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?

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.