Moonwalking Away From Responsibilities

Dear reader,

I think self-control is one of the most impressive and admirable qualities you can find in someone; I have so much respect for people who stand up and force themselves to get stuff done, be it homework or otherwise. Or for people who know when it's time to let stuff go, when it's time to say "enough", time to start again, avoid distractions and just get to it.

I am not one of these people. I am distracted and excited by anything and everything aside from what I should be doing: there is a bag of art supplies by my feet burning a hole in my creativity; I sat for much of this afternoon either with a guitar in my hand or looking at one online; I continue to think of ideas for a bloody novel, and I spend far more time than healthy just staring off into space.

And, let's not forget, I'm sitting writing this instead of preparing for the oh-so-important examinations of mine taking place next month. I am Queen of Procrastination, bow before my ridiculous talent of avoiding responsibilities.

It gets worse when I'm stressed, I think. I can't explain it scientifically, but in basic terminology I think it's just a way for my brain to look away and tell me to chill the hell out. And who am I to disobey? That lump of biologically-wired mush kinda decides my every move.

It's improving though, in some aspects of my life. I can make myself get up at ungodly hours of the early morning, for whatever reason, but I can also stay up to ungodly hours of the early morning, for whatever reason. Although, in saying that, it's most likely because I put off finishing some kind of essay due the next morning, which isn't as impressive as it is mind-blowingly stupid.

And y'know what doesn't help with this? Study leave. A terrific idea, sure, but with a fridge at seven seconds walking distance, and an unlimited supply of music to hand, it seems that rather than getting into a deep trance of concentration I'm left either taunted by leftovers or resisting the urge to get up and dance my troubles away.

But there's nothing that can change this habit apart from the very lump of mush that's created it in the first place, even though all that lump of mush wants to do is jump up and flail around after it thought putting a certain Mr Jackson album on shuffle would be a good idea.

Sadly, at the end of the day, I actually can't blame it on the boogie.

Liv.

Cue the January Blues

Dear reader,

Hi again, hope you're all doin' alright. Prelims have been going on these past two weeks which means late nights, paper everywhere and several cups of tea an hour. Then I start studying.

It's snowing up here, pretty heavily at times, which is exciting because we haven't really had anything this winter. But on the other hand it's actually proving to be very confusing because my body is now assuming that because it's snowing Christmas is on the way and I should get really excited but NO, it's OVER. 

January's such an odd month. I don't know if it's just me, but it kind of feels like nobody really knows what to do with themselves around this time of year. There's no mad rush to get presents sorted or plan office night's out, there aren't any cheesy Chrimbo films to indulge in or New Year's Eve parties to attend, and if you're like me you've already finished the chocolate you got for Christmas. It's shit. 

And to make things worse, we've all probably made promises to ourselves to break habits or start new ones for the fabulous entry into 2k15. This is also shit, because they rarely last more than a week - two at most. "I'm gonna go for a run every morning this year!" "I'm cutting out carbs. For good. Apart from potatoes, and bread... and maybe pasta" Aye right mate. 

If I've created a slightly cynical and depressing atmosphere so far, I'm heading in the right direction. Because here comes the volta (I know it's not poetry but look at me revising for English, eh, eh?) - we must fight to defeat the January Blues: we must not let them get the better of us. My New-January's-Resolution is to stop making resolutions and start accepting that I am not a character in The Incredibles. 

So here's how it's gunna go down: you're going to wake up each morning and find things to do. Keep busy, make plans to look forward to. If you're going to set goals, fantastic but don't make them too out-of-reach. Meet up with friends, go to the cinema, get on your bike, walk the dog, I don't care, just find ways to be happy, and find ways to make other people happy too; we're all suffering this month. 

I didn't have a specific topic in mind tonight, but it would seem that just typing has brought out something of a pep-talk. Ah well, I hope it helped and inspired you all.

Leave a comment to let me know how you plan on tackling your January Blues, I'll always reply. 

And good luck!

Liv. 

The Real Reason We Watch Twilight

Dear reader,

So I've recently become a fan of Stephen King's work, having read Misery, The Shining, Carrie and a collection of his short stories. And can I just say, they are phenomenal pieces of writing: the man is a genius. Slightly psychotic, I might add, but they say that a genius is just a mad-man with an audience, and to come up with stories like that I don't see how you couldn't be genius. I'm babbling, it's not important. The point is, read The Shining before you watch the film. Seriously, you'd be doing yourself a favour. I practically cried in frustration when I saw how they butchered the plot-line and characters in the film. Real shame.

And this got me thinking: how many of us can actually, truly, honestly say that the films made of books come even vaguely close to the beauty of  the original novel? NONE. For the simple reason being that it was written as a book, not for the screen. You miss out on the way our favourite character is first described, the way the scene is set with the author's beautiful wording, the way suspense is created with cliffhangers and dramatic dot-dot-dots. You miss the girl's thoughts and feelings when she finally gets the kiss, the hero's adrenaline and panic as he goes forth to battle the dragon. There's an entire world in words, and it's almost impossible to recreate that with actors and a soundtrack.

Damn son

So, in a way, you could argue that it's unfair of me to take a stab at the directors and producers of these films, because of course it's not going to compare to the original book. How do you squeeze four hundred odd words into an hour and a half, what do you cut out, what do you keep? I tell you, I wouldn't like to be on that committee. And there are the few exceptions, look at how successful the Harry Potter films became, despite Radcliffe's hair in the fourth one (WHAT where they thinking?!). And I don't know what you guys thought of the screen editions of The Hunger Games but I really don't think they could have done it much better.

Then there's Twilight, where the only reasons we watch it are for our eleven year old self and Taylor Lautner's torso.

Comment away and hit the follow button for more, hope to see you all back soon!

Keep reading,

Liv.

Top 5 Fictional Places I Would Like to Visit - TAG TIME

Dear reader,

So now that I'm making an appearance back on the blogosphere, I thought it only fitting to check out some new blogs and see what everyone's up to. Exciting stuff, I know. I stumbled, quite fortunately, upon this blog: I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good and in doing so, stumbled upon a fabulous tag after which this post is named (doing a lot of stumbling lately, must be the icy pavements). So without further ado, let's cut to it.

1. Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Um, yes please. Who wouldn't?! Picture it: the waterfall, the river, basically everything you touch and see is edible.  Plus, I've always wanted to dance with an Oompa Loompa, they seem to have it all figured out.
   
2. The Overlook Hotel. Okay this one's a little out of the ordinary; the haunted hotel from The Shining? But it's like the modern day Dracula's castle: you know it's bad business, but it's a cool place all the same. Plus it's in the moutnains: BONUS. Might even pop into Room 217. 
   
3. Belle's Library. I may have stolen this one from the blog I mentioned earlier, but really I'm just agreeing with her. I mean look at it!! Beautiful... Belle, even. *ba dum tiss*
   
   
   
4. Hogwarts. You can't not include Hogwarts, it's every nerd's dream do get the letter of admission, pack your bags, find an owl and head on over to platform 9 and three quarters (which I have actually visited, twas a cool day). But yeah Hogwarts, what a place. 
   

   

   told ya

5. Atlantis. Right, as much as I'd love to be a mermaid (SOMEDAY I SWEAR) I'm not referring to The Little Mermaid here, I'm actually talking about one of my favourite Disney films from when I was little. Milo's adventure had me absolutely hooked, truth is I just want to follow his footsteps. 
   

So there you have it: my top five places. Obviously I want to go everywhere, and feel guilty at betraying Alsan and also not including Treasure Planet, not to mention Downton Abbey (although I'm fairly certain that's a real place and wouldn't count), but what you gunna do. I would encourage you all to dive back into your childhoods and consider the top five fictional places you'd visit if given the opportunity. I really enjoyed this tag, might do a few more with a similar basis, any suggestions are more than welcome. 

That's all folks!

Keep reading,

Liv. 

New Blooooog!

Dear reader,

So here's the thing about having a blog; you tend to forget its there. Not that anyone really cares if you write or not, there's too much shit going on in the world for any of us to give a damn about some sixteen year-old keeping up a website for her thoughts (do they?).

But I've forgotten how much I love writing, so I'm back. Not only that, but as of today I've formed a new blog as well! I know, strenuous activity from someone who hasn't been on Blogger for the last year or so.

But yeah, the blog is called A Day in the Life and the basic idea is that I create a character and give them a back-story. For example, the first post is The Widow where I thought about a young woman who recently lost her husband, and what it must be like to go through something like that. So, me being me, I have discovered yet another way to avoid revising for these god-awful prelims next month. Go motivation.

I'd love for you guys to give it a wee look, to see if it's something you're interested in following. Link is here or you should be able to find it under a list of my blogs. And hey, if you have an idea for a character whose story you'd like to see me write, leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you come up with, and I'd be more than happy to brainstorm a few ideas for them.

See ya soon lads,

Keep reading!

Liv.

Face Hats and Gladiators.

Dear reader,

It's Saturday. People everywhere are out partying and generally having a jolly good time. Good for them. The time will come for me to join those people, but for now I am perfectly happy to lounge about on the sofa  watching reruns of Friends before occasionally stuffing my face with garbage.

Which leads me on to today's topic. No, not the garbage stuffing part, the reruns. Today, I shoved some pizzas in the oven, took the ice cream out the freezer and settled on the couch. Sounds like a plan, right? Well yeah, that's kind of our Saturday night family routine. Only problem is, when we finally sit down, we spend 10 minutes flicking through channels in the vain hope that something, anything will show up.

Aston defying gravity by wearing a hat on
the side of his face. 

Saturday night TV used to be great. There was The X Factor, but that's all gone downhill since Simon left and the auditions became in front of an audience. When that wasn't on, there was BGT. That's ok I suppose, but Amanda Holden claps like a seal and, again, Simon left. Got To Dance is about the only talent show I can bear to watch now, but dear oh dear oh dear... there's a new judge. Aston flipping Merrygold. Who doesn't actually know anything about dancing, and can't wear a hat properly. Look, just look at him. It's a disgrace. Can you imagine what his grandmother would say? I-I just... I just can't...

Does anyone remember the show Gladiators? You know, the one where contestants would battle against the gladiators and the white haired guy with the whistle would shout "CONTENDERS... RRRRRRRRRRRRREAAAAADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GLADIATORS... RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREAAAAAADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

No? Ah. Look it up, it was a favourite of mine.

So with nothing decent on, what are we left with? Cheesey films starring unheard-of actors who never made another appearance? Thanks, Sky. Remind me never to invite you over.

Well, enjoy your Saturday evening folks. I'm off.

Keep reading!

Liv.

Maths? Pah.

Dear reader,

I would like to begin by apologizing in advance to all maths teachers. This essay is simply a matter of opinion. I do not wish to hurt anyone’s feelings, I just want people to realize that mathematics is a hidden form of torture. 

I mean, come on. I don’t care how many apples John has if he and Steven both had fourteen to begin with and Britney Spears got a boob job. I don’t care. Aside from the essentials, we are never going to have to use this crap in the future. So why must we sit in in a stuffy, humid classroom on a disturbingly warm seat in order to work out the value of x? 

As far as I know, the people who may require algebra in their jobs include electricians, mechanics, plumbers, construction workers and accountants. Fair enough, but not all of us want to become some kind of engineer; some of us are perfectly happy to work as a zoologist or interior decorator, in a world far away from complicated nonsense. Like I said, the basics are all we need.

Addition and subtraction and multiplication and division and percentages and fractions are basics. These are essential. Quadratic equations are not essential. I strongly believe that the only other time in our lives when we will have to open the mind cabinet labelled “surds” is when our own children come home with homework they don’t understand. That, dear reader, is where the cycle repeats.  

Now, I’m a reasonable person. I’m not saying that maths is a complete waste of time. It is a handy skill to be able to add up price tags to work out whether or not you can afford to buy the shoes and the scarf, or if a distressing decision must be made. I don’t hate maths. I find some aspects of it tedious and frustrating, but others are manageable. Despite an earlier paragraph where I rambled on about the uselessness of algebra, I actually find it the most enjoyable sub-topic in the textbook. Typical, eh?   

It’s a shame, some parts of maths are actually quite important. Standard deviation, for example, is a dreary, complex area which could prove to be vital in later life. Unfortunately, I see it as more of an excuse to draw lines all over my jotter page.

The same applies to trigonometry. It is an almost understandable feature of this cruelty, however (unless you become an architect or something) it’s hardly a necessity.

But do you know what I’ve discovered makes any part of maths a thousand times worse? Drawing a graph. Solve this equation, and then graph it. Calculate the value of x, and then draw a trigonometric graph to show this. Amuse me, puny 3^rd year, because I have nothing to do with my spare time other than write textbooks ordering you to draw squiggly lines to prove something I already know. They must really get a kick out of the idea of 100 and something children simultaneously groaning as they turn to the allocated page. Sadistic, don’t you think?

So there you have it. One and forty-seven ninety-fourths of a page explaining why maths is stupid and a waste of time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to use sine and Pythagoras to solve the area of my toast.

Liv.

Tea and Their Pots

Dear reader, 

At a mere glance at tonight's title, you may be thinking, "...okay..." but I promise you, I have good intentions. Half the people reading this may not even drink tea, but after reading this may agree with my hate of using pathetic teapots, and the process leading up to them. 

So you're sitting down perfectly happy when all of a sudden you hear those dreaded words, "Put the kettle on, love?" Em, no thanks?! Believe me, I have tried to wiggle my way out of it by just sitting there after saying, "Ugh, fine!" but no. Parents, they forget pocket money month after month. But when it comes down to their cup of tea, it's ridiculous to even consider the possibility of them not realizing you haven't yet moved.

You then slump off the couch and drag your feet along the carpet on the way to the kitchen, huffing and puffing as loudly as possible so that they just might see that you're struggling to build up the effort to care enough to make a decent cup of tea and take over. Word of advice, don't hold your breath.

As the message finally reaches your brain telling you that you are infact going to have to do this yourself, you boil the kettle. A painfully slow process in which you sit there hoping that if you stare at the kettle for long enough, it might just hurry up. Yes I am a rather lazy person and have no patience whatsoever but the worst is yet to come, my friend. After boiling the kettle, pouring a splash of milk into each cup and popping two teabags into the pot, you pour the water into the dreaded teapot...

As I previously mentioned, I contain no trace of patience within me, and so instead of waiting for the teabags to release their... their... um... tea, I fish out a spoon and stir it, pressing the bags against the sides of the pot. Now, the time has come... to pour... the tea. You knew that this was coming, and take a slow, deep breath as you lift the pot, hovering it over the mugs. You tilt it slightly, and soon enough tea begins to flow through the spout. You smile, so far so good. But then again, you know it's too good to be true, and sure enough BAM!!! Disaster strikes. The stream of tea suddenly turns to a pathetic dribble, and thats when you know that that's the way it will stay until you finish pouring the tea. You groan, and silently abuse it from inside your head. Attemping to move the teapots from blocking the exit, you turn the pot to the right and swivel it around. You try again, fail, abuse, turn and swivel. This is how your actions will go for the next 5mins. Good luck.

But seriously, if you're planning on producing and selling your own brand of teapots, will you make sure that they actually WORK?!?!?! That a decent, constant flow of tea will exit the pot and land satisfyingly into the mugs?!?! It's really not that much to ask!!! God. I personally love a good cuppa tea, but the idea of going throught all that frustration and annoyance and stress makes me not want to bother. Oh, and you may be reading this thinking, "Is she stupid?! Just take out the blooming bags!" well haha cos I did and it makes no difference. The awful design of the pot doesn't allow me to easily prepare this delightful beverage, no matter what I do. So BOOM.

Once again, I'm sure that I'm not the only one in this situation. So please, comment at the bottom and if you like what I write, feel free to follow me using the wee thingymebob on the right. ---------------->

Liv.

Show me the money!

Dear reader,

I'm deeply sorry that I didn't write anything last night, I spent the whole day at my Gran's and then sorted out my bag for today. What was this bag for you ask? Well, that leads me onto today's topic.

The whole of S2 took a trip to Edinburgh Zoo today, as part of biology. Well, I think that's what is was for, we were meant to attend a lecture on primate behaviour as part of the trip, but... um... we um... missed it. Shame... :S Anyway, we had a brilliant time walking round, admiring bored animals and surrounding them with cameras. And of course at the end we went to the gift shop. Ah the gift shop, more often than not it's the child's highlight of the day out. You walk in, squeal at the sight of cuddly toys and stationary that you know you will probably never glance at again but nevertheless like the colour. Then, you grab your favourite item and then suck up to mum and dad to convince them that if you don't buy this you will simply DIE.

The problem is, even as a fourteen year-old girl, I still feel that way. Knowing that you have a tenner burning a hole in your pocket is unbearably tempting. So naturally, I thought, "I'm here, I have to buy something." My mind then flew back home to my brothers: Fraser brought me something back from his trip, so it's only fair, and Elliot (being 5) would scream the place down if I got Fraser something and not him. Okay. Sorted.

Next problem - what to get. Nothing too big or fancy, but nothing rubbish that would be pointless to buy. They have to like it. I looked at around and settled for two magnets which suited them perfectly. Pleased, I checked the prices and I swear down I had to read the label twice. Now, not so pleased. £2.50... EACH. For both of them I would be paying a fiver on my brothers. A bit much perhaps, but those were the only "cheap" gifts I felt they would like. Sighing, I went on patrol for a little something for myself. I found a bookmark and a panda key-ring, totalling up to £9.50 altogether. And thank God I still had enough for the bus home.

Here comes the real question: why on Earth are they priced so high?! Well, in all fairness, Edinburgh Zoo profits go to charity which I think is fandabbydosey, but in general, costs for little bits and bobs at the teeny wee gift shops are ridiculously overpriced. I know it's all stupid stuff like, "Oh, people will pay anything these days, besides, we need the money," or "Ah, they won't mind. The public love the museum." Yeah, keep telling yourself that mate, cos after viewing the prices, they might not be so keen on spending that much on a pencil, meaning that you lose money. Ha ha HA.

I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? If you bring the costs of things down, more people would be comfortable about buying them, meaning that you would possibly - in theory - get more money. It's a win win situation, no?

Comment your opinions, I'm certain that I'm not alone on this one. ;)

Liv.

The reason it's harder to have a social life.

Dear reader,

Ah, the time has come for me to talk about the ultimate topic: homework. The thing is, where do I begin? There's just so much I could bang on about that it would be boring. So let's keep it short and simple by saying what every 5-18 year old person thinks when the teacher walks up to the board and begins to write the task you've to do for the next time you encounter each other - NOOO!!!!!!!!

Teachers have come up with all sorts of crap for you to do, and I swear they sit down with a cuppa tea at night and think to themselves all the ways in which they can make our nights endlessly essay-filled whilst rubbing their hands together and laughing.

But not only have they come up with all sorts of crap for us to do, they have come up with stupid reasons as to why they're giving it out! Some examples include -

- so that you're parents can see what you're doing in class. (if I wanted them to know I would tell them)

-so that you can practise more of what you've been doing in class. (oh please, as if we want to sit down and do more equations)

- so that you can go over what you've done in class and anything you find tricky. (yay! more school!)

To be honest they're not bad points to make, but as a typical teenager I frankly don't care. But the thing I really hate is when they dish out bundles of exercises to do over the weekend. Are they trying to make us hate school? Do they want to ruin our weekends so that when we're out having a jolly good time we can't help but worry about the four pages of English we've to write?

Sometimes I don't think teachers realise that we have a life outside school. We have other commitments that also take up our time. For example, my entire Tuesday night is blocked up because of things I do. I literally have about 45mins between the time I arrive home after school and the time I need to leave again. During that time I have to change, possibly shower, eat something and make sure that I've got everything I need to go out. I do not have time to do maths, or history, or physics. By the time I come home at 9, I'm tired and want to watch a bit of T.V. before going to bed. But no. Instead, I have to wander upstairs  and sit at my desk for the next hour and a half working.

Unlike my previous posts I think you may have found this one interesting, and that you may relate to this post in the fact that you too hate homework.

Keep reading!

Liv.

Why rolling down a hill is now a safety hazard.

Dear reader,

Hello again. Ugh, I can’t believe how late it is: 11.04pm. Jesus, I was so confident that I would come home each day, do some stuff and then write this. Well, ha-ha-HA because so far so good, I have been doing that. It just so happens that each time I come to post something new it creeps up later and later. I keep getting distracted but there’s always something there in the back of my mind saying, “Do it, do it! Don’t forget! Don’t let your imaginary fans down!” So I came home after a three and a half hour dance rehearsal (of which I did less than I would have hoped…)  watched two episodes of Glee and now here I am.

So it took me a while to think of something to say, and then it hit me: what is the reason for my complete inability to use my nose today? Hmm, let me think. Oh yeah, HAYFEVER. The word makes me sick. Quite literally; I went through the equivalent of about three packs of tissues today.

You just can’t win! I mean, come on! Winter passes and you think, “Yass, the cold’s finally gone away,” and then you have about a month and a half where your nose is neither frozen, blocked of running. (Hehe, joke coming up: What do you do if your nose is running? … Run after it.) THEN Spring/Summer arrives, the pollen count shoots up and bam, we’re back where we started.

If you’re reading this and laughing in my face – well, the computer screen anyway – then stop it. There was a time where I was hayfever-free and could happily play on the awesome hill outside the house without sneezing or my eyes puffing up… then I turned seven and it all went downhill. (See what I did there? Eh? Eh?) And now every morning I have to take a tablet and then remember to out in eye drops four or five times throughout the rest of the day. Fun.

Well, thanks for bearing with today’s rant. It felt good to let it all out. Oh, and happy Friday.

Liv.

Squelch squelch *wedgie!* squelch squelch

Dear reader,

Haha! I'm proud, I stuck to my goal and have so far written a new post every day. Well, considering my first post was yesterday its not much of an achievement... hmm.

That's not the point of this post though. Two words for ya guys, two words - sun SHINE!!! Yes that's right, this week has been one of the few days out of the year where people in Glasgow get their taps aff and toes oot cos thank God it's SUMMER!!! 

So, waking up and looking out my window I was practically blinded by the sun streaming in, then realised I got up half an hour later than I should have and rushed to get dressed. I am not a morning person. *yawns* Anyway, feeling all summery and happy I threw on my short sleeved shirt, skirt and (wait for it) tights. Yep, tights. Believe it or not my school has it written down as part of the school regulations that tights must be worn by girls all year round as part of the school uniform. How frigging annoying! I mean come on man! Don't get me wrong, the school itself is great. But the fact that the only time at school where I'm allowed to wear socks is at P.E. kind of bugs me. Especially when it's 27 degrees outside so that when I stand up to hand out a sheet in class, the lower half of my body feels damp. In the winter its great, but they should bend the rules so that we can allow our legs to BREATHE!!!

I'm really grateful that we can wear short sleeved blouses after the February break instead of long sleeved shirts with a tie though. At least the upper half of my body isn't damp. 

That's all for today, oh and if any of my teachers are reading this, sorry, but it's one of my human rights to peaceful protest. 

Liv.

Introducing the blog

Dear reader,

Hello! Welcome! There's not much to say really, I'm a person with things to say, and I've found a place to say them.

I run another blog called A Day in the Life ( link here) where I create a character, maybe from someone I saw on the bus or in the street, and I give them a life and a story. It's relatively new, so not much is up, but I hope you'd give it a look to see if it's something you'd be interested in.

As far as this blog is concerned, I don't really know what it is. I used to have it narrowed down to me just having somewhere to rant about things that frustrate me, but I think I'm going to make it more general now, where I'll babble about whatever comes to mind. Could be books, could be films, an exciting incident or just... yknow... me. We'll see.

Hope to see you back here soon!

Keep reading,

Liv.