Wednesday 30 December 2015

My Favourite Songs of 2015

As two days remain until 2015 ends with what I hope will be a bang (albeit of the safe sort, of course!), I'd like to reflect on the treasures that have been sustained over this long and, undoubtedly, busy year. Those treasures? None other than the songs which have brought musical heaven to my very ears, who have adored and fallen in love with genres and singers whose music I might have previously dismissed because of my adolescent ignorance. Ouch, strong words those might be when describing my typically oh-so-fabulous self, yet admitting to my faults is alright if I've corrected them, isn't it?

Nevertheless, 2015 has represented a year of adventure, mystery and discovery in various aspects of my life which, depending on how I've felt at the time, has either delighted or terrified me. Oh, how can I turn a blind eye to the unforgivable terrors of algebra mayhem or sense-blinding panic induced by countless deadlines for piles of work? Despite my occasional struggles, music has always remained as one of my true friends which, as a teenager who loves nothing more than delving into her fantasies, dreams and imaginary worlds from time to time, has provided the perfect antidote to preserving my sanity for the occasions when I've needed it most!

Thanks to receiving a brilliant Sony Xperia phone for my 16th birthday in February, my undeniable passion for music has been increasingly invigorated because of having access to the Walkman music player, which has instilled a greater sense of respect for music within me as I can now dive into my thrilling musical fantasies beyond my bedroom. Especially as I approach my exams next summer, being able to listen to the likes of Lana Del Rey (whose riveting Freak is literally tattooed on my brain) and Madonna whilst completing coursework or revising 'dull' subjects such as Physics has truly spiced up my learning, which is keeping me motivated until I leap over the final hurdle and wave bye-bye to scientific calculators forever. Although that beloved moment may seem millions of miles away right now, music is definitely the best distraction that I could possibly find!

Besides, I feel that 2015 has marked the year in which I've slowly moved away from relying on the old classics, such as Madonna's timeless Erotica (which might strike some as an eccentric choice because it is rarely discussed with the same awe that is typically applied to the likes of Like a Virgin or Like a Prayer) or Sade's Love Deluxe, to satisfy my musical cravings to embracing present day music, which still captures the essence of love, passion and exhilaration that creates an eternal love affair for the art for the ears.

In particular, I've become obsessed with some dance tracks which, despite being rather different to the ones released around two decades ago, embody the same energy that a song needs to make you get up (which is much harder nowadays when the likes of Netflix are tempting you to watch another episode of Orange is the New Black) and dance. OK, I'm sure that dancing around my bedroom in leopard print pyjamas with one of my four sleep-enchanted cats dozing on my bed justifies why Calvin Harris or David Guetta produce music to transform a lifeless nightclub into the vibrant soul of the night, yet I love feeling so free and happy for a couple of minutes at a time where I don't care about what I look like (obviously as long as the curtains are drawn in!) and I only focus about having a good time.

Even though the relentless hassles of studying, responsibilities and chores might sometimes lead to me to wonder whether adolescence is simply destined to be the most stressful and spottiest stage in my entire life, dancing away my stresses to a dance song's heartbeat reminds me of what little I know about the world; mainly, my responsibilities extend to peeling a bag of brussel sprouts for the Sunday roast each week, which is literally nothing when compared to roles required when one becomes fully responsible for themselves as an independent adult. Still, any sort of responsibility is bound to be intimidating at any age, and teenagers like myself are no exception! At least I have the comfort of being assured that, as soon as I plug in my headphones and lose myself to the rhythm of a song, all of my worries are washed away like one gulping down the fizzy contents of a can of Coca Cola.

Seven paragraphs later, and I've yet to even list my favourite songs of this year! How time flies when one solely focuses on themselves (though, if I bother to remember, this blog is actually supposed to be about me), but never mind. As ever, you can only judge music upon listening to it, so I won't provide a massive commentary on these tracks, though be aware if anyone called Lana crops up on the list. For her, I could arrive in 2017 by simply discussing the beauty in her music videos...

1. How Deep is Your Love - Calvin Harris and Disciples
One of the biggest songs of the year (for once, not actually my personal opinion!), How Deep is Your Love demonstrates the power that the UK has in the dance music industry. Usually, I'm not too keen on modern day dance music because it sounds too 'robotic', yet what truly helped me to love this song was the captivating vocals of Ina Wroldsen, which perfectly captured the carefree joys of summer. Anyway, I'm partly grateful for this track because it certainly kept my morale up whilst exercising in my school's gym during the summer, which made the agony of doing one too many squats a little less painful. Well, thank you Calvin Harris...

2. All Cried Out - Blonde feat. Alex Newell
I only recently found this gem which, despite being quite short in length, provides me with enough time to revise the melody and lyrics like the countless pages in my Biology revision book - yet, without a doubt, this is far more fun! If only I could hit the high notes as well as Alex Newell, but I'll leave it to the pros!

3. Magnets - Disclosure feat. Lorde
Two years since her award-winning debut release Pure Heroine, there is currently no sign as to when Lorde will drop her sophomore studio album, yet this blow was significantly cushioned by Magnets, her duet with the electronic duo (information handily sourced from Wikipedia) Disclosure which is still as catchy as Yellow Flicker Beat, the theme song for the The Hunger Games - Mockingjay Part 1 that I still sing along to over a year on. Fingers crossed that Lorde's next album will feature music similar to Magnets, which suits her brilliantly - along with my house-hungry tastes!

4. Music to Watch Boys To - Lana Del Rey

Certainly her most enigmatic and enchanting music video yet, Music to Watch Boys To is a mini cinematic delight, evoking questions about boys, lust and pink flamingos that only a philosopher could truly pose. Well, I suppose that Lana is a sort of philosopher in her own right because her music is thought-provoking, albeit in a manner that still results in your cooing to I live to love you, and I love to love you, I live to love you boy under your breath in first period Maths. And, without needing to say it (yet I will because I really can't help myself), this music video is a visual masterpiece; combining black and white imagery with shocking technicolour, MTWBT is a beauty for the eyes, whilst its melody is so relaxing that I could probably adopt it as my bedtime lullaby. If only this song was about when I was a baby - my parents possibly would have had more restful nights...

Thursday 24 December 2015

Thinking Beyond the Presents (Festive Post!)

As is typical with the festive season, I've been constantly wrapped up in layers of excitement, madness and sheer busyness as the countdown towards Christmas gets as close as the much-awaited release of the new Star Wars film (which, despite mentioning it so it looks as though I've actually bothered to take notice of current affairs of late, I'm not interested in seeing!). And now, with mere hours away until the day that shops, the media and our families will refuse to forget about for what feels like millions of months arrives - doesn't it just amaze you as to how the countdown is nearly up and the hardcore partying (with my cans of Tango Orange, nonetheless) simply awaits? 

To be honest, I've struggled to settle into the festive spirit, if you wish for me to call it such a term, this year than during previous Christmases, for reasons that I can somewhat understand and have absolutely no clue about, like why models always seem to have just missed out on purchasing a sold-out drop-dead gorgeous dress when they stomp down the runaway (though, as a so-called moaner according to my brother, I ought to relate more to it!). 

For starters, studying has consumed me like my brother devouring the richly fruity cake I made the other day for months and, although Christmas is the ideal time to toss my Science revision guides out of the window (for a little while as I'm not that kind of a rebel!), I'm not a robot in the sense that I can switch off my emotions, thoughts and indeed stresses. Like producing a mouth-watering souffle, time is the necessary ingredient in calming myself down as I get used to relaxing during Christmas and forgetting about whether I recognise the difference between infra red and microwaves for at least a couple of days. 

In addition to this, I feel that this year has definitely proved to me that I'm getting old. OK, not the kind where I'll swap my current present ideas of skinny jeans for anti-wrinkle creams so expensive that even thinking about spending a ridiculous amount of money is enough to create a particularly bad case of crow's feet! Instead, the aging blues affect me in the way that Christmas seems to live off the elation and pleasure that is mainly sourced from childhood delight which, as a once Bratz-loving eight year old (whose obsession with toys scarcely more dressed than a Victoria's Secret angel somewhat disturbs me nowadays!), I completely recognise. 

Ripping open teddy bear-patterned wrapping paper to find a Disney Princess mini oven (albeit years before The Great British Bake-Off graced our screens), travelling to a Toys 'R' Us in the middle of nowhere to choose which Bratz dolls my heart most desired for Christmas and receiving gifts that I had no slightest clue about until Christmas Day (unless my brother, ever the daredevil, decided to fill me in on the 'goss' upon 'accidentally' visiting the so-called 'secret' room beforehand) - these moments are not only the most magical memories that one could ever dream of experiencing, yet they are specifically for children which, as I closely approach my 17th birthday, I no longer identify as. 

Does it disappoint me to no longer be treated to special trips to mighty toy stores so that I can select which dolls or toys that spark a wave of happiness to splash within me, or I've now indeed progressed to using real (ridiculously hot) ovens instead of feeling like a pint-sized Nigella Lawson for producing a batch of mediocre, yet sweetly-flavoured cakes in my mini oven? Mostly, I'm grateful for progressing onto newer horizons because I now reserve the freedom to be more selective with what I want as I'm not limited to one specific category - a delightful mixture of books, CDs, clothes and lip glosses appeared on my Christmas list this year, which I suppose is more varied than the Barbie- or Bratz-addled ones I used to have as a pink-clad youngster. If anything, at least I can pride myself upon being able to make cakes and treats that no one in my family will pretend to like because they are actual food - there are only so many times that you can pretend that a limp-looking 'cake' out of a pink sachet is on a par with a homemade Victoria sponge, especially when you are no longer nine years old! 

Nevertheless, Christmas reminds me of how quickly I'm growing up which, like many things, both thrills and terrifies me at the same time; occasionally, I wish that Christmas could be like it used to be when I used to receive plenty of 'surprise' presents which, as pretty much anything girly went down a treat, I always loved. Despite reserving some of my budget for my parents to spend on a surprise gift, I travelled into nearest city yesterday to spend that budget however I wanted because they really couldn't think of anything that I might have liked. This once more proves the difficulties of shopping for teenagers - unsurprisingly, if I can't figure out what I want, it is very unlikely that anyone else can decide for me! Besides, I can comfort myself with knowing that I didn't impulse-buy which, when parents look for Christmas gifts to give to their children, must be rather tempting because it might look better to get something as modern day Christmas tradition seems to dictate that one must buy as many items, regardless of their crappiness, for their loved ones, even if they will probably turn their nose up to it or politely utter 'thank you' after receiving it before returning their 907th round of Flappy Bird.  

Sure, part of me might truly crave a surprise every once in a while - though I truly wouldn't be able to tell you what kind of one my heart craves like the voracious yearning for a Louis Vuitton bag - yet I'd rather receive things that I want instead of getting something which could possibly disappoint me, hence why I tend to prefer receiving money instead of gifts from relatives or friends because hardly anyone, let alone myself, has the precise answer to my shopping desires. Still, I'd never turn my nose up to a Dolce & Gabbana dress...

Since discussing my growing pains with Christmas today, I suppose that I'm feeling more 'Christmassy' than I previously did because Christmas can be presented in numerous ways, yet still retain its festive and certainly fun-tasting flavour. It might no longer taste as sweet and sugary as it did when I used to be presented with bags upon bags of chocolate coins (which I so wish could be used when paying for my shopping - well, everyone deserves a bit of sweetness here and then, don't they?), tubes of addictive Smarties or juicy Fruit Pastilles and selection boxes that contained my favourite chocolates, such as a plain yet extraordinary Cadbury's bar, a bag of Maltesers and Galaxy minstrels - yet Christmas is still Christmas in whatever shape or form you want it to be as you get older, which I should never lose focus of. 

Nowadays, my Christmases are more under-stated, quieter and (thankfully) less destructive towards my metabolism as I lose my taste for certain chocolates or sweets (though a novelty container of berry-flavoured Jelly Babies found their way into the shopping bag yesterday), yet I nonetheless appreciate them just as much as I always have and will. It's just that I now see beyond the presents, and fully appreciate the importance and beauty of the food, music, films (even the ones that I shouldn't really admit to watching at this age; Disney is to blame for that!) and spending time with my family. And also realising that I'm indeed not an exam machine and I deserve time to relax at home - and what better time to do that than at Christmas?

All in all, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and a brilliant New Year that I hope is filled with as much positivity, good luck and happiness as you deserve. Also, thanks for reading my blog which, despite taking a back seat from working on it for the past few months, still means a lot to me as it has proven to be the best possible platform for releasing the furious vibes that only one can experience during a spectacularly bad teenage meltdown. Here's to a fantastic (and minimally moan-free) 2016!

Saturday 12 December 2015

Appreciating Christmas

With just another four and a half days to go until I finally break up for my long-awaited Christmas break, it's fair to say that excitement is gradually bubbling up like a simmering pot of gravy; as each day passes in a rain-soaked breeze, festive spirit warms up even more of my room, which has now firmly established my appreciation of the festive holidays awaiting me. Presents! Food! Films! And so many lie-ins that my head will literally explode with extra sleep! What more could I ask for from my favourite time of year? The possibility of sitting terrifying exams - albeit less grotesque than seeing a live spider being eaten on TV last Sunday which, when coupled with my consumption of a hearty roast dinner, is hardly an award-winning combination - would be a particularly special treat, though I'm not banking on it...

However, one thing that I can most definitely rely on is getting a much-needed rest from exams, revision and homework for a little while: a present that, unlike the gorgeous penguin jumper that sent me into a fit of ecstatic squeals of adoration when I saw it on the H&M website the other week (hint, hint!), cannot be wrapped in lashings of teddy bear paper or stylised with a shimmery bow. Without a trace of amusement in my words, I really have needed a break from my studies for weeks because the workload is constantly increasing like adverts for overcooked turkey and scrawny-looking vegetables gaining more airspace on TV; in some ways, coming to terms with the spine-chilling fact that my exams are only six months away from taking place is slowly freaking me out. Big time!!!

Obviously, panic is only a natural emotion and, if I didn't feel at all concerned about having to sit approximately twenty exams within the period of six to seven weeks next summer, even more concern would be stapled into my already-fluttering stomach. That's not to say that I'm as thrilled as my cats receiving a new toy to play with to their hearts' content (in the form of my used cotton wool buds!) about my mini mental meltdown about establishing the paths I take in my life within less than half a year's time because, like all Year 11s across the country, I'm secretly sick about the thought of undergoing such an intrusive, stressful and dramatic process in order to get to my ideal destination: sixth form.

Although I sometimes think that one needs to suffer in order to enjoy the good things in life, I don't necessarily apply this belief to my own circumstances of sitting a ridiculous amount of exams - as whiny and reminiscent of a six year old throwing a tantrum in the toy aisle at Teso might sound, it's not fair!!! Still, neither I nor the millions of teenagers in this country possess the power to change the inevitable, which is sitting our GCSEs next year. And, just for at least a little while (as my Science teacher has decided to dump three past papers to complete over the holidays due to many people in m class getting U grades in their mock exams - quite unjust that I must be punished for their laziness, too), I want to get wrapped up in festive fever and remind myself to relax a little bit more.

Of course, getting decent grades in my mocks, controlled assessments, coursework, homework and my actual exams next year is my number one priority, yet there are numerous things that cannot be measured by letters listed on a piece of paper that I'll receive on Results Day next August. What will be among those things? Happiness. Without a good-sized dose of happiness in my life, I will certainly struggle to leap through the final hurdle before I sit and survive the gruelling exam season. Why? At the end of the day, I'm not an exam machine - and neither are all of my friends and peers who await the same fate as me. As if I want the day when I broke down in tears over struggling to revise the menstrual cycle to be my most defining moment of 2015! And yeah, of all the subjects to get stressed about, it had to be about periods - how I have such an ability to indulge in irony during my saddest moments!

Therefore, I absolutely cannot wait to kickstart the festivities next week, which will be celebrated by my starting the long, yet worthwhile process of making my annual Christmas cake, complete with thick layers of marzipan (giving me an ideal excuse for eating hand-sized balls of it when no one is looking in my direction!) and beautifully plumped up dried fruit that is rich with brandy (by the way, the closest that I will be getting to alcohol during the festive season). Beyond that, I'll probably rewatch all of the Christmas films that I've ever seen because, like stuffing yourself with more sausage rolls than one could possibly eat over the course of a year within five minutes, why not?

Though, if you are wondering, I'm not that fussed about eating the 'snacky' foods such as crisps (despite eating a bag of ready-salted at school yesterday, but that was a very special treat!) or canapes this year, preferring to eat the homemade stuff as it not only tastes a million times better, but it is usually healthier, too. Besides, as all long-suffering sisters will know, once your brothers reaches adolescence, you will stand a very slim chance of eating anything remotely 'unhealthy' - as he will have eaten everything apart from the crumbs first! No wonder that I'm left with little choice other than to hide biscuits and chocolate underneath my bed...

All in all, I'm increasingly warming up to the prospect of Christmas arriving on my doorstep in less than a fortnights' time - despite being closer to an adult than a child nowadays (as I'm less than two months away from turning 17 - yikes!!!), I still share the love and wonder of my seven year old self when Christmas is here as it is the best escape from the everyday hassles and going-ons in life. Just another few days until the holidays are here!

Saturday 28 November 2015

Settling Back into the Blogosphere

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of destruction, I am rising from beneath piles of sheets, mind maps and felt tip pens to return to blogging, which I have desperately missed for ages

Honestly, losing track of the time in between uploading my posts is so easy when I'm consumed with work which, for the record, I'm definitely not exaggerating about - well, try sitting a ridiculous number of mock exams within the space of two weeks! Thankfully for my (and everybody else's) sake, my mocks have reached a delightful end, and I can now relax a little bit more; without a doubt, having a nervous breakdown over the menstrual cycle is certainly not how I wish to spend my weekend!

Anyway, I've been pretty much just trying to survive the unavoidable stresses which slap you in the face like a frisbee whacking a Hollywood star's fake nose all month and, if I do say so myself, I think that I've done quite a good job. For starters, I was one mark off a B in both my Biology and Chemistry mocks - so close to reaching my aspirational targets that I could literally feel euphoria bursting inside of me like a firework exploding in the sky - yet I'm nonetheless thrilled with my progress because I completely missed out on studying the specific units due to not attending my present school when they originally taught it. 

As was the case when I joined my school one year ago next Friday (which I shall be celebrating by sitting my Science ISA all day - never have I preserved such a ironic sense of humour), I've had to devote a lot of time to catching up in Science which, as it doesn't come naturally to me like annotating a poem or translating a passage in French does, has considerably stressed me out over the past few weeks. Despite my reputation for slightly over-exaggerating my views at times, I couldn't have possibly been closer to the truth by describing my immense fear of sitting my Science mocks around two weeks ago: I was certain that failure was destined to pour teardrops of despair upon me. Still, I carried on revising as much as I could, and hoped for the best - fortunately, I managed to pass all of my Science mocks, unlike quite a few of my fellow classmates who did not miss out on being taught the content! 

All in all, I'm only starting to pull myself out of the vast pool that is my studies for the first time in weeks and, between yourself and I, doing what I want to do - without being crushed by waves of guilt for 'wasting' precious hours that could be used for revision - has lifted a massive weight off my shoulders. Of course, I have no regrets over giving up certain activities - such as this blog - for the sake of literally tattooing algebraic equations onto my brain because my confidence in many subjects, such as Maths and obviously Science, has soared as a result of realising my abilities; beforehand, I wasn't entirely sure about whether I could reach my aspirations in all of my subjects, yet these fears are slowly melting away and being replaced with a strengthened belief in myself. 

OK, catching up with my favourite TV shows guarantees hours of priceless entertainment, but will it lend me a helping hand as I waltz down a path to my personal success? Not really. Making sacrifices has been difficult at times because I've been forced to fight against the urge to indulge in my deepest pleasures, such as baking a batch of cookies or going into town for the afternoon, yet I wouldn't have it any other way if giving up several things is necessary for achieving success. Besides, the said sacrifices don't last forever - as if I'd willingly stay away from the TV remote for longer than a week or two!

Despite my mocks seemingly filling up every spare moment that I've had of late, time has nevertheless been reserved for thinking about my future which, like Christmas, is approaching nearer and nearer towards me everyday. For a while, I had been asking myself about whether I wanted to stay or move on from my current school after Year 11 is over. The reason why? Unlike other sixth forms in the local area, my school would limit my A-Level options to just three instead of the usual four, which I strongly felt would make the usually agonising task of settling on a single career significantly harder because of having a restricted taste in possible subject areas. 

Although I only found this out around a week ago, my school has dropped French from its A-Level curriculum from next year, which is an absolute no-no: I would be a chef with no culinary skills if I had to abandon ma belle langue seconde! Therefore, whether I liked the idea or not before, I definitely will not be staying on at my school this time next year, which promises a fresh adventure for me before I hopefully go to university and beyond. 

A fortnight ago, I attended an open evening for the selective girls' sixth form in town, which ironically fell on the same day that I'd started my mock exams (in Maths and English Language) and was the night before my Biology mock (further contributing to my then-hysterical levels of panic). Nevertheless, I managed to block out my stress and worry for a few hours to be enchanted by the sixth form, which not only offers all of the A-Levels I want to study (English Lit, Sociology, Media and, evidemment, French) but demonstrated a calmer and quieter atmosphere that I much prefer. 

Instead of standing out for having a so-called 'posh' accent as I do at my current school (which people, even the ones I get on well with, have an habit of reminding me about), all of the girls at the sixth form spoke just as well, which made me realise that perhaps I'm better suited to their sort of environment. They dress smartly, unlike the sixth formers in my present school who consider a tube skirt which barely covers their underwear to be 'appropriate' for learning, and shared an enthusiasm for their studies which has established me as a 'freak' at my current school. Although most of the teachers are extremely willing to help their pupils to reach their potential, I've realised that my personal happiness at my current school is not the best that it can be, and I don't want to look back at my education in ten years' time and wonder why I didn't get a taste of different kind of place when the opportunity was available to me. 

As of this week, my application at the selective sixth has been posted, along with one that I'd sent to a non-selective, but high-performing school in the nearest city; I have no intention of making an application to my school's sixth form, so my academic life is destined to change once more in less than a year's time. After going through the stress of switching schools almost a year ago, am I unhappy at the thought of moving again? To be honest, I'm looking forward to the change. Sixth form only lasts two years and, before I'll even have a spare second to blink my eyelids, I will be walking among the millions of adults in the country, gradually forgetting what it was like to be young and on the cusp of freedom. If I have the choice to make those two years the most academically enriching and personally elated years of my school life, I will seize it with all of my might. Well, there are times for foolishness (like when I nearly stumbled down the stairs after my leg had decided to fall into a state of heavy numbness) - yet decisions as massive as these must be excused from such ignorance! 

On a less serious note, I'm starting to get ready for the upcoming festive season, which I'm getting more excited about as my enthusiasm for cosy jumpers, light-hearted films and chocolate logs grows each day; whatever happens, Christmas is always here, and I cannot wait for the holidays to begin in less than three weeks' time. Hopefully, I'll manage to sort out my Christmas list by the end of this weekend, yet doing so is always hard because my 17th birthday - which just proves how old I'm getting! - is only five weeks afterwards. Still, it will all work out; well, my parents are reminding me to get on with it!

Here's for a peaceful and revision-free (or at least refraction-free) weekend, which I've been dreaming of for more time than I'm actually bothered to count!


Sunday 1 November 2015

The Lessons I've Learnt This Half-Term

As the end of half-term reaches its final destination (noticed the pun on the cult horror film? Albeit a day late), I'm once again gathering the courage to face another round of coursework, revision and exams (thankfully the mocks - do you really think that I would be demonstrating the calmness of a Buddhist monk if they were the actual ones?!), which will occupy most of my time until Christmas arrives in its gloriously red packaging next month. Oh, how I'm truly excited about Christmas getting near now that we have moved into November - finally, the one time of the year when I fully embrace festive films is thrillingly close to being within reach! Still, my family haven't stopped themselves from dipping their toes into certain festive features, such as mince pies, which, if I had my own way, would be available all year around, but never mind...

If half-term has proved itself in any way, I suppose that it has been useful in providing me with a bit of time to decide what I'd like to put on my Christmas list. Unlike previous years, I've actually left the tremendous process of figuring out what little moi would love to rip open the wrapping paper to be greeted by rather late; of course, leaving your Christmas list till the end of October is always going to be likened to the frantic late-on-Christmas-Eve panic if compared to last year when I started writing my list just before the summer holidays ended!

Luckily, I'm getting used to the idea - and possibility - of purchasing the Babyliss Big Hair Styler which, despite its rather scary-looking size, can actually add plenty of volume and sleekness to your hair: an asset that would go down a treat with my naturally straight (and therefore thinnish) hair! Also, hair-related matters have been receiving more of my attention of late since I got a fringe at the beginning of the week which, to my delight, has softened my face and made the typically heinous attempt at wearing a ponytail less terrifying; at last, I no longer resemble a stern-looking governess if I dare to pull my hair out of my face! Other benefits of having my fringe is that, if I wear my yellow jumper (which, in my eyes, screams 60s babe to me), I emulate the glamour and beauty featured in Mad Men, a brilliant drama which I'm eager to refer to for its fantastic 60s clothing.

And, well, eyeliner has never looked so good on me since getting my fringe! It naturally draws more attention to my almond-shaped eyes; once again, I sigh at the thought of having to give up my favourite make-up staple for a few hours at school. Especially since I finally found a sharpener for my eyeliners after spending an entire week without one!

Hopefully, I've finally made my mind up as to what I want to put on my Christmas list which, so far, includes Lana Del Rey's latest album Honeymoon (if just for Music to Watch Boys To alone, though singing the hypnotic High by the Beach should be thanked for soothing my algebra-induced worries) and the Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy's collection of poems, Rapture, which contains Quickdraw - a poem that I compared and wrote about in my recent English Literature exam. Even though writing what seems like a million paragraphs on poems has defined my life recently, I still reserve a love for poetry and would love to explore it in a book by a poet whose work I've loved analysing. Besides, Duffy is a feminist, which makes me even more interested in deciphering the messages behind her poems; whereas some people like to study the science involved in movement, I'm more passionate about what 'silver bullets of your kiss' and 'high saloon' could symbolise!

Anyway, I've enjoyed taking things back to basics this week by devoting some time to watching TV, writing on this blog (a hobby which I doubt I'll ever get bored of - who has ever found liberation to be dull?) and doing some revision for my upcoming mock exams, which I'm a bit less worried about than I was a couple of days ago. Also, this week has provided me with the perfect motive to figure several things out in relation to my life and life in general, such as:

  1. Some people hurt you. As simple as that - but such a gesture shouldn't be considered right because it definitely isn't. 
  2. Don't waste time worrying about what other people think about you because, if you were doing anything wrong, you'd be the first to know about it. Besides, those 'other people' are practically strangers to you - do they know the most basic or intimate facts about you? Unless they are secretly telepathic or Sherlock Holmes in disguise, you can take a wise bet that they don't. 
  3. If you're unhappy, do something about it - if not, at least plan ahead for the future when something can be changed. 
Facing up to several tough and truthful facts can be difficult if your mind is taken hostage by the moody blues, but I'm feeling more positive about certain things that I did before. As for that boy I used to be friends with, I can't say that I've gotten over his betrayal because saying that would be, in my mind, suggesting that I don't care about what other people do to me. Sure, it winds me up that he lacks the decency that I genuinely thought he possessed because, if that was made clear to me when we first met, I would have never bothered speaking or hanging out with him, but can I change him? No way. Even if he came up to me tomorrow and asked me whether I fancy meeting up with him, I wouldn't consider for a second to say 'yes' - from the moment you screw me over, you land immediately into my blacklist. Which, if you haven't already figured out, will remain there until the end of time. 

Therefore, I now appreciate that there are many lessons beyond what is taught in the classroom, which stay with you for life. And, without a doubt, learning how to make yourself happy is far more important than revising the sections of a plant cell, though sometimes you just have to suck it up - perhaps because, somewhere deep inside you, you realise that it's for your own good. 

Meanwhile, my head will be filled with many other messages and facts before long, yet something inside me says that I won't be forgetting this week's lessons in a hurry. Unlike some instances, I can just tell that they are right. 

Wednesday 28 October 2015

Appreciating the Joys of Half-Term, Autumn and Essays

Half-term, Halloween and a hell of a lot of work - the perfect potion as I'm about to embark on the weeks leading to Christmas! OK, you might find a frazzled teen occasionally getting into a panic as she focuses all her energy (well, the best part of it; once a Lana fan, it is near enough impossible to switch off tracks like Music to Watch Boys To and Honeymoon in the radio station that is my mind) on understanding the Cosine rule which, to her annoyment, refuses to work properly on her calculator, resulting in yet another hurricane of rage... Just another day in the life of a modern teenage girl, as you have probably assumed.

Ah. Ever since the clocks went backwards on Saturday nights, I seem to have been paying further attention to autumn whose golden, shimmery beauty has never captivated me until now. Just a short while ago, I went for a walk as the setting sun was at its most beautiful state, which made me realise that autumn is truly the best season - and if only it could last a bit longer. Not only is hearing the crunch of leaves a delightful noise, but autumn symbolises fresh beginnings which, as I'm only days away from entering November, are becoming less new and more familiar.

Am I only the only person who gets a bit sad when new things - which, when they are first presented to me, maintain my attention and get me so excited as they have yet to be discovered and known like I recognise myself inside out - lose their freshness and eventually become old? For example, I mostly felt thrilled at the prospect of going into Year 11 during the summer holidays because, like Year 10, it represented new opportunities for me, which I couldn't wait to discover. Yet, nearly two months in, that excitement has worn off like a coat of lipstick, growing somewhat stale and a ghost of its unknown beauty which fascinated me in what felt like a week ago.

Is it a shame that all new things are destined to grow old? It depends on how you look at it. If I'd never gone into Year 11, I would have been deprived of numerous chances to demonstrate and develop confidence in my abilities and, in order to do so, I needed to 'break the ice', which I suppose is the ritual for getting used to something, rather in the manner of breaking in an unworn pair of shoes. And, by the way, my school shoes - once as clean as a just-bought dress - have definitely been worn in by now which I couldn't be more glad about, if not just for the sake of my once-blistered feet!

Anyway, whether I like it or not at times, I can't escape from the truth that I'm well and truly getting through Year 11 which, depending on how I view it (and whether my mood is being seriously affected by my horribly emotional hormones), is sometimes a relief and a curse. For starters, the thought of leading a Maths-free life by this time next year is extremely comforting when I feel close to tears on the occasions that I can't get my head around curved graphs (whose existence in this world cannot be explained, or so I like to believe), along with completing the remaining controlled assessments and pieces of coursework which, for several of my subjects, will seriously determine my overall grades before I even walk into the exam hall for my actual exams next summer.

However, preparing for my ever-nearing exams is a) not fun, b) extremely stressful and c) a horrendous reason why you cannot devour any new TV box sets because most of your free time is eaten up by homework, revision or coursework which, as of this week, I want to bawl my eyes out at the very sight of it.

For the first time ever (and hopefully the last, if the heavens above decide to bless my good efforts), I completed a 10000 word essay for Performing Arts yesterday, which took many hours of sheer suffering, nail-biting confusion (I use that term very sparingly - who, in their right mind, would nibble their nails in the one week where they can wear nail polish without fear of being given a detention or ordered to dunk their nails in pure acetone?!) and emotionally damaging procrastination until I finally saw the light that was my printer, eventually printing off my nineteen page piece of art.

Well, I don't really think that a piece of art is a term worthy enough to describe my work which was, in plain and fuzzy brain-friendly English, an evaluation on my class's trip to see Wicked in the West End last week. A performance which I absolutely loved watching, I guess that I really couldn't stop myself from going overboard when describing the symbolisation of green skin tones and black witch hats, hence why I reached the 10000 word mark for the first time in my sixteen years on this planet. Still, I've been comforted by a neighbour that the word count for dissertations at uni are considerably less, which has definitely confirmed to me that I am the QUEEN OF OVERBOARD.

Well, at least you can't fault me for effort, can you? Especially if it will get me an A*, just saying...

Moving on, Halloween is just three days away, yet, for once, I'm actually not interested in it. Even just writing these words makes my inner child, who is responsible for my obsession with cats and self-taught ability to steal chips from the baking tray at lightning speed when I think that Mum isn't looking in my direction, cry sorrowfully because a once valued event in my childhood has lost its preciousness. In many ways, I'm disappointed that I no longer show an interest in celebrating Halloween with all of its orange lights, pumpkins and countless bags of treat-sized Mars bars because, when I was young enough to fully appreciate it, I definitely loved it and every year I would look forward to Halloween as much as I would with Christmas and Easter.

No matter how nostalgic I might become over certain events in the past, falling back in love with them is never guaranteed because, as I've gotten older, one precious lesson I've learnt is that chasing old passions when you have changed can never be as good. Even though I'm pretty sure that Sade never wrote it to commemorate the occasion, her song Never As Good As The First Time truly justifies why I've lost the remaining sparks of a childhood love for Halloween, whose image has remarkably changed since I was six years old and used to love dressing up as a witch each year in the hope of receiving an extra bag of cola Haribos amongst my many other sweets. Nowadays, Halloween is way too commercialised and seems to be more about the amount of money that can be spent or made from it - in my opinion, that simply robs it of any value, whether in terms of money or not.

Oh well, I'll never fall out of love with treats, one of which I got in the form of a milky chocolate bar yesterday and cannot resist for a moment longer. It's a Wednesday and I've worked very hard to earn a square, so perhaps I'll give into my cocoa urges. If I'm going to do anything, you can guarantee that I'll do it my way - and certainly not anybody else's!



Monday 26 October 2015

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Online

Boys, boys, boys... What would the world do without them? If the male species didn't exist, modern day life wouldn't be so vibrantly enriched with football, Calvin Klein and one too many empty packets of the chocolate biscuits which you lock away for yourself.

Well, nobody has the automatic right to declare their allegiance to the art of perfection, do they? Regardless of gender, everybody has the right to be decent human beings which, without trying to sound too biased (though, considering that this is my blog, you can accuse me of being so), I don't think is the hardest thing in the world. Seriously, possessing manners is exactly what I consider to be essential in life, precisely like being equipped with shampoo, clothes and emergency bottles of mascara (on the off-chance that stressing over coursework brings me to the emotional teenage edge whilst I'm out and about, you know).

Still, one thing that I can no longer turn my short-sighted eye blind to is this: everybody is different. For starters, you could label me as 'different' if you compare me to my peers at school, the majority of whom are within the 'popular' camp whereas I refuse to be labelled as anything other than remaining true to my individuality, regardless of the price that I might pay in terms of destroying any chances of becoming the most popular person in town. But do I care? Not at all.

As a teenager, thinking that you're the best person to have ever lived just demonstrates naivety because so many people have been trapped into that line of thought generations before mine was born - yet did they live up to the god-like greatness that supposedly symbolised them? Um, let me Google that for you: absolutely NOT! Whether you're fifty or fifteen, I very much doubt that anyone is able to be on a par with a god or a creature whose power is so mystifying that no one really knows its worth; therefore, is reaching that status likely for any ordinary people like yourself or I? Being a thoughtful kind of person, I'd prefer to not declare the answer because its obviousness is absolutely irritating. And, if you have yet to notice by simply reading this entry's opening line, I'm not really in the mood to waste time on stupid matters.

Like the person who, after meeting up with me several times over the summer holidays, cannot muster the energy to send me a simple text, despite my making several attempts to generate a shadow of a conversation. Just weeks ago, he was literally attached to me like a cat sticks himself to a scratch post; we had created what I thought was a strong friendship, yet I suppose that I hadn't bothered to find the proper definition of 'strong' because my relationship with him is now anything but.

Does it hurt to feel like a ton of bricks have fallen from the sky and landed on my head? Absolutely. Feeling as though I'm being ignored by someone who I truly believed cared about me tears through me like my kitten Teddy catching his claws in my clothes, yet on a significantly deeper scale because my trust has been betrayed.

Yet, if I'm being completely honest, I tended to think that betrayal was created by a purpose and, in some instances, could have been justified if the one committing the betrayal had been betrayed before in the past. No matter what, betrayal is betrayal and no amount of words, fancy descriptions or puzzling definitions can alter its negative representation, but there really is no reason as to why this boy has dropped me like a teenager leaving their childhood firmly behind.

Have I been rude to him or said anything which would have upset his feelings? As one of the most sensitive and emotional teenagers to have ever lived on Earth, you can bet your future Prada handbag that I would be the first to realise if I had hurt someone because guilt would flood through me until I had apologised. Like most people, I get no kicks out of apologising and, at times, I think that the other person should be apologising to me, yet I can't stand living in a hostile atmosphere and would rather forgive for the sake of bringing things back to normal instead of leaving matters up in the air. In my honest opinion? If someone had upset you, speaking up about it seems like the natural way to go - and I haven't received any of that from the boy. Or anything else, for that matter.

In fact, ever since I told him that I couldn't meet up with him one weekend due to being on a school trip at the same time (which I would have definitely not missed for the world - like who would say no to an opportunity to stay at a uni campus and go clothes shopping in town?), he has been, well, quiet. By this, he has completely stopped replying to my texts, which he claims is due to never 'having his phone switched on', while he never logs onto his Facebook account because he has either forgotten his log-in or simply 'can't' (a word which has the ability to drive me around the bend at times, believe me!). And school? Even when my friends are standing next to him, he doesn't speak to them, so obviously I receive the same treatment. And, really, what kind of friend looks through my friends as though they are ghosts? That just says it all.

Upon realising that this friendship is as doomed as the destined sinking of the Titanic, I have gone through a variety of emotions whilst trying to reach peace with not myself, because I haven't bothered thinking for a moment that any of this is my thought, but with the bastards in the world who pathetically believe that wasting any girl's time is an absolute joke. In many ways, this whole thing upsets me because I feel that I could have spent my summer holidays doing more things for myself instead of devoting three or four days to hanging out with him, which I only did because I thought that we were friends. Whether it relates to school or relationships, I will always put my all into making it work because, if I don't, what is the point in trying at all? At least that is one of the many things that I can't be accused of not doing when I was trying to maintain a glimmer of a friendship with him.

If there is one upside to this travesty of events, I've realised that having a friendship with a boy - especially a romantic one - is perhaps not the wisest of moves at the moment because, albeit not all, many of them are not quite as mature as I would like in order to sustain a lasting relationship. Even though it disappoints me a bit that the boys in my year are a bit of a way off from developing the maturity that I respect and possess, I don't mind because too much is happening in my life at the moment, which you only need to guess by looking at the few entries I've posted over the past two months.

Despite exam hysteria (both mock and actual ones!) defining every Year 11's life right now, I didn't use it as an excuse to completely cut all ties with this boy, yet it seems that my efforts were not enough to save what was destined to be a sinking ship.

Although I've had to face up to one of the most crushing lessons that one can learn in life - the one about people not necessarily being as great as they portray themselves to be - I have at least had the pleasure of appreciating some fantastic songs about boys wasting certain girls' time. And if those girls are among the likes of music legends such as Alanis Morrisette, Erkyah Badu and, the best one of them all, Taylor Swift, I know that I'm in extremely fine company.

Well, you oughta know, shouldn't you?

Saturday 17 October 2015

Impatience: Never a Redeeming Quality!

I. Am, Just. So. Relieved. *sighs very deeply*

After around six weeks since my delightful summer holidays - which, unless you are one of the few lucky people who are capable of remembering every single moment in your life - came to end, I'm getting closer to what is currently looking to be the best ever occasion to have ever taken place during my sixteen years on this planet: half-term.

Aw, the very word almost makes me squeal like an over-excited kitten with delight! Really, I don't even know how to discuss the very prospect of being able to enjoy a perfect week of lie-ins and Simpsons re-runs in the very comfort of my own home because I have so often wondered if it would ever happen. Well, as soon as I get through yet another action-packed week, then half-term will truly be mine to seize with all of the excitement that is constantly buzzing through me like a vibrating phone!

For starters, I needn't devote several paragraphs (which, if you know me well enough by now, you would have the sense to skip) to going on about how sorry I am for not keeping you updated over the past few weeks, but it is obvious now that my whole life is becoming extremely, ridiculously and crazily busy almost all the time. OK, my studies - which are intensifying bit by bit every single day as I get closer to sitting my all-important mock exams next month - are consuming as much of my time as I devote precious moments here and there to indulge on a few squares of coffee-flavoured chocolate (totally my new passion), but I'm also trying to juggle the seemingly easy, yet deceivingly difficult task of providing myself with enough relaxation along with keeping my friendships, happiness and family bonds as persistent as I possibly can.

Without sounding too much like a drama queen (because, believe me, I have given up on the hope of never portraying myself as an over-the-top madam as it is somehow chemically wired into my DNA), it cannot come across as the most shocking news ever to hear that I land onto my pillow at night like a plane arrives on a runaway and drift off into a slumber which, albeit deep, never fully cleanses me of the stresses, responsibilities and quadratic equations that I'm desperately trying to cope with on a constant basis.

Of course, I realise that life is hard and, when your responsibilities increase, so do your priorities - obviously, I'm always going to put my revision ahead of my aching desire to watch one of my favourite TV programmes, yet sometimes having to do the 'right thing' gets me down because seeing the bigger picture becomes as blurred as squinting through a steamed-up shower: it's just not always possible to look beyond the present moment, whether you perceive it as a positive thing or not.

For example, I get stressed from time to time when I arrive home late after staying on for a revision session at school because, what with only having so many hours in the day to stay awake, there is less time for me to stop thinking about work and actually treat myself to reading a book or listening to songs that provide a welcoming, comforting relief from the everyday woes of the world. Irritatingly, I usually get home just before six on a Thursday evening, which winds me up so much because I can just feel the tick of the many clocks in my house remind me of the few hours I'm granted to get changed, have something to eat, sort my bag and P.E. kit for the following day and other minor things which I can't be bothered to list. To you, my points might sound trivial and petty because the process of chucking a few books out of my bag and replacing it with other ones is definitely not the hardest job in the world, yet I can feel these tasks stacking up like a pile of homework (which I work ridiculously hard at to keep to a minimum, often at the expense of my free time once again) - certainly not the perfect formula to creating a potion of relaxation in amongst life's daily stresses!

Still, if there is one thing that the past six weeks have given me, it has certainly been my renewed ability to just 'get on with it', whatever that might be. Sure, there's nothing stopping me from moaning about the injustice of having the equivalent to two hours worth of exams on a Monday morning (as was the case this week and will be next week) yet, as time passes even more quickly towards my exams next year, I'm able to keep remembering the reasons why I put so much effort into my work, thoughts of which have helped me get through testing and emotional moments.

One highlight from this week was receiving two awards in my year's group annual awards ceremony, which meant a great deal to me because I was able to see that my teachers have recognised my efforts, especially as I had to contend with catching up in all of my classes upon joining at Christmas last year. Whether I was going to receive an award or not, I still would have applied myself in whatever way possible in my studies because I like to know that I've tried my hardest, which is the most that anyone can ask from me. And, obviously, bringing a small trophy home (for coming first as best effort in R.E., which I also see as a 'goodbye' from my old Sociology and R.E. teacher, who left after the summer) was such a brilliant moment, if you must ask!

Anyway, I'm now keeping my hopes as high as I can until half-term starts next week, though I really can't wait to go on my Performing Arts trip to London on Wednesday, where my class will see Wicked in the West End. As a part-Londoner - or so I like to think of myself as because both of my parents were born and raised there - I relish the thought of returning to southern soil which, despite embracing the area where I now live, I suppose I still miss because an undistinguished part of me automatically views it as my 'native land'.

Besides, I've never really been to London which, regarding my links to it, is rather ironic, but I'm glad to be exploring it as part of what looks to be a thrilling occasion. As ever the fashionista, I quickly sorted out what clothes I'll be wearing, which shall be a grey tunic-like dress and my Little Red Riding Hood-esque coat to inject a bit of colour and warmth into my rather dark outfit. Fortunately, I won't stumble out of bed at six on Wednesday morning without a clue as to what I'll wear - where I can be organised, I definitely will be!

Also, luck landed on my door like a parcel several weeks ago where I completed my first GCSE in ICT. As one of my least favourite subjects because I don't consider ICT to be useful unless it is used for purchasing items from Amazon or finding out what your favourite singer is currently doing on Wikipedia, I didn't see it as one of my best subjects, which tend to be heavily based on essays where I can ramble on for ever and ever until I literally need to be physically restrained from my pen! Still, surprises can still, well, surprise me, which I certainly got when I got around to finishing the course where I achieved an A*!!! Without a doubt, I was absolutely over the moon because I used to think that I was such a klutz with computers (and, to this day, I hardly know how to use a TV remote!), yet my family now think of me as an ICT expert. Perhaps I am, but I was more pleased about being treated to a slice of Oreo cheesecake at a restaurant nearby the other weekend - and obviously getting my first of what I hope will be several A*s!

And I suppose that is all I really want to say today. In the past few weeks, I've learnt that the lovechild of cheesecake and an A* is the best-tasting flavour on this planet, while I've developed a secret strength which should get me through any challenging moments that may arise on my path to self-actualisation.

A winning formula? It might not be deemed as the image of perfection, but I seem to think so.

Saturday 26 September 2015

Just a reminder that I'm still here...

Oh. My. Gosh. Has it been nearly a month since my manicured nails, then painted in a varnish so gorgeously black that it twinkled like the very pit of a soul, previously typed my somewhat farewell to this beloved blog of mine?! Honestly, I would be willing to bet that years have passed since that very moment, but I suppose that you don't realise the speediness of time until you reach days like this one, where you are finally granted a moment to 'think about it all' like I am right now.

Phew. So much - shopping trips, moments of classic teenage meltdowns and one too many Oreo-inspired Aldi biscuits included - has happened since September rolled around in an initially peaceful whirlwind. For starters, I'm nearly halfway through my first term as a so-called 'cool' and 'superior' Year 11, a status which has brought as much stress, exhaustion and excitement as living with the responsibility of just being a teenager in general - no wonder I appreciated this morning's lie-in like a sleepy kitten (who has an awful habit of sleeping on the sheets that I just changed last night)!

As the past few weekends have either involved homework or going on trips, such as the one I had the honour (which makes me sound like I'm praising the holy God of Fashion or something along those lines) of being included last weekend where I visited a university up north (and grabbed as many free pens as I could in addition to taking a million or so selfies in my room, which was far nicer than any of the ones I've visited in a Travelodge), time typically reserved for blogging duties has been in short supply. But do I mind? Not really.

Even though blogging has never been anything other than a dancing-around-my-room-like-a-wannabe-Madonna image of happiness, life cannot always revolve around a few words that I might write whilst cooped up in my bedroom on a Saturday morning - besides, I'm finding that I'm writing more than ever what with essays on poems and research into skills used in Drama, so there is no concern about my turning a back on one of the greatest passions one could ever have in life!

Still, trying to juggle a number of things at the same time is as tough as teaching an unwilling and hissy cat (like my lovely, but nonetheless hormonal kitty Benny) to swim in the bath: you just can't do everything. Already, I've given up my role in a Performing Arts Council which I used to be part of at school because I'd gotten sick of devoting literally all of my free time at school to more work - when possible, I'll do all I can to avoid being swamped with unnecessary stress. Why? It simply is NOT worth the hassle, even if it just for the mere sake of eating your lunch (with those awkwardly wrapped mini cucumbers, which some clueless Year 9s assume are stinky, disgusting and foul-tasting pickles - as if!).

Although returning to what I can only describe as utter madness after a near seven-week hiatus as far more than a shock to the system, I'm starting to appreciate such tactics because I'm gradually learning to cope with the workload; though my exams thankfully won't start until next May, I'm relieved to be developing the skills which will be essential to keep me mostly sane by the time that my stress levels will surely be tested to the max! OK, I can't declare that I'm totally immune to the mini teenage meltdown (which can involve pacing around my room like a six year old unsure on which Barbie to buy - as I can assure you, not such a great look when you're 16!), but hopefully I'll keep it together when others might crumble like the flaky pastry on a freshly baked sausage roll. Talking of which, I do quite fancy some homemade ones...

Overall, I think that I'm doing rather well in life at the moment - after attending lessons for just over a year, I'm starting to believe that I'm actually OK at Zumba, despite my occasional fears that I'll fall asleep whilst leaping into the air like a ballerina. Though I doubt that I'll be asked to complete as a pro on Strictly any time soon, it has finally gotten through to me that I'm not the world's most dreadful dancer; if I was, surely a video of me would have trended on Facebook long before now?

And well, that is pretty much all I can say about myself at the moment: my love of writing, reading, smiling and devouring dark chocolate like the precious cocoa bean is about to go instinct are still as vibrant and passionate as the days on which I discovered all of them. By the time that I hopefully post another entry here - which could be later today, tomorrow or next year for all I know - I'll have more positive news to share with you, but I really have no idea when that might be. Am I bothered? Not at all.

All good things - from achieving amazing results to growing your hair to a reasonable length (which I suppose mine currently is, but I'd still like it to be much longer - girls always want the opposite of what they have, huh?) - take a while to be gained, and I'm fine with that. Unless that involves waiting for chocolate, which I would always prefer to have at this very moment - still, wouldn't we all?

Tuesday 1 September 2015

For and Against: The End of the Summer Holiday Era

As the days continue to head towards Friday - otherwise known in my world as the official end of summer - I'm sort of trying to come to terms with several things which will almost certainly disappear as soon as I walk through my school's gates in three days' time:

1) No more 'let's-play-on-my-phone-for-half-an-hour-in-order-to-walk-my-half-asleep-self-up' lie-ins which, despite often leaving me more tired than I would usually feel because of staring at an electronic screen (a device that has an ironic way of draining you of energy like excessive usage on a phone sucks all of the battery dry), I will sorely miss. I mean, what is more enjoyable than waking up to images of Kim Kardashian spilling out of her oh-so-tight dress at ten in the morning - this is something that never ever happens during term-time, so I obviously want to make the most of it while it lasts! For, um, another two mornings...

2) To the disgust of my inner fashionista, I will have to return to wearing a horribly clear nail polish from Friday because my school states that coloured nail polish, along with hair dyes, are against the 'rules'. Well, considering that half of my year have dyed their hair at one point (including some of the boys, one of which transformed himself into a Black Sabbath tribute act upon apparently having a 'disaster' with a packet of black hair dye), I find it ridiculous that I can't even wear a subtle, chic and professional-looking pinky nude shade on my nails while others are essentially given permission to emulate the cast members of The Only Way is Essex in their school uniforms. Totally not what I consider to be the concept of fairness!!!

Therefore, I will shed one or two heartfelt tears when I finally take off my gorgeous black nail polish - the very first time that I've ever worn it, which only worsens the psychological agony of having to expose it to the revoltingly scented nail polish remover - because I will have to wait until the October half-term to paint my nails another colour once again. Just why?! Such cruelty is definitely unfair, I must admit; over the course of this summer, I have rediscovered my passion for nail polish, trying favourite colours such as bloodthirsty red and Starbucks-esque taupe browns, in addition to experimenting with gun-metal greys and, currently, gothic blacks. Now that my eyes have been exposed to a Dulux variety of colours, my heart begs to not return to my former existence as a clear-painted girl - life is simply not vibrant without an injection of colour!!!

Just another of life's many injustices!

3) Jeans. Whether dark, stormy blue, baby pink or grunge-inspired grey, I have absolutely loved wearing jeans on pretty much a daily basis over the past six weeks, especially as I have finally broken in my new grey pair after many rather agonising attempts! No longer am I struggling to yank my feet out of the jeans like I was before the summer holidays commenced; personally, I don't think that there is a better feeling than wearing a pair of greatly fitted jeans.

Ah, if only the same could be said about my blazer which, despite fitting significantly better than the one I used to wear at my old school, still has the effect of making me feel like a Year 7: as soon as I place it onto my shoulders, I instantly forget that I'm indeed 16 years old, not a mere eleven year old about to start their first day at the so-called 'terrifying' secondary school.

At least jeans make me feel like I'm my age and, unless I pick up a pair in the wrong size, they fit me perfectly - unless my blazer miraculously shrinks over the course of Year 11, I very much doubt that I will feel any older than a Year 7!

4) Lunch - how will I ever cope with all-day access to the fridge?! I once had to tear myself away from my kitchen's cupboards after ending my seven year stint as a home-schooled student, which was more than painful enough, yet I somewhat feel like I'm having to repeat this over a year on: letting go of what you truly love is never easy, as I'm coming to realise at this very moment.

Even though I'm fortunate to have a packed lunch over the measly-looking school dinners that some of my friends eat (and sometimes don't finish off), eating at school is never the same as it is at home: no amount of persuasive words can change my thoughts otherwise. As a renowned slow eater, I often pressurise myself into eating my lunch ridiculously quickly - which, if you ate at a normal pace, you would probably consider to be a normal pace - so that my friends wouldn't waste half of their lunch time waiting for me to finish my reasonably small roll, let alone my box of raisins and baby cucumbers (which many people mistake for pickles, which I absolutely detest!). As a result, I often feel like I haven't enjoyed my lunch as much as I appreciate the meals I consume at home because giving myself the time to savour every mouthful is important to me: otherwise, I would prefer to have not eaten a thing at all as I don't gain an ounce of pleasure from it.

Wednesday 26 August 2015

What I Love Right Now...

Like any other teen, I find it easier to plunge myself into a new love affair with dainty earrings than get motivated to go over a year's worth of Maths work - why? Obviously, falling head of three inch heels (which I'm keen to increase in height, especially as I've long given up hope of getting taller) over something that I cannot resist liking symbolises fun, which I can never get enough of. If life's biggest issues could revolve around deciding which earrings and necklaces to wear in the morning, undoubtedly I'd have much less to think (and worry) about, but never mind...

In many ways, I'm as unpredictable as the classically wet and wild British summer which, over the past week, has ranged from I-don't-think-that-I-can-bear-another-second-of-this mini heatwave during the previous week to the present I-will-freeze-like-a-refrigerated-Oreo-ice-cream-sandwich-if-I-don't-wear-my-thermals chilliness. Well, maybe you can blame my Britishness - and clearly the bizarre weather that I've grown up with - for the quirks existing in my unique personality, which certainly contribute to my present interests and thoughts. 

Despite my hatred of using the over-used word 'so' to start a sentence (which has brewed like a quietly rampaging volcano since my mum pointed this out to me weeks ago), on this occasion I'll make use of 'so' because I cannot be bothered to think of another word. As the clock hasn't even struck eleven in the morning yet as I write this, please excuse my frazzled, if not slightly tired brain for a lack of original words - I guess that you've found out my oh-so-terrible secret about definitely not being a morning person!

So, what I do love with all my heart (and everything else within me) at this very moment? 

1. George (not the prince, but close enough)

In life, we meet many people of all ages, genders, personalities and sizes - despite the saying, the world isn't quite as small as we are led to believe. Yet, how many people would you consider to be your nearest and dearest, representing much more than an excuse to gorge on creamy frappes from Starbucks on a chilly November afternoon? 

Well, I'm glad to declare that George, one of my four cats, is included in this exclusive group, whom I love like one worships the now-fallen One Direction - seriously, my affection for George would be on a par with an eight year old's obsession with Harry Style's curly mop that is supposedly considered to be 'hair'. Yeah, I'm not so sure about that...

Anyway, George is very special to me because, from the moment that he arrived home nearly a year ago, he has always been tremendously loving. No kidding - like a star, George glimmers with affection, which makes his eyes, pretty much the only feature of his that I can see in semi-darkness, dazzle like diamonds in the sky. And, in case you were wondering, he certainly shines bright like a diamond because he possesses the most charming personality, which never fails to cheer me up. 

For example, George has spent the majority of this morning stalking me. Even though I have a tendency to over-exaggerate my points and get a little carried away with my words (one of the countless joys of blogging, believe me), I'm not joking: if George figured out how to use a Pritt stick, you can guarantee that he would have glued himself to my leg by now! 

Whether I'm working out in the living room or checking the latest uploads on Facebook, George has to be by my side... which has become more than slightly embarrassing whenever I visit my en-suite, which he incidentally believes is his private space too. Delightful! Since entering my en-suite, I've realised that he must never go near my bin. Why? On several occasions, I've returned to my room to find George chewing cotton wool buds that I've used to clean my ears and clear off excessive eye make-up - and I SWEAR that he has eaten at least one cotton wool bud because I once never found the other half to one that he had been chewing with eager delight. That is just unfair... I spent the rest of that day worrying that George would have to go to the vet (and all dreams of my Year 11 prom paid for next year going up in flames)! 

Even though he is mischievous, naughty and sometimes way too clingy for my liking (even I need some kitty-free time!), I still love George,  who is always the best pick-me-up. Hopefully, his mood-enhancing powers will further strengthen as I prepare to go through a busy, challenging and hard-working year - that's the power of friendship!

Saying that, I still haven't forgiven George for getting his ridiculously long (and dangerously sharp) claws stuck in my favourite jeans yet...


The boy himself - distracting me from Science revision...

2. Honeymoon 

If you haven't gotten around to hearing Lana Del Rey's latest single, High by the Beach, you must be high on something very bad - because it is a crime to not listen to Lana!!! Like a goddess, her music is enchanting, powerful and undoubtedly beautiful; whenever I hear the first few seconds of Born to Die or the violins which define the mighty Ride, I'm locked in a trance, desperate to pay attention to every single note, beat and words that flow from Lana's mouth. 

Therefore, you can only begin to visualise my elation upon finding out that Lana's third major release, the delightfully titled Honeymoon, will be released worldwide next month, which I'll certainly be snapping up as soon as possible. A song as hypnotic and catchy as High by the Beach, which I can only describe as being steamy without too much heat, fiery without burning in a pool of hot lava and catchy without driving you around the bend like Uptown Funk when it is played on the radio for the fifth time within an hour, holds great promise for the rest of Honeymoon

Even though the set-up to the title track itself, Honeymoon, is completely different to the trip hop-influenced High by the Beach, I nonetheless love it, which proves that Lana's versatility can still be enjoyed by all - thanks to her, I've been introduced to different music genres, such as psychedelic pop and rock, dream pop and blue-eyed soul, which couldn't necessarily be said about many mainstream artists in the music industry. 

Hey, I could write forever about Lana, but her music truly says it all - have a listen to High by the Beach and Honeymoon below. And, in case you were wondering, I was initially confused by HBTB's music video, so you're not the only one...







Thursday 20 August 2015

My Future is a Year Away...

As hundreds of thousands of teenagers pick up their GCSE results today - hopefully receiving the brilliant results that they have worked tremendously hard to deserve - I cannot stop myself from thinking about how I will be among the next lot of adolescents receiving the oh-so-important grades that will stay with me for a lifetime. 

Unsurprisingly, I'm somewhat already imagining my reaction when I finally get my hands onto the envelope listing my name, containing a piece of paper as precious as a diamond ring: whatever is hidden inside represents an insight into my choices and, ultimately, my future. Kinda hard not to feel a bit nervous about the whole thing, right? Still, I'm nonetheless excited about the fact that, by this time next year, my life will finally be GCSE-free, unless I manage to mess up big time in Maths or English, which would require as many re-sits as needed until I achieve the preferred 'C' grade - otherwise known as a pass. 

Anyway, GCSE results day usually symbolises the beginning of an end of the summer holidays because there is only really one whole week left until school is once again within sight (albeit a bit blurry without wearing my vision-enhancing glasses). In many ways, I'm relieved that school is almost on the verge of beginning because a fire, as heated and fierce as red-hot anger, is still burning intently, keen to leap through the many barriers until I've completed every single exam - my ultimate goal of 2016! 

At this very moment, I can feel this impatience burning inside of me to start Year 11 and reach the finishing line because I'm as motivated as ever: a quality which will hopefully keep me sane over the next ten months. Even though the summer holidays are only about six weeks long, I just feel as though I could have been getting on with Year 11 work, though trying to do this at home is so difficult because your teachers can't give you advice in your bedroom. Nevertheless, no words can truly describe my relief in having not lost a single ounce of motivation over the holidays - a possibility for anyone. yet a horrendous occurrence anyway. 

Luckily, my school doesn't begin the new term until literally the end of the week after next, ironically opening on a Friday for all pupils apart from Year 7s (the youngest and newest members, who I often pity because adjusting to secondary school life is significantly harder when so young) and sixth formers, who return a day earlier. How delightful to think that, after receiving my GCSE results in a years' time, I will have to face sixth form twenty four hours sooner than the GCSE students - one less cherished lie-in for me! Well, I'll probably spend the whole of next summer (all thirteen weeks of it thanks to finishing school by mid-June) consoling myself on that dreadful fact...

Still, I think that coming back on a Friday is ridiculous because, for starters, some people might adopt the attitude that returning for a single day before the weekend is pointless, believing their time can be better spent on the likes of Netflix or Xbox instead. Although I think that bunking off the first day of the new year is extremely childish, I wouldn't put this past some idiots, who would cling to the summer holidays like a monkey hangs off a branch. Really, if everyone else can be bothered to spend their Fridays in a classroom instead of going into Subway, making the effort to turn up is not that hard - in comparison to sitting exams, which are luckily several months away from now! 

Despite nursing the urge to return to school, I'm unable to swallow the small flavour of sadness at the prospect of giving up my lie-ins, which I've often taken for granted because they have seemed so unlimited and infinite. Honestly, within a week or two of being away from following your usual routine, you forget that school ever existed: although I wouldn't exactly want that to become a reality, I'd be over the moon if lie-ins could become a part of my typical day-to-day routine during term time! 

Additionally, I've appreciated having time away from studies because I've been able to focus on hanging out with my friends, doing things for myself and indulging in treats (not food-related ones, if that's what you thought I meant!) that I often don't feel like enjoying during school time, such as listening to music, going for walks and watching TV (particularly True Blood, which I've been binge-watching for about a week). As a result, I'm now fully committed to ensuring that, along with revising and studying, I will reserve time to relax because, despite my fantasies of being the 2015 equivalent to Superwoman, I'm not an exam machine: happiness can be obtained from many other things asides from learning! Though figuring out the perfect balance between work and play presenting several issues as I honestly have no idea as to how to achieve it, making an effort to be fair to myself in all aspects is nonetheless important. And, whether I forget it or not, Year 11 doesn't last forever - hence why it's called a year, not years! Obviously. 

The future is still far away because a year takes a long time to complete, but I'm excited to be putting in the finishing touches to what should be a beautiful and pretty ending. No, no, I'm not talking about a cake, even though all results day receivers deserve a slice of crumbly, creamy and comforting happiness. In fact, I've done most of the hard work - the preparation and baking of the sponge - yet now I need to focus on perfecting the icing, which protects the sponge underneath it. As long as it tastes delicious and looks fine, I'll be happy - knowing that I've tried my hardest to achieve a cake worthy of being praised on the Great British Bake-Off. Oh, if only exams could be more similar to cookery shows...


Saturday 15 August 2015

Meeting Up and Hanging Out

On the off-chance that you might have been curious as to where I've been for the past few days, you needn't think that I was residing on a remote island which is located even more in the boring land of 'the middle-of-nowhere' than where I usually live, without barely a trace of Wifi connection. If such a thing ever became a possibility, you can pretty guarantee that I would never let go of the router which provides my absolute treasure: internet connection. Therefore, I'm unlikely to go very far...

In fact, I've actually been heading into the nearby town on two separate occasions to meet up with my friends, who I haven't seen since we broke up for the summer holidays about a month ago (yikes!). Since getting my head together (in other words, ensuring that my life consists of more than browsing through Facebook every two hours) and begrudging that the boredom which typically defines the month of August, I'm actually quite stunned that there are only two more proper full weeks of summer until school edges closer and closer in sight.

Despite wishing to return to 'normal', in the sense that I would once again appreciate hours of having the downstairs television all to myself, I cannot believe that Year 11 will be commencing in twenty days - no matter what I've said before, I'm not ready!!! For instance, I promised myself to go over my Maths work over the summer, but the nearest that I've gotten to it is using the calculator on my friend's smartphone whilst determining how much change to give back when I was working as Front of House for a school production a fortnight ago. Still, my memory can't be that bad if I can remember how Pythagoras' Theorem works, though please don't bombard me with questions about Sin, Cos and Tan - just praise me for bothering to remember their titles, let alone the way in which you use them!

Anyway, I shall be making the most of these precious few lie-ins in addition to going over various things, such as the books I've read in English, and quizzing myself on various theories related to Sociology, one of my favourite subjects which I'd love to study at sixth form. Even though I've realised that revising at home doesn't work particularly well with me because the hard-working atmosphere is at its strongest at school, I'm still trying because I like having something meaningful to do with my spare time; despite the agony that it presents for my poor heart, studying algebraic equations is far more appealing than complaining about not having Netflix for the hundredth time in a week.

As this blog follows the life of a modern teenager, it only seems fitting for me to discuss what actually happens in my life - such as catching up with my friends after not seeing them in what felt like forever! The first friend that I saw was a boy whom I'd gotten to know rather well after spending the day with him on a rewards trip at the end of last term; despite having occasionally spoken to one another beforehand, I felt like I could speak to him without worrying about being misunderstood. Like a light being switched on, it occurred to me at one point or another that the boy, who I'll refer to as James (as you can possibly tell, I'm useless with boys' names - the only one I can currently think of is a evil vampire from Twilight), was someone that I wanted to become friends with.

Considering that I usually regard myself as quite shy and find it initially hard to open up with others, I didn't have any obstacles to leap over in order to speak freely with James - and, as the summer holidays were only around the corner, I was keen to carry on the conversation that we had begun on that day, this time without being intruded by our classmates.

As my village literally consists of one shop and two okay-ish pubs, I figured that going into town was the best place to meet up - despite the lack of interesting shops and activities, there was much more to do and see, which was far more appealing to me. Where did James and I go? For lunch, Subway was the place of choice; despite never being overly keen on what I consider to be 'fast-food' outlets, I actually don't mind Subway because I can purchase wholemeal bread before filling it with low-fat meats such as turkey or chicken breast and plenty of salad, which would keep me full for hours. It was also quite cheap as well, which is always a bonus factor because I'd rather keep my spending to a minimum whilst eating out so that I have more money to spend on clothes and make-up!

However, I was so taken aback by James' generosity: instead of letting me pay for my lunch, he paid for it himself. What a gentleman!!! No matter how much I assured him about wanting to pay myself, he was so insistent. Never before in my life had anyone, apart from my parents, paid for anything like that for me, which made me realise even more what a fantastic person he is.

For the rest of the afternoon, we mostly walked around town, catching sight of a few familiar faces whilst strolling along on the pavements, talking about various interests, passions and beliefs. Really, I couldn't ask for anything more in anyone - having someone to talk to about practically anything is all I honestly need to be happy. Then we hung out at his house for a while, watching an episode of the hilarious Bad Education (which I seriously need to watch on my brother's Xbox ASAP, if I figure out how to use the console) and just talking, which is more precious to me than visiting numerous places.

By the end of the day, which had resulted in my missing the bus home because I was too happy to realise that I needed to stick my hand out to alert the bus driver to let me on (though half an hour later I caught the bus with my dad, who wasn't thrilled over having to speed-walk into town), I felt as though I'd truly made a friend, who would watch out for me and always demonstrate the greatest of manners that you could ever hope to see. Although nothing has yet been planned, I'd love to invite him over to my house before the holidays end, especially as my parents already like him (any guy who pays for their daughter's lunch is marked very high in their books).

Although people have a tendency to think that all relationships between girls and boys are romantic, there are not necessarily so because, in order for a relationship to survive, there must be a bond - otherwise, if the romantic feelings cease to exist, there is no foundation stopping the relationship from shattering into tiny, sharp and broken pieces. As to whether I want a relationship right now, I honestly don't know, but I'm strong believer in taking some things as they come - not all ideas should be dismissed until you know the full story!

On another topic, I caught up with one of (female) friends on Thursday afternoon, where we visited Subway (seemingly a popular choice of place for teens), and strolled around town, not particularly looking for anywhere to go; once again, we were more interested in speaking to one another than paying attention to where we were! In the end, though, we decided to visit one of our friend's house, which is ironically a five minute walk from our school (albeit she nonetheless gets a lift in the morning!), because we had run out of things to do. Also, the weather was not predicted to be all-too-good as rain was in the air, so I was keen to avoid being caught out in a heavy shower; to this day, I still haven't gotten my hands on a waterproof mascara!

Whilst at my friend's house, we sat around the TV - well, we tried to without my friend's dogs leaping onto all of us, eager for attention - and watched two episodes of Rupaul's Drag Race, which is definitely a reason why I need to sign up to Netflix: it was so entertaining! To a certain extent, the contestants knew more about make-up than me and even wore a few lipsticks which I'd love to have... need I say more?

Despite being less 'intimate' than my day out with James, seeing my two friends again was really nice because hanging out together at school isn't always easy as I often have duties or am in different classes. And, rather unsurprisingly, both of them were very interested in how my day went with James, though I don't think that any words could capture the excitement which surrounded that day.

Now that marks today's tale of leading life as a modern teen. If you really wanted to know (which is unsurprisingly as trends change all the time), we simply text one another, asking if we fancy meeting up - unlike some people, I prefer texting to messaging on Facebook because I feel as though it is more discreet and private, an asset which I never fail to appreciate. Unless we're in cities, we don't tend to go very far, though if we do, it is mostly just to talk - nothing more I can say, really!

Here's to meeting up once again. hopefully pretty soon...


Sunday 9 August 2015

The Relentless Hassles of Being A Girl

Over the course of my sixteen years on this planet, several things have knocked me off my apparently average-sized feet: one of which includes the problems that are expected with being a girl. Obviously, both genders have their drawbacks - otherwise we wouldn't be able to recognise the benefits, would we? - but, in a way, I've always felt that the negatives of being a girl are more pronounced than the ones possibly experienced by boys because so many of these hassles are visual - a.k.a. your eyes cannot ignore seeing imperfections! Well, I was sort of hoping that my short-sightedness might have eased the pains sometimes endured by living in a female body, but I would have to be asleep all the time if I were to pay no attention to problems; in some ways, I think that I might have a sixth sense for trouble! A perfect example of a female-related hassle...

In my opinion, I feel that the reason why girls have a harder time with their gender is because society has painted all-perfect image of the fairer sex which we are pressurised into living up to. For example, does anyone take much notice if a man is caught wearing sloppy tracksuit bottoms and an ancient, tatty t-shirt outside? Not really. Unlike women, men don't feel as though they need to be clad in glamourous clothing all the time because glamour is not a term constantly associated with their gender; we, including women, often expect them to be dressed casually, which we absent-mindedly believe is a representation of their sex because things have always been that way.

However, women are more likely to be criticised - mostly by fellow women - for adopting a casual look because it is instilled in our minds to reject 'scruffy' appearances because it doesn't symbolise the beauty which women are usually renowned for. Even for me, when I visualise what a women looks like, the first few ideas which pop into my head are smart clothing - e.g. dresses - and immaculate make-up - e.g. foundation which mostly definitely not dripping down your face in tropical weather. Sounds stereotypical, doesn't it? Well, I apologise my thinking, yet such images have literally been forced down my throat from early ages - magazines, TV and even dolls have influenced my views. I suppose that it isn't surprising that toys can be highly influential because even my Bratz dolls wre never bare-faced, regardless of whether they were glamming it up in a dress or dressing down in fitness wear - hardly promoting an inspirational message of being true to yourself!

Still, my entry today is not entirely based on living up it up as a glamourpuss (a word which I wish that I could use more often, if not only for describing myself!), though beauty does play a major role in winding me up on a daily basis. Oh, I've lost count over the amount of times that I've suffered for the sake of looking good; as life expectancy further increases, my biggest fear is that I have many years yet of crippling myself in ridiculously high heels, applying way too much make-up on my face and plastering on a Hollywood-style smile whilst resisting the urge to scream in agony. Most certainly my kind of joy...

Bras

Boys, you really don't know how lucky you are to not be condemned to a lifetime of wearing itchy, heavy and uncomfortable garments so that what is essentially two Cornetto-shaped bits of fat don't slap you in the face when you try to run up the stairs! And that's without even considering the horrors that occur during the dreaded time of the month.

Despite being fortunate in being relatively small-chested, which is a massive relief when considering that the average bra size in the UK is now 36D, there are occasions when I wonder whether I'm carrying a pair of weights on my chest. Hence why I refuse to participate in a marathon bigger than climbing the stairs as everything goes out of control!

In addition to this, finding the right bra for you is an absolute pain in the you-know-what. If you want to wear something attractive, only padded bras provide it with different patterns and prints (including my oh-so-beloved leopard print), yet these aren't exactly the most practical choice when running on a treadmill - unfortunately, I've learnt the painful lesson of putting practicality over beauty unless being practical is unneeded.

As for push-up bras, they are identical to padded ones but are even more padded - in a way, they feel more comfortable than a mattress! Yet the labels on these bras aren't always clear, which is why I often pick up a bra, thinking that it is the one of my dreams (because it isn't in the dreaded dull-as-dishwater white colour), before I think that it is more padded than a cushion.

And, if you thought that the internet had taken away the needless hassle of going into a store and waiting in a queue to be served for hours, you will soon realise that shopping in-store is the only way that you stand any chance of picking up a decently fitted bra. Yes, it is absolutely irritating when you stroll down the lingerie section for the fourth time in two minutes, close to tears because you don't know what suits you, but the fit is what matters - unless pain or no support is your idea of fun!

Shoes

Depending on your height and shoe size, looking for shoes can be an agonising search because there are so many things which you need to take into consideration: do you seek comfort, style or a mixture of both? Also, you must consider if you want your shoes to stand out, be formal or look so casual that you could wear them wherever you go - thinking about all of these things can drive you crazy if you aren't sure as to what you want!

Therefore, heading into a shoe shop without considering any of these points is an unwise idea because you could leave with a new pair of trainers, heels, flats or boots that don't necessarily cater to your needs, along with emptying your purse. Like eating before wandering into a food-packed supermarket, you ought to ensure that you are in a stable state of mind before even looking at shoes in a shop's window - lust can have a crazy way of forcing you into getting things that you don't really need!

As I'm relatively petite (5ft 4in if you really want to know), trainers aren't really my favourite footwear because I dislike feeling short, which often leads me into wearing heels or shoes with a bit of a heel on them. Is it because I'm vain? Not at all as wearing flats places unnecessary pressure on my feet as I have quite a high instep, so I'm never going to have feet cut out for the likes of sandals, flip-flops and Converse. However, wearing flats might be more suitable for taller girls, yet getting it right with style and comfort need to be on your mind when making a purchase - the same of which also applies to heels, my preferred type of shoe.

One dilemma of mine is casual wear which, for many teenagers my age, involves being clad in pumps or trainers - shoes that I not only dislike but cannot wear without making my feet ache like mad. Still, I would look like an absolute idiot if I wore black leather three inch heels while all of my friends, even ones shorter than me, wore trainers and pumps - and, when wearing a t-shirt and jeans, high heels just don't look right on me!

This is why I pay much more attention to my clothes than shoes because footwear causes much more of a headache; besides, the first thing that I see when I look at people is their clothes, not giving the slightest thought to what they are wearing on their feet. Even though I appreciate the beauty of shoes, I highly value comfort as well - but where does the line end?