Sunday 10 February 2013
Smile Like You Mean It
As part of my delightful job, I have to smile. I have to smile a lot. This is something I have got very good at. Naturally I am an extremely perky person - smile all the time, always laughing heartily at everything and always have a song to sing.
Many a customer has come to me, especially on early shifts, and asked me how it is possible to be so happy all the time. I answer them honestly: "This? Oh, I'm always like this! I don't think I know how not to smile!" My overall attitude towards life has made me forget something that contributed to the person I am today. The catty, doesn't-take-shit-from-anyone attitude that you guys know and love (pfft).
People insult me and I bat it off. I'm always quick to defend other people. I don't particularly care what people think of me - if they want to think badly of them, let them. Oh, thankfully how much I changed.
I was bullied. Badly.
I was a chubby kid. A lot. Dorky and awkward; I always hung out with the boys more than the girls. I was 'fatty' or 'chubs'. I would run crying to my mother and each time she would tell me to ignore their taunts. Up until the age of 9 I tried, but each time they pointed out how big I was I would cry some more. It was pathetic. I would try and say something back, but it made them laugh harder, which made my ears burn more.
Unfortunately, when I was 9, I started puberty and got boobs and semi-hips. That was just more fodder for their insult cannon. I became not only 'fatty', but 'freak'. My weight had also stayed the same, which sucked, let's face it. I was chubby and growing up way faster than everyone else.
It didn't help that I moved around a lot when I was younger, and ended up in 3 different primary schools. The second school, I remember clearly. My parents had just divorced and so we ended up moving to a very rough area, an area that I now know to be an example used in the broken window theory of crime. The area bred criminals and delinquents and we came under fire.
At this point, I was still as dorky and awkward as ever, picked on again because of my weight and boobs, but now also because I was a lot smarter than the other kids. I once wrote a 20 page story set in Victorian England that my teacher loved. One of the boys in my class got hold of it and set it on fire on the field behind my house.
My younger brother had also been at school for a few years at this point and we both came under the fire, quite literally, from one boy. He would follow us home from school, taunting us. Knock on our door and run away. The police got involved when he threatened us with his brother's BB gun. Our German Shepherd dog bit him when he got in to our house one day. He had great pleasure taunting me with the fact that we'd had to have the dog put to sleep because of it.
We moved away, and even in my last school I was singled out for being chubby and smart. I couldn't wait to get to high school! I was set to go to an all girls grammar school. I could finally get away from the boys! The girls never really taunted me.
Ha. High school was hell. At first, it was fun! No one singled me out. One day I said something wrong to a girl and it was game over. She would wait inside my classroom and when she saw me coming, she would lock the door. It was embarrassing, and something I blocked out until very recently. No one in my class would come and unlock the door, no matter how hard I would bang on it and shout. They knew I was out there, but no one would help me. Then my friends started saying that they didn't want to be my friends any more - they were scared of the other girl and didn't want her to do things to them as well. I was totally alone. She's throw things at my head during lessons and the teachers wouldn't believe me. She went to them saying that I was bullying her, and they believed her because I was so much bigger than her. All of my friends started hanging out with her. I would drift around alone during lunch, often spending my entire time in the library trying to escape. Girls I hadn't even spoken to much in my class started to ignore me whenever I tried. There were a few that I would hang out with, but eventually they would tire of me too and ignore me. If I got invited to town or to the cinema I would get so excited - no one ever wanted to hang around with me! It was cruel though - they would tell me the wrong times for the films, and I would arrive as they were leaving. They'd say they weren't coming in to town after I'd already got there. If I walked past a group of them, they would laugh and snigger. I was always looking over my shoulder.
It spread to my bus journeys and walks to school - it had spread to the boys that went to the boys grammar school, and soon I was having gum put in my hair, my bag being stolen and hidden and sometimes not letting me get on to the bus. One time, I accidentally walked in to one of the girls they knew at a rival school as I was walking to the bus and they followed me to the crowded bus station. There, in front of about 100 or so adults and various members of the public, I remember several bus drivers and even a police officer, one girl ripped in to me. I held my ground, not saying anything, just letting her finish, but the entire time her friends were behind me, spitting in my hair and shoving me. It was only once I'd been shoved to the grown and my mum came running over that they stopped. I've never forgotten that an entire bus station of people stood and witnessed me be completely humiliated for doing nothing. I had to walk around for 4 hours, covered in phlegm and mucus all over my hair and clothes, while they followed me and taunted me. Even my mother being there didn't stop them.
My mother tried so hard to help, but I kept most of it hidden from her. I was ashamed that even after all this time and my experiences during primary school, I still didn't fit in. I took up drama lessons and acting. I wanted to become the characters. I could escape in the plays and become someone I wanted to be. I hated who I actually was - a dumpy, lonely, odd girl without a friend in the world. I was terrifically shy: after the incident at the bus station I didn't even talk to adults any more. I was frightened of everyone. I knew that they would find something to laugh about. I'd screw up and annoy them too. I wouldn't speak up in class if I knew the answer and began hiding in empty classrooms as the bullying became worse and worse.
I was terrified of school. I would wake up and immediately vomit at the thought of going there. I began to binge on junk food in an attempt to make myself feel better. Of course, I put on more weight and that in turn caused even more taunts on the bus. I couldn't sleep and I had constant headaches. My grades began to suffer and I started running away at lunch times, always returning for the lessons. I would fake illness to attempt to be kept off school and started running in front of cars. I stopped caring. I stopped smiling. I frightened my mother: she said she couldn't remember a time when I was happy or smiling. It was only when a teacher asked me about the scratches that had started to appear on my arms and on my legs during P.E. that something was done about it. I found out what it was that had upset the girl, and with counselling from our teachers, we slowly began to mend our friendship.
I stopped being locked out of the classroom. I had the door opened for me. People started talking to me again. People cared what I had to say. People would laugh at me, but this time it would be because of a joke or an impression I had done. I came out of my shell - I made friends! Friends who loved me for being a little bit different. Friends who were as silly as me. Friends who would make plans with me and we would go together. I started sleeping over at houses. I started laughing again. I started smiling again.
From then on, I became this totally new person. I was loud and proud! My laugh became big and booming - I would cackle for hours on end, others stopping their laughter at the original joke and instead laughing at how long I could laugh. I smiled all the time and started loving myself. Suddenly, I didn't care what people thought about me - people could stare at me and giggle or sneer all they wanted, I didn't care. I started to fight back. I became quite witty and always had a comeback for everything. My grades began to pick up again and I stopped doing the stupid or dangerous things I had started to take up.
Ever since then, I have relished not fitting in - yeah, I'm different and a little bit weird, but so what? I'm me, and I'm happy. The woman that you know today is a result of years of feeling alone and isolated, depressed and different and being ripped to shreds by others. In a sense I'm glad that it all happened to me. I doubt that I would be as loud and happy as I am today had I not first been extremely quiet and sad.
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that time is the best healer. Yeah, things are pretty shit at the moment, but things can only get better! The bad times and things that screw us over in the past are our lessons. Learn from the past. Grow as a person, not just physically, but mentally. It is only once you get older that you realise that it isn't your fault that you're different. Relish the differences that set you apart from the others - you are unique! Embrace it! Everyone is different and everyone has their insecurities, so don't let them get in the way of you being YOU! Being at the bottom brings the drive to rise to the top! And forgive - there is nothing to be gained from holding grudges (coming from a woman who holds the biggest grudge in the world against her own father, but leave it). What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
I know these are all cliches, but they're kinda true. No matter how alone you feel, there will always be someone there for you. Learn from the past and move on - the past readies us for what tomorrow brings. So, go out there and kick tomorrows ass!
Tuesday 24 April 2012
As Lost As Atlantis
And no, the title is not referencing my confusion as to how to work the new look blogger.com when I first logged on again. Not in the slightest. Seriously though, this new manner of posting is bloody awful. It looks like I'm posting on Turnitin (God forbid).
As I have perhaps mentioned in the past, I have as much homing instinct as a cemented brick i.e. I'd much rather stay in my current location, as I will get lost without even trying. So imagine my absolute horror when I found that I had to drive to a football stadium in Nottingham, one of two of the damn things, to do training things and the like for work. Many people asked me if I had a sat nav, which of course the answer is 'LOL no'. Of course I don't have one, I'm a student of limited means, and so I naturally spend all of my money on hand-held games consoles and games, I mean Updating my phone contract for a new model, I mean DVDs, er, I mean Books, um, tattoos? Piercings? *TWACK* FOOD AND RENT! "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be sign posted and extremely easy to find!" <--- The famous last words spoken to me before I set off. Last words because I will be mercilessly slaughtering all those who said that ill-chosen phrase to me.
Pour Quoi? It was not sign posted. At all. Nya da. Eja. Nein. Non. No. Thankfully, due to my deeply-rooted fear of being even 5 minutes late (so rooted due to as a child almost always being terminally late for absolutely everything due to the general dithering about of my mothers children i.e. mainly me being an annoying arse.) I set off for a 40 minute journey at half 7 with about an hour and a half in my back pocket. To cut a long story slightly shorter, thank FUCK I did as not only was the traffic bordering on a gathering-of-lemmings-committing-suicide-proportions, but I got lost. A lot. About 3 times. It's absolutely blissful to ask a passer by for directions only for them to tell you that you're going in exactly the wrong direction. I'd like to say I was smiling to him as he directed me, but methinks I was merely grinding my teeth down in to stumps instead. And trying not to bark in his face or chew on my seatbelt in sheer frustration. Clearly I was that stressed that I actually changed species.
I do tell a slight lie about the stadium not being sign posted. There were signs for it... WHEN I WAS PULLED UP NEXT TO IT! Oh, how I wish I was joking... There are actually no signs on the roads in Nottingham at all, come to think of it. You have to have fun playing the game of 'Guess Where The Fuck You Are!' After finally arriving and managing to dislodge my feet from their almost permanent clawed positions from being folded over the break and clutch respectively, I very nearly kissed the ground in delight, before remembering that I was in public and that it would be slightly weird. As well as gross. Also found out that I was one of the first people there, so I would have had time to bugger off to find a McDonalds to nom some noms. The factor of being first annoyed me even more when I was informed by a tiddly but ever so bossy woman with a clipboard mistaking me for a groundsman that it was highly unlikely that lunch would be provided during the day. I very nearly used her clipboard to dislodge her head in order to devour it then and there.
People eventually began to arrive, filtering in with cries of "Oh, my sat nav sent me through the one way system!" which I almost responded to with my fist - at least you guys had a sat nav! I had nothing to blame for my getting lost other than my own innate stupidity! An enquiry of "Leah, would you like to start with your maths test?" was met with me putting my brown trousers on. No. No I bloody wouldn't. I'd rather French kiss my dog than do my maths test. The maths test which I eventually completed and on which I scored better than on my English test. Yeah, I don't know how that happened either. Although it is pretty embarrassing when you laugh out loud and at full volume during a very silent test due to a question asking "What does 'dress the salad to taste' mean?" giving the option of "Wear your favourite outfit when preparing and serving the salad."
Despite the fact that in the course of the day, in which I spent 8 hours, I drank no less than 21 cups of tea (which I often take black with no sugar, for some interesting little trivia there. Er...) I had the unfortunate task of removing myself from my nest of pillows and blankets and giant cuddly toys and Lord Knows what else is on my bed... I dunno, there's more than likely a book and a games console in here with me somewhere... Where the hell was I? Yeah, I had to get up in order to raid my fridge and consume almost 2 litres of juice.
Today was also the day I yet again slipped over in public while attempting to storm out of somewhere in an extreme hurry. Methinks I should get rid of ye olde slippery boots.
As I have perhaps mentioned in the past, I have as much homing instinct as a cemented brick i.e. I'd much rather stay in my current location, as I will get lost without even trying. So imagine my absolute horror when I found that I had to drive to a football stadium in Nottingham, one of two of the damn things, to do training things and the like for work. Many people asked me if I had a sat nav, which of course the answer is 'LOL no'. Of course I don't have one, I'm a student of limited means, and so I naturally spend all of my money on hand-held games consoles and games, I mean Updating my phone contract for a new model, I mean DVDs, er, I mean Books, um, tattoos? Piercings? *TWACK* FOOD AND RENT! "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be sign posted and extremely easy to find!" <--- The famous last words spoken to me before I set off. Last words because I will be mercilessly slaughtering all those who said that ill-chosen phrase to me.
Pour Quoi? It was not sign posted. At all. Nya da. Eja. Nein. Non. No. Thankfully, due to my deeply-rooted fear of being even 5 minutes late (so rooted due to as a child almost always being terminally late for absolutely everything due to the general dithering about of my mothers children i.e. mainly me being an annoying arse.) I set off for a 40 minute journey at half 7 with about an hour and a half in my back pocket. To cut a long story slightly shorter, thank FUCK I did as not only was the traffic bordering on a gathering-of-lemmings-committing-suicide-proportions, but I got lost. A lot. About 3 times. It's absolutely blissful to ask a passer by for directions only for them to tell you that you're going in exactly the wrong direction. I'd like to say I was smiling to him as he directed me, but methinks I was merely grinding my teeth down in to stumps instead. And trying not to bark in his face or chew on my seatbelt in sheer frustration. Clearly I was that stressed that I actually changed species.
I do tell a slight lie about the stadium not being sign posted. There were signs for it... WHEN I WAS PULLED UP NEXT TO IT! Oh, how I wish I was joking... There are actually no signs on the roads in Nottingham at all, come to think of it. You have to have fun playing the game of 'Guess Where The Fuck You Are!' After finally arriving and managing to dislodge my feet from their almost permanent clawed positions from being folded over the break and clutch respectively, I very nearly kissed the ground in delight, before remembering that I was in public and that it would be slightly weird. As well as gross. Also found out that I was one of the first people there, so I would have had time to bugger off to find a McDonalds to nom some noms. The factor of being first annoyed me even more when I was informed by a tiddly but ever so bossy woman with a clipboard mistaking me for a groundsman that it was highly unlikely that lunch would be provided during the day. I very nearly used her clipboard to dislodge her head in order to devour it then and there.
People eventually began to arrive, filtering in with cries of "Oh, my sat nav sent me through the one way system!" which I almost responded to with my fist - at least you guys had a sat nav! I had nothing to blame for my getting lost other than my own innate stupidity! An enquiry of "Leah, would you like to start with your maths test?" was met with me putting my brown trousers on. No. No I bloody wouldn't. I'd rather French kiss my dog than do my maths test. The maths test which I eventually completed and on which I scored better than on my English test. Yeah, I don't know how that happened either. Although it is pretty embarrassing when you laugh out loud and at full volume during a very silent test due to a question asking "What does 'dress the salad to taste' mean?" giving the option of "Wear your favourite outfit when preparing and serving the salad."
Despite the fact that in the course of the day, in which I spent 8 hours, I drank no less than 21 cups of tea (which I often take black with no sugar, for some interesting little trivia there. Er...) I had the unfortunate task of removing myself from my nest of pillows and blankets and giant cuddly toys and Lord Knows what else is on my bed... I dunno, there's more than likely a book and a games console in here with me somewhere... Where the hell was I? Yeah, I had to get up in order to raid my fridge and consume almost 2 litres of juice.
Today was also the day I yet again slipped over in public while attempting to storm out of somewhere in an extreme hurry. Methinks I should get rid of ye olde slippery boots.
Monday 2 April 2012
Sad. Act.
I'm not really sure as to the purpose of this post... Maybe I'm bragging, maybe I'm just trying to prove just how sad of an act I really am. Whatever I'm doing, this is mainly for my own documentation needs, but I thought I'd share it anyways! ^_____^
I spent some time tonight looking on Deviant Art at people's anime/manga/Final Fantasy collections and... Er... I have so much more stuff than them it's not even funny. It's actually quite terrifying. My entire collection is worth so much money. What have I got? Well...
Anime/Manga stuff:
This is DVDs and books, as well as collectables etc. relating to the anime and manga.
Manga volumes (books)
Bleach 1-38
Black Bird 1-12
Black Butler 1-8
Deathnote (Complete!) 1-13
Fairy Tail 1-15
Full Metal Alchemist (Complete!) 1-27
Fruits Basket (Complete!) 1-28
Fushigi Yugi (Complete!) 1-18
Fushigi Yugi Genbu Kaiden 1-9 (series discontinued! :'( )
Life 1-4
Anime (DVDs)
Bleach 1-5
Bleach movies 1&2
Elfen Leid (Complete Boxset)
Fullmetal Alchemist (Complete Boxset)
Fullmetal Alchemist Movie
Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood (Complete Boxset)
Hellsing (Complete Boxset)
Hellsing Ultimate 1-4
Fruits Basket (Complete Boxset)
School Days (Complete Boxset)
The Wallflower (Complete Boxset)
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
Laputa Castle in the Sky
My Neighbour Totoro
Grave of the Fireflies
Kiki's Delivery Service
Pom Poko
Whisper of the Heart
Princess Mononoke
Spirited Away
The Cat Returns
Howl's Moving Castle
Tales from Earthsea
Ponyo
Arriety
Pokemon the First Movie
Pokemon 4ever
Collectables:
Bleach colour fact book
Bleach Art book
Fullmetal Alchemist art book volume 2
Fruits Basket tattoo, sticker and fact book
Bleach 'Kon' plush
Bleach badges x 5
Bleach posters x 7
Fullmetal Alchemist posters x 3
Now on to the good stuff: Final Fantasy. I've been a fan of this series since I was about 10, so I've had a good 10 years to collect this stuff!
Games:
Final Fantasy Origins - Final Fantasy 1 & 2
Final Fantasy 3
Final Fantasy 4
Final Fantasy 4 the Complete Collection - Final Fantasy 4, Interlude and 4: The After years
Final Fantasy Anthology - Final Fantasy 4 & 5
Final Fantasy 6
Final Fantasy 7
Final Fantasy 8
Final Fantasy 9
Final Fantasy 10
Final Fantasy 10-2
Final Fantasy 12
Final Fantasy 7: Dirge of Cerberus
Final Fantasy 7: Crisis Core
Final Fantasy Tactics
Final Fantasy 12: Revelant Wings
Final Fantasy Chocobo Tales
Final Fantasy Dissidia
Soundtracks for all of the above games, as well as both versions of the Advent Children Movie, both Dissidia games, as well as tribute and cover albums of the songs and all 3 Black Mages albums, totalling about 2000 separate tracks and 3.1 days of listening time (Well, so itunes says).
Strategy guides to Final Fantasy 7, 8, 9, 10, 10-2 and 12.
I have done a recent calculation of my logged time on all the Final Fantasy games over the years (much increased since my purchase of a PSP) and I have worked out that I have spent 3 months and 27 days playing the games. Woops...
Figures (Numbers in brackets regard to which game they are from):
Red XIII and Cait Sith (7)
Zidane Tribal (9)
Cloud, Tifa & Aerith (7)
Squall & Rhinoa (8)
Tidus, Yuna, Rikku & Auron (10)
Ashe, Vaan, Fran, Penelo & Balthier (12)
Rose, Cecil, Kain, Edge & Rydia (4)
Other Stuff:
Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within
Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children
Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children Complete
Final Fantasy 7: Last Order
Giant Sephiroth wall scroll (7)
9 poster
Moogle plush
Tonberry t-shirt
'Leonheart' necklace (8)
10 drinking flask
Keyrings x 10 (the majority of the figures already mentioned)
Red XIII canvas painting (Yes, it was drawn by me but it still counts, damnit!)
There is some more stuff, but my mind has gone totally blank! Calculating how much my entire collection is worth, both anime/manga stuff and the Final Fantasy stuff is difficult - some of the stuff is pretty rare and so is worth a lot more than when I initially bought it. For example, upon release in 1997 it was only about £20 to buy Final Fantasy 7 for the playstation. 7 years later it cost me almost double that, so...
I reckon that everything is worth near enough the £2000 mark. So er, yeah. Hurray me!!
I spent some time tonight looking on Deviant Art at people's anime/manga/Final Fantasy collections and... Er... I have so much more stuff than them it's not even funny. It's actually quite terrifying. My entire collection is worth so much money. What have I got? Well...
Anime/Manga stuff:
This is DVDs and books, as well as collectables etc. relating to the anime and manga.
Manga volumes (books)
Bleach 1-38
Black Bird 1-12
Black Butler 1-8
Deathnote (Complete!) 1-13
Fairy Tail 1-15
Full Metal Alchemist (Complete!) 1-27
Fruits Basket (Complete!) 1-28
Fushigi Yugi (Complete!) 1-18
Fushigi Yugi Genbu Kaiden 1-9 (series discontinued! :'( )
Life 1-4
Anime (DVDs)
Bleach 1-5
Bleach movies 1&2
Elfen Leid (Complete Boxset)
Fullmetal Alchemist (Complete Boxset)
Fullmetal Alchemist Movie
Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood (Complete Boxset)
Hellsing (Complete Boxset)
Hellsing Ultimate 1-4
Fruits Basket (Complete Boxset)
School Days (Complete Boxset)
The Wallflower (Complete Boxset)
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
Laputa Castle in the Sky
My Neighbour Totoro
Grave of the Fireflies
Kiki's Delivery Service
Pom Poko
Whisper of the Heart
Princess Mononoke
Spirited Away
The Cat Returns
Howl's Moving Castle
Tales from Earthsea
Ponyo
Arriety
Pokemon the First Movie
Pokemon 4ever
Collectables:
Bleach colour fact book
Bleach Art book
Fullmetal Alchemist art book volume 2
Fruits Basket tattoo, sticker and fact book
Bleach 'Kon' plush
Bleach badges x 5
Bleach posters x 7
Fullmetal Alchemist posters x 3
Now on to the good stuff: Final Fantasy. I've been a fan of this series since I was about 10, so I've had a good 10 years to collect this stuff!
Games:
Final Fantasy Origins - Final Fantasy 1 & 2
Final Fantasy 3
Final Fantasy 4
Final Fantasy 4 the Complete Collection - Final Fantasy 4, Interlude and 4: The After years
Final Fantasy Anthology - Final Fantasy 4 & 5
Final Fantasy 6
Final Fantasy 7
Final Fantasy 8
Final Fantasy 9
Final Fantasy 10
Final Fantasy 10-2
Final Fantasy 12
Final Fantasy 7: Dirge of Cerberus
Final Fantasy 7: Crisis Core
Final Fantasy Tactics
Final Fantasy 12: Revelant Wings
Final Fantasy Chocobo Tales
Final Fantasy Dissidia
Soundtracks for all of the above games, as well as both versions of the Advent Children Movie, both Dissidia games, as well as tribute and cover albums of the songs and all 3 Black Mages albums, totalling about 2000 separate tracks and 3.1 days of listening time (Well, so itunes says).
Strategy guides to Final Fantasy 7, 8, 9, 10, 10-2 and 12.
I have done a recent calculation of my logged time on all the Final Fantasy games over the years (much increased since my purchase of a PSP) and I have worked out that I have spent 3 months and 27 days playing the games. Woops...
Figures (Numbers in brackets regard to which game they are from):
Red XIII and Cait Sith (7)
Zidane Tribal (9)
Cloud, Tifa & Aerith (7)
Squall & Rhinoa (8)
Tidus, Yuna, Rikku & Auron (10)
Ashe, Vaan, Fran, Penelo & Balthier (12)
Rose, Cecil, Kain, Edge & Rydia (4)
Other Stuff:
Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within
Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children
Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children Complete
Final Fantasy 7: Last Order
Giant Sephiroth wall scroll (7)
9 poster
Moogle plush
Tonberry t-shirt
'Leonheart' necklace (8)
10 drinking flask
Keyrings x 10 (the majority of the figures already mentioned)
Red XIII canvas painting (Yes, it was drawn by me but it still counts, damnit!)
There is some more stuff, but my mind has gone totally blank! Calculating how much my entire collection is worth, both anime/manga stuff and the Final Fantasy stuff is difficult - some of the stuff is pretty rare and so is worth a lot more than when I initially bought it. For example, upon release in 1997 it was only about £20 to buy Final Fantasy 7 for the playstation. 7 years later it cost me almost double that, so...
I reckon that everything is worth near enough the £2000 mark. So er, yeah. Hurray me!!
Thursday 1 March 2012
How will YOU get famous?
So, as I was listening to the very sexy voice as the eternally sexy Jim Morrison (who is probably not really dead, but is now probably a very fat, ugly alcoholic living in a cave somewhere. No! Please be dead! Stay beautiful forever! Wait, what was I talking about??) er... *AHEM* and he was telling me about strange people and how they are, well, strange. I was struck by some of the lyrics - "When you're strange, people remember your name."
That is a very true statement, especially in today's society. If you ask anyone who discovered America they will normally respond correctly (Columbus, if you're a bit thick) but if you then go on to ask his nationality, they will normally quip "AMERICAN!" Myself included when I was A LOT younger. He was Spanish. You get kudos points if you've answered correctly so far. However, if you were to ask a group of people about the lives of 'BRANGELINA' they could tell you the location of every single one of Angelina's tattoos, the nationality of each of their kids and even what Pitt's doing with his facial hair at the moment.
My point? I'm not so sure any more, but I think it's something along the lines of celebrity culture being STUPID! We worship these people for doing nothing more than entertaining us, or shocking us with how many cocks they can get in to their body at any one time, and their are even some of them that are better than others at this and so they fall easily in to the pecking order that the media has set up for them. For some reason, we want to BE them - we want to live their lives (lives that even though they have enough money to solve World poverty at least 20 times over they feel the need to complain incessantly about it).
Gone are the days when people actually had to have talent to be remembered, like the many inventors and geniuses that many people today don't know exist because they have been removed from the mainstream by 'better' things. Let's use Mozart as an example. I love the work of Mozart, his musical compositions are breathtaking and there is nothing quite like it. I had a conversation with someone about our favourite music, and I happened to mention that I loved Mozart. "Who the fuck's that?" came the uncultured reply. "A composer and a genius. You should listen to his work, it's breathtaking!" I said through gritted teeth and suppressing a supreme urge to introduce my fist to their face for a quick buggering. "EUGH! Like, classical shit? Why the fuck would you listen to that!? You should listen to real music, like DUBSTEP!" It was at this point that my memory gets a little hazy. I may have killed them in cold blood and eaten their remains, or could have simply walked off without another word, tears in my eyes and formulating a suicide plan for later that night.
With a culture based solely on the internet, it seems like almost anyone can get famous these days, such as the 'Numa Numa Guy' and Star Wars Kid, who got famous for being fat and doing funny things with their body and face, and of course, people like Chris Crocker, famous for putting on eyeliner and sobbing about Britney Spears being bullied. He is now a celebrity in his own right (PAH!) simply for doing something extremely odd but mildly entertaining.
I guess it can't be helped. What The Doors said was true - people do remember your name when you're strange, myself included. Except in my case it's a somewhat amusing nickname from a time when I got beyond drunk, ate fish food and vomited all over a house full of strangers. I am now friends with those strangers and they do remember my name. If I was Christened 'Fish food', that is. ¬_¬
That is a very true statement, especially in today's society. If you ask anyone who discovered America they will normally respond correctly (Columbus, if you're a bit thick) but if you then go on to ask his nationality, they will normally quip "AMERICAN!" Myself included when I was A LOT younger. He was Spanish. You get kudos points if you've answered correctly so far. However, if you were to ask a group of people about the lives of 'BRANGELINA' they could tell you the location of every single one of Angelina's tattoos, the nationality of each of their kids and even what Pitt's doing with his facial hair at the moment.
My point? I'm not so sure any more, but I think it's something along the lines of celebrity culture being STUPID! We worship these people for doing nothing more than entertaining us, or shocking us with how many cocks they can get in to their body at any one time, and their are even some of them that are better than others at this and so they fall easily in to the pecking order that the media has set up for them. For some reason, we want to BE them - we want to live their lives (lives that even though they have enough money to solve World poverty at least 20 times over they feel the need to complain incessantly about it).
Gone are the days when people actually had to have talent to be remembered, like the many inventors and geniuses that many people today don't know exist because they have been removed from the mainstream by 'better' things. Let's use Mozart as an example. I love the work of Mozart, his musical compositions are breathtaking and there is nothing quite like it. I had a conversation with someone about our favourite music, and I happened to mention that I loved Mozart. "Who the fuck's that?" came the uncultured reply. "A composer and a genius. You should listen to his work, it's breathtaking!" I said through gritted teeth and suppressing a supreme urge to introduce my fist to their face for a quick buggering. "EUGH! Like, classical shit? Why the fuck would you listen to that!? You should listen to real music, like DUBSTEP!" It was at this point that my memory gets a little hazy. I may have killed them in cold blood and eaten their remains, or could have simply walked off without another word, tears in my eyes and formulating a suicide plan for later that night.
With a culture based solely on the internet, it seems like almost anyone can get famous these days, such as the 'Numa Numa Guy' and Star Wars Kid, who got famous for being fat and doing funny things with their body and face, and of course, people like Chris Crocker, famous for putting on eyeliner and sobbing about Britney Spears being bullied. He is now a celebrity in his own right (PAH!) simply for doing something extremely odd but mildly entertaining.
I guess it can't be helped. What The Doors said was true - people do remember your name when you're strange, myself included. Except in my case it's a somewhat amusing nickname from a time when I got beyond drunk, ate fish food and vomited all over a house full of strangers. I am now friends with those strangers and they do remember my name. If I was Christened 'Fish food', that is. ¬_¬
Tuesday 28 February 2012
God gave me a penis THEREFORE I AM RIGHT!
Today, I was rather productive in one of my hellish lectures. No, I don't mean I actually listened and took notes, God forbid, I wrote a list of things I'm going to blog about and at the top of that list was: MEN! So, here we go! (Don't worry, women, I have a lot to say about you, too!) This will ultimately centre around men's attitudes to women, methinks, as this is an area I have a lot of experience with.
Perhaps a little disclaimer, Leah? Before you start flinging your biased opinions left right and centre without thinking "Hang on... Some MEN might read this!"? Fine, jeez... I am writing from my own encounters with men, and understand that they do not represent the entirety of the female species. Just the majority. I also understand that not all men are the same. Just most of them are. So, let the possibly lesbian-but-ultimately-feminist literal ball bashing, begin!
Because the male half of the human species has not only an X Chromosome, but also a Y one (how thoroughly thrilling for you, gents) they also got a hideous dangling thing between their legs, making a man rather similar in appearance to his unique chromosome (he wishes!) and is quite clearly a sign that the Y chromosome is still bellowing from the deep recesses of the DNA strand "Hey, remember me and all I did for you? Well, he's a memorial statue of me and I can't think of a better place to put it than between your legs!" Even though for many men it could have looked quite nice on the display cabinet that is their forehead. This hideous ol' Y chromosome also gave them an undeserved sense of self-worth, a superiority complex and an inability to supply blood to more than one of their two heads at once. But maybe that's being too mean? Meh. I'm a very mean person.
From what I have experienced and seen, men are severely simple creatures, thinking mainly with the head that only has seemingly one goal in mind - Imma get laaaaaaaaaaaid! Naturally, they was they go about it is similar to the way an infant child eyes that massive and painfully expensive cuddly Eeyore in the Disney store - "if it looks big and pretty then I want it, and I'm going to bother everyone around me in a most annoying and loud until I do get it" Apart from it seems that with the male brain this is edited slightly to "If it's got a cracking arse/pair of tits/pair of legs then I most certainly would like to put my knob in it!"
What baffles me the most is that it's almost like men believe that if they yell at a well-endowed woman as she wanders past that she's got massive breasts, that she's going to look down at her own chest and realise that the thing she has been missing in her life so far is obviously not a massive pair of tits, but a man who can state the obvious and shower her with such delightful compliments, and with that she will throw her handbag and all its contents to the wind and fling her hand down his pants faster than you can say "What's your name?" Message to men: IT DOESN'T WORK!!!
Just this morning as I was wandering to uni I was hit with a good example - 5 'men' crammed in to what I deemed on first appearances to be a Hotwheels car only slightly enlarged to accommodate their fat heads, who proceeded to honk the horn of their car at least 700 times while crying out, and I quote *ahem*: "I like yer tits, love! Give us yer number!" "Hey, you ain't got a bad arse either!" "I right fancy yer!" and my personal favourite "With tits like that only a man like me could make yer happy!" Charming. My reaction to this was not to throw my handbag at a woman walking her dog and run in to the path of their car, but it was, shockingly enough, to laugh uproariously and speed off, 'tits' obviously bouncing around angrily. Of course, that reaction was only after the initial heart attack and pants-shitting of having a horn screech at you several times in quick succession had worn off and I'd worked out what was going on.
I have large breasts? NO WAAAAAAY! I'd always wondered what these hugely expensive, back-breakingly painful, enormously heavy lumps of fat were on the front of my chest. Yelling things at women just makes you look stupid, and playing 'guess the bra size" or saying that you'd like a girl's bra, but it would look better on your bedroom floor will just end with a girl flinging a bucket of chicken at your car and assaulting you with salt sachets.
Perhaps a little disclaimer, Leah? Before you start flinging your biased opinions left right and centre without thinking "Hang on... Some MEN might read this!"? Fine, jeez... I am writing from my own encounters with men, and understand that they do not represent the entirety of the female species. Just the majority. I also understand that not all men are the same. Just most of them are. So, let the possibly lesbian-but-ultimately-feminist literal ball bashing, begin!
Because the male half of the human species has not only an X Chromosome, but also a Y one (how thoroughly thrilling for you, gents) they also got a hideous dangling thing between their legs, making a man rather similar in appearance to his unique chromosome (he wishes!) and is quite clearly a sign that the Y chromosome is still bellowing from the deep recesses of the DNA strand "Hey, remember me and all I did for you? Well, he's a memorial statue of me and I can't think of a better place to put it than between your legs!" Even though for many men it could have looked quite nice on the display cabinet that is their forehead. This hideous ol' Y chromosome also gave them an undeserved sense of self-worth, a superiority complex and an inability to supply blood to more than one of their two heads at once. But maybe that's being too mean? Meh. I'm a very mean person.
From what I have experienced and seen, men are severely simple creatures, thinking mainly with the head that only has seemingly one goal in mind - Imma get laaaaaaaaaaaid! Naturally, they was they go about it is similar to the way an infant child eyes that massive and painfully expensive cuddly Eeyore in the Disney store - "if it looks big and pretty then I want it, and I'm going to bother everyone around me in a most annoying and loud until I do get it" Apart from it seems that with the male brain this is edited slightly to "If it's got a cracking arse/pair of tits/pair of legs then I most certainly would like to put my knob in it!"
What baffles me the most is that it's almost like men believe that if they yell at a well-endowed woman as she wanders past that she's got massive breasts, that she's going to look down at her own chest and realise that the thing she has been missing in her life so far is obviously not a massive pair of tits, but a man who can state the obvious and shower her with such delightful compliments, and with that she will throw her handbag and all its contents to the wind and fling her hand down his pants faster than you can say "What's your name?" Message to men: IT DOESN'T WORK!!!
Just this morning as I was wandering to uni I was hit with a good example - 5 'men' crammed in to what I deemed on first appearances to be a Hotwheels car only slightly enlarged to accommodate their fat heads, who proceeded to honk the horn of their car at least 700 times while crying out, and I quote *ahem*: "I like yer tits, love! Give us yer number!" "Hey, you ain't got a bad arse either!" "I right fancy yer!" and my personal favourite "With tits like that only a man like me could make yer happy!" Charming. My reaction to this was not to throw my handbag at a woman walking her dog and run in to the path of their car, but it was, shockingly enough, to laugh uproariously and speed off, 'tits' obviously bouncing around angrily. Of course, that reaction was only after the initial heart attack and pants-shitting of having a horn screech at you several times in quick succession had worn off and I'd worked out what was going on.
I have large breasts? NO WAAAAAAY! I'd always wondered what these hugely expensive, back-breakingly painful, enormously heavy lumps of fat were on the front of my chest. Yelling things at women just makes you look stupid, and playing 'guess the bra size" or saying that you'd like a girl's bra, but it would look better on your bedroom floor will just end with a girl flinging a bucket of chicken at your car and assaulting you with salt sachets.
Sunday 12 February 2012
I'll Be Back
Lately, I have been watching A LOT of films that demonstrate my immense status as a geek/the wrong sex. Namely, the Star Wars films (No, I am not named after Princess fucking Leia. My name on my birth certificate is 'Leiah'! Pronounced 'Lee-ah'. It's the Irish spelling!) the Terminator films (well, the first 2. The others cannot be considered Terminator films, as they are, um, shite. To be blunt.) Predator, and the Jurassic Park films. And it got me thinking - yeah, don't be too shocked, I do think on occasion. Why are these films considered films for geeks? Or for guys? What is it within the 2 sexes that makes them geared towards liking a certain genre of film?
I once asked a man if he enjoyed 'The Notebook' in front of a group of his friends, which of course, was a mistake, as when he replied 'why yes, Leah, I very much enjoyed The Notebook' his friends literally roared with laughter and screamed 'GAYBOYYYYYYYYYY' at him for I think most of the following week. When I said the same film was 'alright' to the same group of men, but that I preferred horror or action films, I got several immense back slaps and hand shakes for being 'awesome' (which I am, of course, but that point is going off topic a bit). What is it that makes it so men must enjoy graphically violent, explosion-filled, horrific shooters or comedies, crammed with aliens, monsters and cowboys, where women are stuck with cartoons and romantic films that are all EXACTLY THE SAME!? (I'm sorry. I bloody HATE romance films!!)
I think you can blame it on Testosterone - the MAN gene! I like to call it the 'Peacock Gene' personally, seeing as it causes men to strut about at all times acting butch and avoiding showing any emotion other than anger or mild annoyance. I'm glad women don't have as much of it. Women walking around thrusting their chests out at all times is a sure-fire way for someone to lose an eye.
I grew up watching The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, and I can't remember a time when A Fist Full Of Dollars or a James Bond film wasn't on in the background. Batman was my hero and dinosaurs were the coolest things to have ever walked on Earth! I started playing video games as soon as I was old enough to hold a controller and would love nothing more than climbing trees or digging holes whenever I got to outside. I know that parents obviously raise their children, and have a lot of say on what they watch or do, but my mum and dad were always very in to letting their kids liking what they wanted to like, so it was all me! Am I a boy? Methinks my chest doth protest that claim, but I think you know what I'm getting at!
This attitude that I had as a child hasn't ever left me - I think I'm finally getting round to admitting that I am a geek. Come on, I have a 3ft tall wall scroll of Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII on my wall (Who scares me SHITLESS if I ever wake up in the middle of the night). I have a shirt with a Tonberry on it. No one knows what the frig a Tonberry is. I have a stuffed moogle. There is no normality in that.
I'm not so sure on the point of this post any more O_________O BUT embrace your geekiness! There's nothing wrong with it!
Comments on the topic of 'Jar Jar Binks - WTF!??!' All opinions welcome. Unless your opinion is something other than 'he's an annoying wanker and totally pointless.' in which case your opinion is wrong. I'm kidding :P
I once asked a man if he enjoyed 'The Notebook' in front of a group of his friends, which of course, was a mistake, as when he replied 'why yes, Leah, I very much enjoyed The Notebook' his friends literally roared with laughter and screamed 'GAYBOYYYYYYYYYY' at him for I think most of the following week. When I said the same film was 'alright' to the same group of men, but that I preferred horror or action films, I got several immense back slaps and hand shakes for being 'awesome' (which I am, of course, but that point is going off topic a bit). What is it that makes it so men must enjoy graphically violent, explosion-filled, horrific shooters or comedies, crammed with aliens, monsters and cowboys, where women are stuck with cartoons and romantic films that are all EXACTLY THE SAME!? (I'm sorry. I bloody HATE romance films!!)
I think you can blame it on Testosterone - the MAN gene! I like to call it the 'Peacock Gene' personally, seeing as it causes men to strut about at all times acting butch and avoiding showing any emotion other than anger or mild annoyance. I'm glad women don't have as much of it. Women walking around thrusting their chests out at all times is a sure-fire way for someone to lose an eye.
I grew up watching The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, and I can't remember a time when A Fist Full Of Dollars or a James Bond film wasn't on in the background. Batman was my hero and dinosaurs were the coolest things to have ever walked on Earth! I started playing video games as soon as I was old enough to hold a controller and would love nothing more than climbing trees or digging holes whenever I got to outside. I know that parents obviously raise their children, and have a lot of say on what they watch or do, but my mum and dad were always very in to letting their kids liking what they wanted to like, so it was all me! Am I a boy? Methinks my chest doth protest that claim, but I think you know what I'm getting at!
This attitude that I had as a child hasn't ever left me - I think I'm finally getting round to admitting that I am a geek. Come on, I have a 3ft tall wall scroll of Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII on my wall (Who scares me SHITLESS if I ever wake up in the middle of the night). I have a shirt with a Tonberry on it. No one knows what the frig a Tonberry is. I have a stuffed moogle. There is no normality in that.
I'm not so sure on the point of this post any more O_________O BUT embrace your geekiness! There's nothing wrong with it!
Comments on the topic of 'Jar Jar Binks - WTF!??!' All opinions welcome. Unless your opinion is something other than 'he's an annoying wanker and totally pointless.' in which case your opinion is wrong. I'm kidding :P
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Where The Hell You Been?
Er, hi!
Been a while, hasn't it? About 4 months maybe? Jesus, I don't think I've ever been quiet for that long. I hope you enjoyed it while you could, because I doubt it will happen again. (This is a lie. I'll probably get busy again and forget about you lot. Um, woops?)
So, what's been happening? I've had some drama. I've had some trauma. And about 80% of the things that have happened to me have been totally random and ultimately hilarious.
Basics-wise, I'm back at uni after a lovely Christmas at home with my family. It was also, I'm proud to admit, the first 'carnivorous' Christmas I've enjoyed in 15 years. Yip! Me likey de meaty now! "Why?" I hear you cry? (Well, I don't actually hear you) Well, I have some food intolerances. Um, yay. So, I cannot have dairy or starchy things any more. I'm even more awkward to take out to dinner than I was before. PEOPLE LIKE ME, ARRRRRRR!!!!!!
I turned 20, which makes me wince every time it is brought up. I don't particularly have any wish to be an adult. I don't act like one in the slightest, so I think it would be almost wrong to call myself one. Also, I don't want to feel old. Being 20 makes me feel old. Especially when my younger brother cries out "Holy SHIT I'm going to have an adult sister!!" while I'm driving. Sure-fire way to almost make me have an accident there, Christy Bum!
I've also cut the majority of my hair off. Once again. Even though I hated it when I did it before and practically pulled it all out through the stress of it not growing back again quick enough. I am currently sporting the same hair cut that a young Leah Deane sported. Age 5. She had no choice in the matter and looked vaguely sweet/female with said hair cut. Then Leah Heeney gave it a shot aged 15. I'm not quite sure why she did it - probably some sort of 'I WANT TO BE DIFFERENT' motive. Now, aged 20, Leah Noble has given it another shot.
*Derp face* What? Oh, yeah. I'm not Leah Heeney any more! Due to my, er, somewhat 'iffy' mental state when it came to a certain man (who shall remain nameless as I don't want to end up sobbing hysterically and rocking myself in a corner. Seriously. It was reaching that point. Anyway) who shared my previous surname, I have taken steps. Well, I say 'steps' in an uber-dramatic fashion, but all I've done is change my surname. Oooh, new signature! (Again). Judging on how long I usually hold a surname for, I should get married and change my name again in 10 years time. (Pfft!! Yeah, because THAT will happen!)
Maybe I should change my author name on here, then...
And so, I am back! So, get out the banners and the balloons (Amy style. She filled my room with balloons for my return!) and get ready to be filled with my random witterings once more. How thrilling are they? ^__________^
Been a while, hasn't it? About 4 months maybe? Jesus, I don't think I've ever been quiet for that long. I hope you enjoyed it while you could, because I doubt it will happen again. (This is a lie. I'll probably get busy again and forget about you lot. Um, woops?)
So, what's been happening? I've had some drama. I've had some trauma. And about 80% of the things that have happened to me have been totally random and ultimately hilarious.
Basics-wise, I'm back at uni after a lovely Christmas at home with my family. It was also, I'm proud to admit, the first 'carnivorous' Christmas I've enjoyed in 15 years. Yip! Me likey de meaty now! "Why?" I hear you cry? (Well, I don't actually hear you) Well, I have some food intolerances. Um, yay. So, I cannot have dairy or starchy things any more. I'm even more awkward to take out to dinner than I was before. PEOPLE LIKE ME, ARRRRRRR!!!!!!
I turned 20, which makes me wince every time it is brought up. I don't particularly have any wish to be an adult. I don't act like one in the slightest, so I think it would be almost wrong to call myself one. Also, I don't want to feel old. Being 20 makes me feel old. Especially when my younger brother cries out "Holy SHIT I'm going to have an adult sister!!" while I'm driving. Sure-fire way to almost make me have an accident there, Christy Bum!
I've also cut the majority of my hair off. Once again. Even though I hated it when I did it before and practically pulled it all out through the stress of it not growing back again quick enough. I am currently sporting the same hair cut that a young Leah Deane sported. Age 5. She had no choice in the matter and looked vaguely sweet/female with said hair cut. Then Leah Heeney gave it a shot aged 15. I'm not quite sure why she did it - probably some sort of 'I WANT TO BE DIFFERENT' motive. Now, aged 20, Leah Noble has given it another shot.
*Derp face* What? Oh, yeah. I'm not Leah Heeney any more! Due to my, er, somewhat 'iffy' mental state when it came to a certain man (who shall remain nameless as I don't want to end up sobbing hysterically and rocking myself in a corner. Seriously. It was reaching that point. Anyway) who shared my previous surname, I have taken steps. Well, I say 'steps' in an uber-dramatic fashion, but all I've done is change my surname. Oooh, new signature! (Again). Judging on how long I usually hold a surname for, I should get married and change my name again in 10 years time. (Pfft!! Yeah, because THAT will happen!)
Maybe I should change my author name on here, then...
And so, I am back! So, get out the banners and the balloons (Amy style. She filled my room with balloons for my return!) and get ready to be filled with my random witterings once more. How thrilling are they? ^__________^
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