Here I Go Again

This is just (what I hope will be) a short post in response to an ‘Ask the FSM’ I received. It has to be short because otherwise this post will turn into a political rant. As do the majority of my ‘neutral’ posts, now I think of it actually. But whatever. This is also quite a timely-relevant question, as October is the month we celebrate Black History Month in the UK.

QueenNefertiti asked at 15:04 – ‘What do you think of BLM?’

For those of you who are unaware, the abbreviation ‘BLM’ is in reference to the Black Lives Matter movement, founded by three African-Americans in 2013, through a social media hashtag, (#BlackLivesMatter or #BLM) following the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the murder of Trayvon Martin.

I’d like to apologise in advance for any grammatical or informational discrepancies, but in short, this is what I think of it:

The fact that we live in a world where ‘Black Lives Matter’ has to be voiced aloud for people to recognise this basic fact is despicable. It should just go without saying. I think, as not just a black person but also a person who clearly sees injustices and racism in the majority of the institutions worldwide, that BLM is a very valuable and worthwhile movement. At the same time, it’s a travesty that this movement exists, because it just shows the so-called ‘progressiveness’ of our society isn’t, in fact, as forward-thinking as we’d like to believe. However, the general success and support of the movement inspires a level of hope in me; that despite the mostly fractured and separated community of blacks, there still remains some level of solidarity.

I believe that the common misconception of the BLM movement is that people believe that when it is said, it means ‘ONLY Black Lives Matter’ or ‘Let’s ignore every other marginalised group and recognise only the oppression of Black people’; both which are, of course, wildly inaccurate interpretations of the movement. BLM literally means ‘Black Lives Matter’, not any more or any less than any other race or ethnic group, and that we would like you – the authority, the law-deciding institutions of the world, but moreso of America – to recognise this fact when you are dealing with any case relating to the wrongful treatment of black people, judicially, socially and in any other relevant context.

Of course we need BLM. The amount of horrific cases of police brutality that have been surfacing for the past years are far too many – there should be none. The figures of inequality and injustices in the wrongful convictions of black people or alternatively the wrongful acquittal of white people who have committed crimes against blacks (especially in the case of police officers who have murdered innocent black civilians) are ridiculously high, and indicate (to me, at least) a clear problem. The fact that people are disregarding BLM as a movement which is ‘unnecessary’ or even ‘radical’ is, in my opinion, offensive. How can you tell me that a movement which acknowledges the oppression of a marginalised group and attempts to combat that oppression, through peaceful protesting and campaigning, is ‘radical’? They are literally fighting for the right to be recognised and treated as equals – a status which black people (in America in particular) have been fighting for, for the best part of 400 years.

BLM is not a supremacist, violent or systematically-racist movement. It is a movement that combats the supremacist, violent and systematically-racist institutions of America, and yet is still relevant for black people in communities all over the world. BLM is not a radical movement. There may be radical supporters WITHIN the movement, but there have been and are radicals within every group which stands for peace and equality; in the same way that you cannot label every Muslim an extremist or every white person a racist, you cannot label everyone who agrees with the BLM movement a ‘radical white-hater’, or a ‘segregationist’. Plus, not only black people support the movement. People from all different ethnic backgrounds and races support this movement; another indication that this movement is not at all an ‘exclusive’ one.

I support Black Lives Matter. I am not a violent, a segregationist, a ‘radical’ or anything more than a person who desires social, political and economic equality for blacks – and social and economic equality are, for the most part, still ongoing struggles.

I also do not think that the counteractive ‘All Lives Matter’ should even be used in the same sentence. Yes, ‘All Lives Matter’ but saying ‘ALL lives’ is not specifically focusing on the lives which are currently at risk; you’re including a group which is CLEARLY not marginalised or experiencing the same levels of inequality as others. Yes, there are other oppressed and marginalised groups, but rather than bringing them up as an argument to counteract the BLM movement, why not campaign for these issues yourself? Rather than attempting to invalidate the BLM movement by raising other racial issues, why not simply take up the mantle and raise these issues yourself? Rather than citing ‘black-on-black crime’ as the greater killer of black people in America than the American Police force, why not stop trying to invalidate BLM with somewhat pathetic and irrelevant excuses? As I saw on a very succinct Instagram post, it’s like people saying “Black Lives Matter” and the response group saying “Yes they do BUT…” There is no need to add a ‘but’. There is no ‘but’. Black Lives Matter. End of discussion.

I hope I’ve answered your question, QueenNefertiti.

That wasn’t even a short post, but I hope that my point is clear; I’m sure it is.

Love the Faerie Squad Mother x

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The Tessellation Diagram

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s it, I guess.

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

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

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

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

Love from The Faerie Squad Mother x

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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.

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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Cue Music

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

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

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

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

10 out of 10, would recommend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did I stick to the plan? No.

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

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

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

So not entirely bad.

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

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

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

You can quote me.

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

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

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

Shoutout to anyone mentioned who’s reading this…

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

Shoutout to the toilet lid for being down…

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

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

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

Goodbye everyone and lots of love

From the Faerie Squad Mother x

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No Lo Entiendo

Why is sexual infidelity such a popular plot device?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I still have to ask:

Why is sexual infidelity such a popular plot device?

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

Either way, ‘no lo entiendo‘.

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

The Faerie Squad Mother x

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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.

PLEASE HURRY UP JULY!

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.

Adiós.

Love the Faerie Squad Mother x

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UN Declaration of Human Rights – Article 19

I’m sick of being told not to rock the boat. I’m sick of feeling uncomfortable discussing issues that should be talked about because they need to be. I’m sick of feeling like I’m not the person who can say anything because I’m supposed to be the quiet black girl who sits back and quietly calls people problematic but doesn’t say anything to their faces.

I’m sick of this ‘angry black girl’ rhetoric. I’m sick of people telling me I’m making a big deal out of something that isn’t even being made a DEAL out of. I’m sick of the fact that these mentalities are so institutionalised and normalised that whenever I say anything, I’m suddenly the villain. I’m sick of being villainised for something I have every right to do. I’m sick of people calling me aggressive and vicious in my behaviour. I’m sick of people believing I am out to fight them verbally about racial issues when in reality, that’s what they do to me.

I’m sick of ignorant people. I’m sick of having to tell people that their behaviour is offensive or rude or racist or prejudiced or discriminatory or problematic. I’m sick of the fact that in the 21st century, I still have to tell people that their behaviour is offensive or rude or racist or prejudiced or discriminatory or problematic. I’m sick of hearing about whose ancestors didn’t own slaves. I’m sick of hearing excuses made for ‘justifiably-racist’ comments, or actions. I’m sick of the fact that people believe that we live in a post-racist society.

I’m sick of the fact that my culture is still a costume and a trend. I’m sick of the fact that I’m told to ‘relax about my culture’ when I have every reason to get angry.  I’m sick of people ‘tone policing’, and telling me how I should feel about things that are problematic. I’m sick of the fact that me highlighting someone’s questionable behaviour turns into me racially attacking someone.

I’m sick of people believing that white people are oppressed. I’m sick of white people believing that they are oppressed. I’m sick of white people believing they are entitled to everything, including oppression. I’m sick of white people feeling they are entitled to use the word ‘nigger’, in any of its forms or variants.

I’m sick of people fetishising my race, and men of colour, and women of colour, and mixed-race babies. I’m sick of the fact that the movement #BlackLivesMatter has been counteracted with #AllLivesMatter, not because all lives ACTUALLY matter, but because people want to derail the growing self-love and solidarity of Black people. I’m sick of the fact that #BlackLivesMatter is still controversial. I’m sick of the fact that we have to even have a BLM movement. I’m sick of the fact that we have to campaign and fight for #BLM and #BlackGirlsRock because nobody seems to realise this without us making it a thing.

I’m sick of people trivialising my struggle. I’m sick of the fact that because I’m ‘just’ a black girl, my opinion about racial issues pertaining to myself suddenly carry no significance. I’m sick of people telling me that I haven’t experienced racism. I’m sick of people telling me what I have experienced isn’t racism. I’m sick of being told that my personal experiences are invalid.

I’m sick of the fact that in the media, in films, in movies, in books, the exploration of a culture is mind-blowing and hard-hitting, but in real life, in MY life, people never want to acknowledge the origins of a culture, so long as it suits them. I’m sick of people being uncomfortable discussing racial issues. I’m sick of my struggle being a taboo. I’m sick of people trying to avoid discussing these issues altogether. I’m sick of people telling me to “not get involved” because it has “nothing to do with me” when the issues are directly pertaining to me.

I’m sick of being looked to as a minority group as the spokesperson for an entire race and culture and heritage in certain places. I’m sick of not being looked to as having an opinion for an entire race and culture and heritage in certain places. I’m sick of having my opinion passed over because it’s too controversial. I’m sick of being told my opinions are controversial.

I have every right to call someone out if I feel like they’re being offensive. I have every right to RESPECTFULLY call someone out if I feel like they’re being offensive. I have every right to point out someone’s problematic behaviour. I have every right to RESPECTFULLY point out someone’s problematic behaviour.

Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me to stop talking. Don’t tell me I’m being offensive. Don’t tell me I’m upsetting said problematic person. Don’t tell me to stop making a big deal out of it.

I can’t believe I even have to write a post like this.

I’m not a person who likes to ‘rock the boat’. I’m not a person who likes confrontation but I am NOT a person who is going to sit by any longer and listen to problematic people and offensive people and racist people and prejudiced people continue on in their ignorance without telling them.

I am not disillusioned to believe that anything I ever say will change their opinions. I am not going to pretend that I am the Almighty SJW who will liberate the minds of all ignorant people. I am not saying that I have reached the ultimate level of social and racial enlightenment or that I am entirely #Woke. Because I’m not.

But I’m sick of being told I’m the angry black girl. Because I have a voice too.

And I have every DAMNED right in the world to use it.

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¿Cómo te llamas?

In Spanish, when you ask someone what their name is, rather than saying ‘¿Cuál es tu nombre?’ (What is your name? – which supposedly, is more formal), you say ‘¿Cómo te llamas?’ The literal translation of this is, ‘How do you call yourself?’

I’ve always thought this an interesting concept, because I think there is quite a difference between asking someone what their name is and asking them what they are called. I could be entirely unnecessarily building this difference up, but let’s see, shall we?

The opening sentence for the story I am currently writing is:

“Many people say that the first gift you are ever given is your name.”

In many ways, a name is a gift. The protagonist goes on to mention how the meaning of your name can shape who you are and give you the ability to do amazing things.

According to Google, ‘name’ is a noun which means a word or set of words by which a person or thing is known, addressed, or referred to. Therefore, asking someone what their name is, is asking them what title they are known as. More often than not, names carry some level of significance, be it culturally, socially or domestically. For example, names convey class and status. Someone named ‘Jane Boggs’ for instance, is perhaps not as highly socially regarded as someone called ‘Penelope Clarington’.

Names also convey meaning.

My name, ‘Rianna’ is a variant of the Welsh name ‘Rhiannon’. According to ‘Behind the Name’ (which, may I add, is a very exciting website to use) this means ‘Great Queen’. Which I completely was. My surname, ‘Davis’ is similarly a popular Welsh surname, and according to some quick googling, it originated from the Davidson clan in Scotland. But is mostly now used in Wales and England.

Names also convey cultural heritage.

Which, it is, at this point, that we shall have to pause for a moment. Because, I mean, I don’t know how obvious it is, but clearly, my ancestors were neither Welsh nor Scottish. I have a very Welsh sounding name, especially in its pre-derivative form (‘Rhiannon David’) and this gives absolutely no clue as to my origins, except pointing back to slavery.

In fact, the only thing I can tell conclusively from my name is that my ancestors were once owned by a ‘Davis’ family. Because that’s effectively what it tells me. I have no other link with my heritage because my name (here it comes again) has been erased and scribbled over with somebody else’s name, effectively denying me the privilege of knowing and understanding my cultural heritage.

So what makes me very sad is when people have their cultural heritage (due to their beautifully, rich-sounding names and/or surnames) and choose to reject them because of society’s Eurocentric standards. Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand the stigma there is around ‘African-sounding’ names, and I get that obviously many people will be eager to change their names so they don’t ‘sound black’. And that sounds bad, but you have to consider the fact that we do live in a White Supremacist world, so everyone in Western societies feels like they have to conform to a Western societal standard. Which, to some extent you do in order to get by.

In the West, ‘Babatunde’ isn’t a beautiful, meaningful name. In the West, ‘Babatunde’ mostly connotes ‘freshie’, ‘African savage’. It doesn’t hold the same cultural meaning that it does from its’ roots. In the West, anything that sounds remotely ‘ethnic’ is mostly laughed at and scorned (unless it’s at the Kardashians’ or Jenners’ initiation, of course) and because of these culturally-rich names, people are denied the chances to jobs and such because interviewers see their application and immediately recognise the person applying is clearly not white-British. Or alternatively, recognise that this person is African and want to hire them as evidence that their workplace is not racist because of their ‘multi-culturally diverse’ employees.

So we return to my name. As lovely as my name is (gracias a mis padres) and as much as I don’t want to change it (because I don’t even know what I’d change it to!) there is a part of me that wishes my name wasn’t so ‘bland’ and ‘whitewashed’ so that I was able to trace my heritage right back to its roots.

That’s why people denying their cultural names because they get teased for them make me sad, because they have the opportunity to know where they come from, what part of Africa their ancestors live in, or lived in. As much as there is a huge stigma around these names, and lots of racist stereotyping and such, the under-appreciation of these names really upsets me. I mean, society teaches us to really hate ourselves, gosh! Not just the way we appear and the way we look, but also the way we refer to ourselves; which comes right back to the point I was making at the beginning. When you ask someone “What is your name?” (because English is such a great language, we only have one way of asking that) and they tell you their middle name, because they are too ashamed to tell you their first name, they are not lying. They are telling you their name. They are telling you the words which have been attributed to them in order to identify them and the words which they are used to being addressed by.

But when you ask someone “Como te llamas?” (how do you call yourself? – I mean, I know it’s Spanish, but the point still remains), in my opinion, you aren’t just asking them what words they use to identify themselves. What someone is called is more than just what they are referred to. What someone calls themselves also says a lot about who they are. They could still answer this question with their middle name, because that is what they call themselves, and that is how they view themselves. They don’t necessarily want to associate with their culture or their heritage because of the stigma surrounding it, and it’s effectively them denying who they are.

I understand there is a lot of controversy surrounding this anyway, as in choosing ‘socially-accepted’ names over heritage names, and I probably see in it a more ‘black-and-white’ way than someone else who is actually in this predicament. And yes, I understand that society has a funny way of destroying our lives and culture from the roots up, but if you have those roots, why wouldn’t you reclaim them? Why would you want to let go of them, or feel ashamed, if you’re one of the few lucky ones to know where you come from? Why would you want to exchange thousands of years worth of your geographical history for a few decades of social prosperity but cultural ignorance? Maybe I’m asking a stupid question, but I think it’s a fair question, as someone who would love to get in touch with my own history.

And when I say history, I don’t mean that I want to be told that my ancestors were slaves in Jamaica and then probably slaves in England. I want to know my specific history. I want to know which country they were taken from in Africa. Which tribe they originated from. If that tribe still exists today. There’s so many gaps in my own knowledge of my personal history, because of the gaps in my name.

And society, especially Western society, makes you feel guilty that you name is unpronounceable, and forces you to shorten your name to make it less ‘ethnic’ and more ‘blandly ethnic’. I mean, disregarding the fact that they didn’t shorten slavery because it was ‘unstomachable’, how dare they try to strip people of their culture?

They don’t make us shorten Shakespeare’s name into something less ‘British’.  Everyone can pronounce Truman Capote and Jack Kerouac, despite the fact that their names aren’t phonetic, and we’re taught how to pronounce them, and Scott F. Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway are never referred to as ‘Fitz’ and ‘Hems’.So why should you have to do that for a name that holds just as much significance for you culturally as the Union Jack does for the British?

I think I’m pretty much done with my rant about names, but before I finish up, I just want to drop this YouTube video of Button Poetry (my absolute FAVOURITE) and end on this note:

I don’t hate my name. I don’t feel any particularly strong way towards it, to be honest. My name is what I am referred to by. But my name is not who I am. My name cannot tell you – nor can anybody’s, for that matter – about my hopes and dreams, my aspirations, the person I am, my characteristic or my personality. But names have meanings, and names have significance. My name means something to my parents who chose to name me that. My name means something to people who know me and hear it, and think about me. My name means something to God and my name will one day mean something to even more people when it’s on the spine of a published book. Everyone’s name carries a significance. Appreciate your name and its’ meaning, no matter where you come from, no matter what your name is. Because your name is YOUR name, and if you don’t let them, then nobody can take it (or its’ meaning) away from you.

 

Peace out, (I wrote this all in my first two study periods LOL, I’m being productive!)

The Faerie Squad Mother x

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Phenomenons

I’m going to be petty and childish right now and I have decided that I am just going to WHINE about all those fantastic (and not-so fantastic) books which people decided to turn into movies.

And just to clarify, I will not fight with anyone about this. Books are ALWAYS better than movies. There is never any exception to this rule. If you wish to ensue in a debate about this, feel free to leave a comment and be absolutely obliterated. 🙂

Yes, so perhaps a movie can be an accurate translation of the book (this is often quite rare) and maybe sometimes the movie does the book justice (even rarer), but the only people who can hand-on-heart tell me that movies are ALWAYS better than books are the people who haven’t even read the books.

Or just don’t read in general. (Which is something that upsets my soul to an ever greater extent)

But anyway. There have been so many recent releases of movies which have been taken from – mostly sub-standard – books; a while ago, I was watching a trailer for Mockingjay Part II, and I was just SO mad, because there is so much HYPE about it and barely anyone has even read the series. One trailer describes the movie as an ‘Epic Global Phenomenon’. I DO NOT KNOW WHY THEY ARE HYPING SO MUCH. The series was alright – hardly a phenomenon. I know this will probably get me some hate, but in my opinion, it didn’t deserve to be made into a movie. It was definitely a thrilling, fast-paced read mostly (especially the final book) but I won’t be a kill-joy and tell you who dies. 🙂 At any rate, it wasn’t fantastic, and I would not have thought it an easy transition from book to movie.

It isn’t. (SHOCK HORROR!) Because in the movie, they cut quite a lot from the book. And yes, I get the whole point that you have to cut bits out to make the movie flow more etc. etc. but they cut out PIVOTAL moments from the book. Like where she got her Mockingjay pin from. (HINT HINT: It wasn’t from The Hob). Also, they just seemed to completely miss out a bunch of other things, like the fact that Katniss doesn’t have feelings for Peeta; she has feelings for Gale. But in the movie, they portray her as some greedy girl who can’t seem to make her mind up about who she’s into. (Which, I would assume, is partially the fault of the actors playing her love interests? Clear distraction there…)

Now, I wouldn’t mind so much if they had made this movie with a decent cast; but I think we need to be honest here with each other. Jennifer Lawrence is perhaps the worst Katniss Everdeen they could have cast. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hating. Jennifer Lawrence is a good actress (and obviously, I can’t hate, because I’m no Dame Maggie Smith) but come on. Of all the female actresses to cast as this kick-ass female heroine, they choose her. J-Law. I kid you not, she has two expressions as Katniss: sad and angry. And they’re both the same face.

Also, we have to keep the sense of realism throughout the book translation into a movie. For example, if I find the protagonist of a book to be portrayed as annoying, ignorant and mostly infuriating (*cough cough* Tris from ‘Divergent’) then I want her to be portrayed in the movie in the same manner. I know I’m not the only one to entirely dislike the main character from the Divergent series, and I am completely okay with the potential hate I may get from that statement, but I really dislike how she is portrayed as so lovely and kind and caring in the movie.

Because she is NOTHING like that in the book. And I completely hate her in the book. So much.

The love interests are always difficult to cast (in my mind at least) because in the books, you always imagine them as being extremely attractive – unless it had been stated otherwise. But then in a movie, if they cast an unattractive (or not particularly aesthetically-pleasing) male as the love interest, then your faith in him wanes and you find yourself shallowly wondering how this guy could ever have possibly gotten her to like him. (The key word here being shallowly).

But the main reason why I strongly dislike books-turned-movies is because you can never read the book in the same way again.

Some of the concepts in the ‘Thursday Next’ series (by Jasper Fforde; I am ALWAYS hyping about this, so they BETTER NOT make this series into a movie!) so accurately describe the process of reading. Basically, they say that reading is as much work on the part of the reader as it is the writer. For readers, we have to take the words and turn them into concepts and images in our minds. We have to do part of the job when reading it, as well as the writers have to do by writing it. No two people can have the same experience when reading the same book.

In the same way, when we are reading and imagining characters, they are each different in each of our minds. The writers can only describe the colour of eyes, hair, the shape of mouths, or expressions of different characters. They cannot give exact proportions for nose height and width, or eyebrow elevation (they could but it’d become pretty damn boring and TOTALLY unnecessary) and as a result, we begin to imagine those features more defined in our minds.

The problem is, when there is a movie, we already have an image and a vision of what the characters look like in our own minds. And, like I said before, no two people can have the same experience when reading the same book. Therefore, you could have anywhere from 1million people upwards, all with different needs to be catered for in terms of the casting… so you can never get the casting EXACTLY right for everybody.

Sometimes, when we read it, we actually imagine the most suited actor in Hollywood as that character, but more often than not, we usually invent some nameless gal or dude in order to visualise the world being created in our minds.

If, by some perversion of nature, I was to sit down and pick up the Hunger Games books to reread, the whole time I’d be reading, I would be imagining Katniss in my mind as Jennifer Lawrence. In my mind, Logan Lerman is forever Perseus Jackson, and now, Mary Boleyn from ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ has the face of a blonde Scarlett Johansson.

Which is kind of annoying seeing as I can never get those actors out of my mind now and they will forever dominate my thoughts when I visualise these characters (and more who couldn’t even be listed…)

I only really see three solutions to this problem:

a) I stop watching these movies (stopping reading the books isn’t an option),

b) People stop trying to MAKE the books into movies OR

c) I write the script, cast the actors and direct the movie

I’m definitely leaning towards C.

Anyway, I love you all, and peace out.

Queen Rianna

cropped-yto5pzlte

p.s. Since I turn 16 in 2 days, I have decided that Queen is no longer enough. The instant I turn 16, I am being upgraded to Empress. Just to let you know though, this shouldn’t change much; I’m not feeling ‘The Ramblings of An Empress’ to be honest, so I’ll stick with my blog name, I’ll just sign it off differently? I’m working on how this will all be implemented.

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

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