellious and wear the crisp white one? Or will I wear my crumpled white one?” Not everything I do is to make a statement, but any of my friends can tell you that I am one emotional chick.

I’m starting to feel a bit like Cinderella. It’s 23:03 and I’m still typing away like a madwoman, raging at my keys. (Poor keyboard, it’s not your fault you have to put up with a mistress so cruel, I’m sorry…) I’m just waiting for the moment, any time now, when I turn back into a less-than-average girl, going about her ordinary life after she’s just danced with her prince. No dancing for me unfortunately, but I’m still working on the prince/King thing. (If you’d like to read more about that whole thing, then totally check out my other page, My Ramblings, and scroll down to ‘A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes’… Prepare to have your heart ripped out, ‘cos mine was, and I wrote it!) Damn, I type pretty fast.

My whole day has been a bit of a blur. I’ve been in a bad mood since this morning, I’m a bit of a pooey person, so I sometimes take it out on my friends, which is entirely unfair (So I apologise to you Babs, Ewnte and Susanna!) but it’s kind of as if the reality is just weighing down on me now.

The Summer Term is almost here now. And here I am, up at 23:07, when really I should be in bed sleeping. I sincerely hope that neither my mum or dad wake up and catch me in here. Initially, I was doing homework. I had to write something on my group blog for my drama project at school, and then I was going to start learning my Spanish paragraphs (yes, I finally wrote them!) but I thought, ugh can’t be bothered. Asi que, estoy aqui. (And so, here I am). 

I probably won’t be doing this again anytime soon though. It’s all well and good now, but in the morning I’m going to be like a zombie. I have a crapload of work to finish off, I’m DEFINITELY going to fail my drama writing exam, and I’ve done no revision for any other subjects other than English. I should probably – no, need to – sign up for those classes after school. There’s supposed to be a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, right?

Wrong. First of all, this is a pretty sucky rainbow. Rainbows are supposed to be pretty and sparkling and multicoloured, but this ‘rainbow’ is pretty pathetic. And the pot of gold at the end isn’t even a pot of gold, it’s just a piece of paper with some letters on it. Some very important, life-altering letters, however.

Well, let’s just hope those letters are all A’s and A*’s.

Here’s a joke before I go:

Q: Why was six afraid of seven?

A: It wasn’t. Numbers are not sentient beings, and therefore incapable of feeling emotions. 

I’m great at killing moods. Especially at *glances at clock time* 23:14 at night. I’d just like to think I’m funnier at times when my thoughts are not coherent. (DISCLAIMER: I am not an alcoholic, I just really need to sleep)

Goodnight everyone, and LOL to all those of you who are still up reading this. Probably my Elms buddies… Kisses.

Queen Rianna


Este es imposible…

Lo siento, pero es muy dificil escribir algun todos las dias! (I’m sorry, but it’s very difficult to write something every day!)

Estoy tratiendo me mejor escribir pero a veces, no lo se que escribir sobre… (I am trying my best, but sometimes I don’t know what to write about…)

Tambien, es mas facil escribir cosas en espanol, porque si no escribo lo que significa en ingles, nadie saben lo que estoy escribiendo. (It’s also easier to write things in Spanish, because if I don’t write what it means in English, nobody will know what I am writing.)

I was seriously considering writing the whole thing in Spanish, but then I thought that would get a bit boring to be honest. I mean, even I am getting bored of reading my – probably – poorly translated sentences.

So let me start again.

Languages are a beautiful thing. You can travel the world and go places – literally AND metaphorically – with the ability to form uncommon sounds and words in your mouth. I guess it sounds a bit funny put like that, but that’s literally what they are, if you think about it.

Sometimes, I sit down and think (well, I don’t always sit down because I don’t usually have time to but…) who on earth came up with [insert language here]? Did a group of people get together and go, ‘right, we’re sick of Joe always trying to get into our conversation; let’s talk a different language so he can’t understand what we’re talking about’? Or was it a bit more like, ‘hey, guys, Sue is obviously struggling with speaking this language, let’s try and teach her one that’s a bit easier so she can use that one instead’?

At any rate, whoever invented languages was (or were) a genius (or geniuses)… Is there another plural for more than one genius? Genii? Geniusus?

No matter.

Despite all the evident advantages, there is one slight flaw in the idea of languages… Not everyone can understand them.

And yes, I completely understand that this can sometimes be a good thing; there’s nothing I love hearing more on the bus than two girls OBVIOUSLY talking about someone else but in their own language… (Body language is a thing too!) but I feel like sometimes not comprehending the complex sounds one person can form and another can’t can be slightly problematic.

Take girls for example. (I won’t generalise, but I will say MOST because from my personal experience, surrounded by females 24/7, I’ve seen this happening all the time) Girls are possibly the most cryptic and complicated beings since the creation of mankind, and will probably continue to be, and the truth is that they… WE will never admit it.

I’m pretty sure that every message I send (mostly to guys, but also to some of my girlfriends) has about 12 different meanings, and those 12 different meanings and interpretations are all fused into a singular ‘hey’. Because not only could ‘hey’ mean, I want to talk to you. It could also mean, Why haven’t you messaged me first? You obviously don’t want to talk to me. Most likely, it could also entail, I feel like something has changed between us, and often has traces of I’m very sad please talk to me and make me feel better. 

As a result, I find myself interpreting every message I receive in 12 different ways. Because the moment someone pops up like, ‘hey’ I am immediately trying to figure out what they mean. Do they want to talk to me? Have they missed me? Do they have something important to tell me? Are they only messaging me because they feel obligated to do so? and etc. etc. At any rate, it’s not an easy habit to break, and even though in my heart of hearts, I know that all they meant was ‘hey’… I still try and figure out what they REALLY meant anyway.

Now, I’m sure at this point you would expect me to launch into a well-informed speech about how guys are similar, but really, I wouldn’t know. Not only am I NOT a guy (Praise be) I also have no way of knowing how complex or cryptic guys ACTUALLY are, simply because of my own interpretations of messages. So I’ll just say that the few guys I know are (usually) quite open and we supposedly know where we stand… Although I’m not quite sure where that is yet for some. (LOL)

But languages are very enchanting things. Sometimes I hear people reel off words and phrases fluently and just think, “Agh! I wish I could understand them! I wish I could speak that language!” Other times I wish that I could understand every single language in the world, and that I could speak them all fluently as well. But of course, my brain is, unfortunately, not hardwired for many more languages than English and Spanish. And don’t get me wrong, English is a great language… for English speakers. Spanish is a smooth, roll-off-your-tongue language and it’s so much fun to learn and speak; but equally so much effort!

Like I’ve said about eighteen times, languages are amazing. They are so fascinating (me fascinan!) and captivating, and as much as they have their disadvantages, I really think that the benefits far outweigh them.

At any rate, even when we are speaking the same language, we still can’t understand some people. And I don’t think learning their complex, cryptic language in order to communicate can effectively break that barrier.

Perhaps this was a bit of a bum topic, but hey. It’s a Thursday evening.


Queen Rianna



Tomorrow I have four and a half (I’ve already written the first half) Spanish paragraphs due.

Ah, pues. (Oh well).

I’ve decided that my GCSE controlled assessments can wait. I mean, what are exams right? Especially the ones that can potentially shape your future? They’re practically pointless.

I don’t have much to write about today, so I’ve decided to share another few of my poems. This time they are taken from my third collection, ‘Lovestruck’. Interestingly – and ironically – the first one is called ‘Bilingual’. I actually wrote it when I was supposed to be doing my Spanish homework (do you see a trend here?) and I was thinking about this guy – yes, it is slightly personal, *blush* – and then I got sidetracked… and really annoyed, actually, and so I wrote this.

The second one is called ‘Guessing Games’, which was my first attempt at rhyming poetry. (I’m not a huge fan of rhyming poetry…) But here they are. So, you know what to do!

Bilingual (From ‘Lovestruck’)

I speak English. You speak English.

We only speak English.

Or at least, that is the only language we can speak fluently.

So why

Does it feel like,

Most of the time

We are speaking two different languages?

Your words are obscure

Sometimes, what you say has no


It doesn’t fit neatly back into my way of thinking

It’s confusing

And just when I finally figure out ONE word

There are eighteen more to translate

Sentences are never simple

I have to string together highly-complex

Conjugated, conditional verbs and nouns

Tenses even I don’t understand

To force you to read between the lines.

I thought your alphabet would be easier

But it’s just like reading hieroglyphics

You have no key. No chart. No

Self-teaching tools.

You just have to… know.

There are no cognates. Nothing remotely


About the things you say

Everything I say is easily lost

In Translation

You misinterpret the clearest messages

I wish

Sometimes, I just WISH

That you would talk

My language.

Guessing Games (From ‘Lovestruck)

You look at me

I look at you.

You smile at me

And I do too.

You look away, which I impute

Is down to me.

You’re kinda cute.

You look back up, your smiles unfurls

My heart does ballerina twirls.

Electrically, you shuffle in.

Your smile could cause a saint to sin.

Your searching eyes, they pierce right through

I’m now neck-deep in your gaze too

To which my breath has no escape

My heart it whispers, “Listen, wait.”

Then you lean down close to my ear

And whisper… but did I mishear

The compliment that you just paid

Was not for me, but for that jade!

I see her… and she’s mesmeric!

But you moved from ME pretty quick…

That’s not what I thought you would say

I should have got a play-by-play

Deep down, I wished that you’d see me

What you had called her, lovely

I will not play this game with you,

I will not guess, just tell the truth

I’m running circles, can’t you see

The impact that you have on me?

I give up.

I hope you liked them. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before but I’m not the greatest at writing love poetry, and I don’t think that this collection is as good as the other two. But, you know, I thought it might be nice to get some other opinions. Please do comment and let me know what you think!

Adios, mis amigos!

Reina Rianna


Extracts From My Mind

I’ve spoken a bit about the fact that I write poetry and I’m really into creative writing, but I really want to share some of my stuff. To be honest, I’m not in the best mind-set for writing a witty, sassy blog post right now, so I think that I’ll just hit you with some deep poems.

A bit of background. At the moment, I am working on 3 collections of poetry. The first is entitled “Equality and Other Jokes” and the poems in it are based on the struggles which a teenage girl faces in a western society. The second is entitled “Liberation” which is inspired by the plight and battles which black people have had to fight over the course of history, and the third is entitled “Lovestruck”, which I’m pretty sure speaks for itself. (In case you didn’t guess, I usually write about things which I have either experienced first hand, as a straight black teenage female, or things which I have seen or heard about through friends, other people or the news.)

I’ll just share one piece from the first and second collection; the first poem is entitled Unbreakable and is based on how the neglect of parents can lead to girls looking for love in the wrong place. The second is called Seventeen which was inspired by the book To Kill A Mockingbird, (if you don’t understand it, then Google search Tom Robinson) but I think they both speak for themselves. Enjoy.

Unbreakable (From ‘Equality and Other Jokes’)

Bedroom. Make-up littering every visible surface. Leaking onto the floor. Dark stains on the carpet.


Wardrobe opens. Piles of material spill onto the floor. Trodden on.


Dressing table. Lamp switched on. Perfecting imperfections in the glassy, glossy mirror.


Jeans, top, tan – spray on everything. Sticky enough to wrap a sandwich in.


Under the bed. Pairs and pairs of shoes clutter and cluster in large groups. Colours hidden away.


Leaving. Before 10. Mum’s on the sofa. Glance over. Eyes glaze over. Turns back to the telly.


Arrive. Shouting for friends. Walking through. Turning on more than the light in the coat room.


Drinking. People passed out on the floor. Spliffs being passed around like a church collection plate.


Eyes meet. Dance closer. Glazed over. Move slower. Feeling tipsy.


Upstairs. Fumbling around. Lips on lips. Clothes on clothes. Skin on skin. Don’t know him.


After. Stumbling in the dark. Drunkenly pulling jeans back on. Tears threatening to appear.


Home. After 3. Can’t walk straight. Mum sees. Says nothing. Switches the TV off and goes upstairs.


Bedroom. Back to the start. Peels off layers of cling film. Climbs under sheets. Tries to forget.


(Copyright 04-03-15)

Seventeen (From ‘Liberation’)

holes of torn apart flesh from which his life force ebbs away and

the scars will never heal they will only grow bigger

and the image of the circular patterns will haunt the minds of the children

forever. in their minds they will connect the dots and create

a beautiful picture from something so ugly and marred and the

only image they will ever have of him is one which they have idealised and

romanticised and justified. because they don’t want to admit that he

could have possibly been wronged because there is always

a justification because they are always right and people like him are never

something is wrong but nobody wants to say

anything because they don’t want to be the one whom everyone turns

against and that would be a disaster if they end up like that man who is

lying faceless, face up in a grave. of course they wouldn’t want him face down because

then everyone would see the bare canvas of his tautly stretched back and they would realise

that the story given couldn’t make sense and they would finally put two and

two together and make


melanin leaks from his wounds.

(Copyright 04-03-15)

So, quite a contrast to my usual posts. Pretty intense, but I’m feeling a bit deep right now. I hope you liked them, and yes totally comment, please, comments are very much appreciated! Because my fictional pieces are notably longer, maybe I’ll just post extracts of them now and again. But let me know what you guys think…

Thank you for reading them though!

Queen Rianna