I have gone and done it again. Another celebrity crush has formulated in me. This time, it's my second American. Darren Criss is the name he goes by, and every time I see it, my mind slips into the endless fantasies that have made themselves known these last few days.
You see, I never really knew about him. Yeah, I watched A Very Potter Musical last year, but I didn't see him really. I was really looking at the whole thing. Then, my heart didn't run wild. It was a tame thing, really. Now I have to try and lock it up- and watch all my defences break down in mere seconds. However, now I have got into watching Glee and looking at all the actors and actresses in it and their lives, I realise how much I like him. True, I am not as obsessed as some other fans (cue the video of him getting pulled off stage during a live performance by a fan), but I could get so much worse. I haven't got a poster of him stuck on the back of my door (that is reserved for Mr. Tennant and his TARDIS, my GoApe certificates and artwork), mainly due to me not finding a shop in which they sell them. Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Having now got into graphic making, I find myself making more wallpapers. I thereby made one of all the lovely men I have fallen for. I had to have six so there weren't any blank spaces. That was a real struggle. I had to be a REALLY big fan of them for them to go on my wallpaper. I got four. Then I ran out of ideas. Alex Pettyfer- yup, like him, Tom Felton- *faint*, Tyger Drew-Honey- gorgeous and the latest addition of Darren Criss. I then got stuck. I racked my memory and pulled out Chord Overstreet. That still left one more. I couldn't put in a picture of Mr. Cute as I possess no pictures of him. Mr. Completely Adorable- the same issue. Mr. Right... Oh... I know where there are pictures of him, but I don't think I could cope with looking at him every day. So I was left with a picture of Mr. Tennant and his TARDIS. Why? I have absolutely no idea. I liked him at one stage in my life, but not now. So I had my six men- but six seemed so many. Then I remembered it was only really five. Five isn't such a bad number. I will just suffer heartache five more times then your average person. And why is that so bad if your heart skips a beat five times more than that of your average person?
So I am lying awake the day after I lay down. I have been lying here for hours- more than I care to count. The silence is occasionally broken by the passing car. The song is still playing through my mind on a seemingly endless loop. The song that is my new favourite song. The song that is my new emotional song. The song that reduces me to tears by the end. In a way, when I listen to it, I don't want it to end. It is such a beautiful song that I fell in love with it before the singing even began. It fills my heart with an instant burst of warmness. I can't help but sing along. And me singing along makes it personal. And making it personal makes it even harder to resist the tears. Not that it was easy in the first place.
I am one of life's criers.
I will break down when the little things stack up. I will cry when I injure myself. I will cry when I think too much about Mr Right. I will cry when I remember how much of my life I have spent in love and how I felt when I realised they had found their love- and it wasn't me. I cry because it is never me. I cry because I think it never will be me. I cry because it reminds me I am full of emotion and human. I can't think now. I have started again.
And I have heard a rumour going around part of my year that I 'play for the other team'. I have really nothing to say to these people. They haven't read this blog and I have no intention for them to. They have no idea what I go through every day. They have no idea -at all- what it means to be me. If I talk to the source (and I know who it is), then what good will that do? It will probably just enhance the rumours. If I back myself up, it will just be twisted and used against me. So I just cannot be bothered with them. It is a stupid rumour. Everyone that knows me knows that I am definetely not. I am pretty sure of my sexuality at the moment -but you never know- it may change. Whatever. They clearly have no hope of a love life and so choose to try and put down someone else's potential. They are just sad. A sad person that preys on other people to ignore the fact that no-one likes them in a loving way. And I know who I am. I am me. I am still hopelessly in love with Mr. Right. It hurting me and tearing me apart, but I love the feeling after this. It reminds me I am more alive then The Source. My heart still beats with something other than spite.
I love how it hurts.
Tuesday 4 October 2011
Wednesday 21 September 2011
The weight blob -sorry- blog
I have been told that I am not fat and to stop saying that I am. By a boy telling you that, it doesn't make you any more confident in yourself. At least, it doesn't for me. He has no idea what size means nowadays. It basically says: if you want what I define as a good-looking guy, you need to be a twiglet. A twiglet in skinny jeans and a low cut top, or basically a dress with very little fabric used where the pounds needed to buy it is higher than the amount of pounds that makes up you.
I went into Hollister recently. This may not seem that big if you have never been anywhere near that kind of shop. They need to rethink their USP. It should be "Seriously anoexic? You will manage to fit into a S in our shop! But not an XS. You have to be a skeleton to reach that level.". I managed -just about- to fit into a large. Thinking back, I realise how optimistic I was to think I would fit into a so-called 'Medium'. I queued for about 45 minutes to be served by this tall, skinny man in his early twenties in a shirt and trousers. I spotted a female colluege of his in VERY short shorts and a strappy top, showing off their flat stomach. A very sexist shop. Or maybe just focused on its image? Either way, it makes me think that women need to focus on their appearance to get noticed. Makeup is part of it, but I think that size is everything.
Imagine you are in a fight, with one side trying to destroy the other. If it is between two average males in my area, they will fight until the end. If it is between two average females in my area, they will throw insults at eachother, until the final, destroying blow is dealt.
"Fat!"
That word can kill.
Either emotionally it can break them down to tears, or force them to starve themselves.
Note, when people say "Wow! You look great!", they are normally going to finish that by saying "Have you lost weight?"
It is never
"Well done! You've put on a bit since we last met, great job!"
Why not? Why can't we praise people for not jumping with their pencil legs on the bandwagon?
I read in a newspaper a while back that we are getting fatter as a nation. Alongside and article about how a girl got a letter that she was overweight, and when you look at her, she doesn't look it. I hope they did BMI as opposed to weight alone. But muscle weighs more than fat. So very fit people are branded 'heavier' than people that are the opposite. I would hate to get that letter. Just to get told that by a load of text... It sounds horrible. No wonder they complained. Don't tell people that they're overweight. Teach them what it means (but don't exaggerate it for the considering anorexic person) and let them do anything if they want. Have tastier, healthier food in canteens. They don't want rabbit food. Potato salad with a salad for dessert and fruit juice? That's mad.
I looked into some celebrity wives. Models. Skinny models is what came up most. The celebrity may not even be that good-looking but they have got a girlfriend that seems to equal the couple out as 'average looking'. I have no chance of being a model. I lost a load of weight when I was away and got wolf-whistled at, but they just help my point. No one looks twice at you when you are a size 10 or above. If you dip below that, you are suddenly popular. Well sorry. I'm not going to sacrifice my health for my modelling career.
If you're on the average side- good for you! If you exercise as well- fab! If you eat sensibly without being obsessed- take a gold star sticker and give yourself a pat on the back. Don't listen to the media. Listen to your health and you. Balance the two and you will feel great. I assure you. I've tried to do that all my life.
I went into Hollister recently. This may not seem that big if you have never been anywhere near that kind of shop. They need to rethink their USP. It should be "Seriously anoexic? You will manage to fit into a S in our shop! But not an XS. You have to be a skeleton to reach that level.". I managed -just about- to fit into a large. Thinking back, I realise how optimistic I was to think I would fit into a so-called 'Medium'. I queued for about 45 minutes to be served by this tall, skinny man in his early twenties in a shirt and trousers. I spotted a female colluege of his in VERY short shorts and a strappy top, showing off their flat stomach. A very sexist shop. Or maybe just focused on its image? Either way, it makes me think that women need to focus on their appearance to get noticed. Makeup is part of it, but I think that size is everything.
Imagine you are in a fight, with one side trying to destroy the other. If it is between two average males in my area, they will fight until the end. If it is between two average females in my area, they will throw insults at eachother, until the final, destroying blow is dealt.
"Fat!"
That word can kill.
Either emotionally it can break them down to tears, or force them to starve themselves.
Note, when people say "Wow! You look great!", they are normally going to finish that by saying "Have you lost weight?"
It is never
"Well done! You've put on a bit since we last met, great job!"
Why not? Why can't we praise people for not jumping with their pencil legs on the bandwagon?
I read in a newspaper a while back that we are getting fatter as a nation. Alongside and article about how a girl got a letter that she was overweight, and when you look at her, she doesn't look it. I hope they did BMI as opposed to weight alone. But muscle weighs more than fat. So very fit people are branded 'heavier' than people that are the opposite. I would hate to get that letter. Just to get told that by a load of text... It sounds horrible. No wonder they complained. Don't tell people that they're overweight. Teach them what it means (but don't exaggerate it for the considering anorexic person) and let them do anything if they want. Have tastier, healthier food in canteens. They don't want rabbit food. Potato salad with a salad for dessert and fruit juice? That's mad.
I looked into some celebrity wives. Models. Skinny models is what came up most. The celebrity may not even be that good-looking but they have got a girlfriend that seems to equal the couple out as 'average looking'. I have no chance of being a model. I lost a load of weight when I was away and got wolf-whistled at, but they just help my point. No one looks twice at you when you are a size 10 or above. If you dip below that, you are suddenly popular. Well sorry. I'm not going to sacrifice my health for my modelling career.
If you're on the average side- good for you! If you exercise as well- fab! If you eat sensibly without being obsessed- take a gold star sticker and give yourself a pat on the back. Don't listen to the media. Listen to your health and you. Balance the two and you will feel great. I assure you. I've tried to do that all my life.
Monday 27 June 2011
Another Letter, Another Love
To You,
Great news! I got over you after all this time. You have transformed yourself from a perfect, sensitive boy into a complete idiot and an embarassment to yourself. You radiate idiocy to anyone you associate yourself with and I want to stay as far away from that little mine field as possible.
Now. The only reason I say I have got over you is because I have given my heart away to someone else. And this time it is someone I literally CANNOT have. And the age gap is scary. Really scary. But this time, it isn't a celebrity. This person knows me, knows more about me than I know about them. Now, it isn't a case of that person liking me back, it is a case of any feelings being forbidden.
I am confused.
My stupid heart. My stupid, bloody irritating heart. It runs off with who it wants without my consent. I can't stop it. It has this attraction to what it can't have. I shrug my shoulders and wonder when it goes away. Only when I know where it is do I want it back and I cry. I am so over-emotional. I think I just have one of the worst love-lifes ever. Or, more, the absence of one. It does annoy me. But it causes me more pain than anything else.
I am relieved I got over you though. It caused me so much pain over the years. But now it is over. And now it has started again. I hope this isn't as serious as you and I. Not that there ever was a 'you and I'. It is just three words that happen to go together in a sentence..
Now there is Mr. Right. He is a Mr. Wrong to everyone else in perspective of the two of us, but he is my Mr. Right. I seem to have this urge to show-off around him. I have NEVER, ever had that before. And I temporarily forget how to breathe. That has happened before, and I think my lungs must have extreme short-term memory on their bodily function. It reminds me I still like him. It is useful to know, because hopefully -one day- I will get over him, and I hope it will be short and swift. Not last time which was like cycling up a foggy hill. It is a struggle all the way and you get easily tired and wish you could turn back. But then you can free-wheel down. Only then I found that the hill had a ramp that threw me into limbo, suspended in the air like a rag doll, at the mercy of whatever lay at the bottom of the drop. I crashed, what seemed like badly at the time, but I managed to pick myself up and walk home.
In danger of sounding like an Apprentice candidate with all these metaphors, I will move on.
If you are reading this: thank you. It means a lot to me, I never really thought of doing this before. I have a few friends out there that read my blogs, but for those others, it makes me feel very appreciated. So thanks for reading, and no matter what time zone you are in, have a wonderful day/night.
Anyway Mr. Right, I do highly doubt you will read this. I hope you don't, but in case of all eventualities, I am sorry. I didn't choose to fall in love with you. My heart is a free spirit. I try to tether it back but it escapes. If in an even rarer case you know it's you, I hope we can still get on the best we can. But I feel this post is just going to be a voice that is lost in the wind.
Great news! I got over you after all this time. You have transformed yourself from a perfect, sensitive boy into a complete idiot and an embarassment to yourself. You radiate idiocy to anyone you associate yourself with and I want to stay as far away from that little mine field as possible.
Now. The only reason I say I have got over you is because I have given my heart away to someone else. And this time it is someone I literally CANNOT have. And the age gap is scary. Really scary. But this time, it isn't a celebrity. This person knows me, knows more about me than I know about them. Now, it isn't a case of that person liking me back, it is a case of any feelings being forbidden.
I am confused.
My stupid heart. My stupid, bloody irritating heart. It runs off with who it wants without my consent. I can't stop it. It has this attraction to what it can't have. I shrug my shoulders and wonder when it goes away. Only when I know where it is do I want it back and I cry. I am so over-emotional. I think I just have one of the worst love-lifes ever. Or, more, the absence of one. It does annoy me. But it causes me more pain than anything else.
I am relieved I got over you though. It caused me so much pain over the years. But now it is over. And now it has started again. I hope this isn't as serious as you and I. Not that there ever was a 'you and I'. It is just three words that happen to go together in a sentence..
Now there is Mr. Right. He is a Mr. Wrong to everyone else in perspective of the two of us, but he is my Mr. Right. I seem to have this urge to show-off around him. I have NEVER, ever had that before. And I temporarily forget how to breathe. That has happened before, and I think my lungs must have extreme short-term memory on their bodily function. It reminds me I still like him. It is useful to know, because hopefully -one day- I will get over him, and I hope it will be short and swift. Not last time which was like cycling up a foggy hill. It is a struggle all the way and you get easily tired and wish you could turn back. But then you can free-wheel down. Only then I found that the hill had a ramp that threw me into limbo, suspended in the air like a rag doll, at the mercy of whatever lay at the bottom of the drop. I crashed, what seemed like badly at the time, but I managed to pick myself up and walk home.
In danger of sounding like an Apprentice candidate with all these metaphors, I will move on.
If you are reading this: thank you. It means a lot to me, I never really thought of doing this before. I have a few friends out there that read my blogs, but for those others, it makes me feel very appreciated. So thanks for reading, and no matter what time zone you are in, have a wonderful day/night.
Anyway Mr. Right, I do highly doubt you will read this. I hope you don't, but in case of all eventualities, I am sorry. I didn't choose to fall in love with you. My heart is a free spirit. I try to tether it back but it escapes. If in an even rarer case you know it's you, I hope we can still get on the best we can. But I feel this post is just going to be a voice that is lost in the wind.
Wednesday 25 May 2011
Experienced?
I haven't done a blog in a long time, and for that I am sorry. We've had exams after exams with more on the way. Today brought two more ridiculously unnecessary pieces of evidence I really don't care. I couldn't revise as the subject area let my book out of their site so now it has gone AWOL. I cared a little, until my teacher said that I didn't need to revise.
I made a mental note to keep that in my head forever.
Another feeling of deep loss has come over me again. I apologise for another 'code-name', so to speak, but I do like using them. Mr Completely Adorable left three weeks ago. I don't mean left, as in left school. I mean left, as in moved country. I only liked him for a few months and didn't know him that well. In fact I don't think I knew him at all. I never knew his full name. I never knew about him. All I know is I met him occasionally, and that was all.
And he was (and still is) VERY cute.
I thought I didn't like him, my brain was telling me it was ridiculous. But then he said he was leaving, moving to Spain. Adios senõr (I apologise again for my abismal Spanish). I managed to hold it in, wish him luck and get on with my journey. But when I got home I found tears down my face, with no recollection of having passed them. Does that mean I love him? If I know nothing of him but cry about him? If I still wish he would come back? If I wish I could have told him outright that I liked him?
That's the point though. We don't know the future. We don't know what we really feel. Other people know us better than we know ourselves. And that isn't really what I want.
I have got to get a hold of myself. I can't stop myself falling in love, but I have to learn that love isn't worth my tears. As I was told a few years ago "You will meet your perfect person soon enough, and you will know it when you meet them."
I've had four false alarms then. Four totally brilliant, yet heartbreaking, false alarms. Making me more anxious to get to the real thing. It's like exams that matter. You are so mock-test-ed to death you want to get the real thing done so there is no need for another mock. I'm getting impatient. I hate being denied what I want.
Everyone I know has had a boyfriend. Everyone I know has has had their heart broken. Not many people I know, in fact none, have had their heart broken as often or as painfully as me. Still, at least the most broken valuables seem to be worth more than a whole an unbroken valuable.
Why does this keep happening to me. Experience makes you wiser? Hell no! It makes you angry and upset. Experience is a fatal word in a relationship. Or a track record. People don't want players. They want you and know they will have your heart, and you want to know that they will look after it. So don't think going out with as many people as possible is cool or makes you look good. It makes you look like an idiot, and in the end, everyone will hate you.
As I am growing to do. Thank you Mr Cute.
(I have had this stashed away, so it is a little out of date!)
I made a mental note to keep that in my head forever.
Another feeling of deep loss has come over me again. I apologise for another 'code-name', so to speak, but I do like using them. Mr Completely Adorable left three weeks ago. I don't mean left, as in left school. I mean left, as in moved country. I only liked him for a few months and didn't know him that well. In fact I don't think I knew him at all. I never knew his full name. I never knew about him. All I know is I met him occasionally, and that was all.
And he was (and still is) VERY cute.
I thought I didn't like him, my brain was telling me it was ridiculous. But then he said he was leaving, moving to Spain. Adios senõr (I apologise again for my abismal Spanish). I managed to hold it in, wish him luck and get on with my journey. But when I got home I found tears down my face, with no recollection of having passed them. Does that mean I love him? If I know nothing of him but cry about him? If I still wish he would come back? If I wish I could have told him outright that I liked him?
That's the point though. We don't know the future. We don't know what we really feel. Other people know us better than we know ourselves. And that isn't really what I want.
I have got to get a hold of myself. I can't stop myself falling in love, but I have to learn that love isn't worth my tears. As I was told a few years ago "You will meet your perfect person soon enough, and you will know it when you meet them."
I've had four false alarms then. Four totally brilliant, yet heartbreaking, false alarms. Making me more anxious to get to the real thing. It's like exams that matter. You are so mock-test-ed to death you want to get the real thing done so there is no need for another mock. I'm getting impatient. I hate being denied what I want.
Everyone I know has had a boyfriend. Everyone I know has has had their heart broken. Not many people I know, in fact none, have had their heart broken as often or as painfully as me. Still, at least the most broken valuables seem to be worth more than a whole an unbroken valuable.
Why does this keep happening to me. Experience makes you wiser? Hell no! It makes you angry and upset. Experience is a fatal word in a relationship. Or a track record. People don't want players. They want you and know they will have your heart, and you want to know that they will look after it. So don't think going out with as many people as possible is cool or makes you look good. It makes you look like an idiot, and in the end, everyone will hate you.
As I am growing to do. Thank you Mr Cute.
(I have had this stashed away, so it is a little out of date!)
Thursday 28 April 2011
A letter to no-one
To You,
I really do not know how to say this. I loved you. And I still do. Even if you want to pretend I don't exist, please just talk to me. I can still survive, just, if you respect what we could have had and show me your grace and care which made me fall in love with you in the first place.
But you don't know I love you. You don't care about me. You don't give a damn. You just ignore me. I am special, and not in the good way, I know. But the mere fact I am writing this shows that I do care and don't care whether you like it or not. I dream.
In fact, I had a dream recently. That was when I thought I had got over you. I had managed not to think about you for days and I felt happier with myself. But then you appeared in the only place you would. In my dreams. And that is where you and I will stay. Where they will never exist. This dream made me fall head-over-heels in love again. I knew that I never had got my heart back.
So that is why, Yellow Jane, I know you never will get your heart back when you give it away. I gave my heart and what I didn't have, and now I can't cope that he hasn't given me his in return. I want it back. But I know I will not ever get it. You are cute, gorgeous, witty and popular. I am me. And that is why it will never work.
I can't go on kidding myself. I am going mad. The only thing that is escaping my chasm of madness are the tears. They run away from me too. Just like everyone else. No-one can stay with me. They think I am some crazy idiot that talks rubbish. I am not crazy. I am confused and trying to take it all in. I am not coping. And I don't know what to do.
I want help. I want you. Please help me. You don't want me. But I want me. Whatever anyone says, I am still me. I am proud of myself, but I am no longer whole. I want it back. So please give it back to its rightful owner. You will never use it. So why not give it to someone who can?
Never and forever yours,
Phoenix
x
P.S. I know you will not read this. If you do, you won't know it's for you. But I want to tell you after all these years. I am beyond caring. So before I delve deeper into madness, I need you to pull me out.
I really do not know how to say this. I loved you. And I still do. Even if you want to pretend I don't exist, please just talk to me. I can still survive, just, if you respect what we could have had and show me your grace and care which made me fall in love with you in the first place.
But you don't know I love you. You don't care about me. You don't give a damn. You just ignore me. I am special, and not in the good way, I know. But the mere fact I am writing this shows that I do care and don't care whether you like it or not. I dream.
In fact, I had a dream recently. That was when I thought I had got over you. I had managed not to think about you for days and I felt happier with myself. But then you appeared in the only place you would. In my dreams. And that is where you and I will stay. Where they will never exist. This dream made me fall head-over-heels in love again. I knew that I never had got my heart back.
So that is why, Yellow Jane, I know you never will get your heart back when you give it away. I gave my heart and what I didn't have, and now I can't cope that he hasn't given me his in return. I want it back. But I know I will not ever get it. You are cute, gorgeous, witty and popular. I am me. And that is why it will never work.
I can't go on kidding myself. I am going mad. The only thing that is escaping my chasm of madness are the tears. They run away from me too. Just like everyone else. No-one can stay with me. They think I am some crazy idiot that talks rubbish. I am not crazy. I am confused and trying to take it all in. I am not coping. And I don't know what to do.
I want help. I want you. Please help me. You don't want me. But I want me. Whatever anyone says, I am still me. I am proud of myself, but I am no longer whole. I want it back. So please give it back to its rightful owner. You will never use it. So why not give it to someone who can?
Never and forever yours,
Phoenix
x
P.S. I know you will not read this. If you do, you won't know it's for you. But I want to tell you after all these years. I am beyond caring. So before I delve deeper into madness, I need you to pull me out.
Sunday 20 March 2011
It isn't just me
Finally, something that I am passionate about that other people are also passionate about. I have started collecting money for the Comic Relief in two years time. I will only put money in the tin, and the only time it goes out will be when I donate it at the next Comic Relief. I am quite proud of myself. I have steered away from saving up my spare money to buy a laptop or Wii game etc, and instead want to use it to change someone's life.
Then I move onto the raising money part. I have no clue how to raise it, myself being quite a shy person. I was thinking of temporarily dying my hair, in the holidays naturally, to get money, but who would pay to not see that? Most people only do a sponsered silence for a day. I was thinking of doing the full Monty and going for a week. Now that will be fun. Especially during school. And on the phone.
So what can I do to help? This is always what annoys me; I'm not old enough. I want to go out to Africa and meet and help some people there. I want to help a person that has injured themselves in the street, rather than have to walk by, not knowing what to do. I have done about seven first aid courses, but they are rather boring, and never prepare you for the full impact of actually witnessing an injured person. It's all "Elevate the limb" and "Reassure the casualty". How do you reassure the 'casualty'? What if they have numerous injuries? What if they have spinal damage? Do I really put them in the recovery position? And they aren't a casualty. They are a human being, still human, just injured. They don't want a very focused person that tells them nothing and gives them little reassurance. They want you to be human too.
Why not give part of the course on handling with their emotions? That's why I loved one of the courses. True, it did take me a year-and-a-half of weekly sessions, but I learnt loads. Plus I learned how to reassure them. Slightly anyways.
Back to age. They don't want me helping them. They would just take one look at me and go "What do you know, huh?". I want to help. I need to help for my own good. I HATE having to force myself to walk on because I can't help. Please, just accept that. I do want to help. My heart wants to help too. But my brain can't. And unfortunately, my brain controls this whole operation. What it says, I do. Sorry.
Then I move onto the raising money part. I have no clue how to raise it, myself being quite a shy person. I was thinking of temporarily dying my hair, in the holidays naturally, to get money, but who would pay to not see that? Most people only do a sponsered silence for a day. I was thinking of doing the full Monty and going for a week. Now that will be fun. Especially during school. And on the phone.
So what can I do to help? This is always what annoys me; I'm not old enough. I want to go out to Africa and meet and help some people there. I want to help a person that has injured themselves in the street, rather than have to walk by, not knowing what to do. I have done about seven first aid courses, but they are rather boring, and never prepare you for the full impact of actually witnessing an injured person. It's all "Elevate the limb" and "Reassure the casualty". How do you reassure the 'casualty'? What if they have numerous injuries? What if they have spinal damage? Do I really put them in the recovery position? And they aren't a casualty. They are a human being, still human, just injured. They don't want a very focused person that tells them nothing and gives them little reassurance. They want you to be human too.
Why not give part of the course on handling with their emotions? That's why I loved one of the courses. True, it did take me a year-and-a-half of weekly sessions, but I learnt loads. Plus I learned how to reassure them. Slightly anyways.
Back to age. They don't want me helping them. They would just take one look at me and go "What do you know, huh?". I want to help. I need to help for my own good. I HATE having to force myself to walk on because I can't help. Please, just accept that. I do want to help. My heart wants to help too. But my brain can't. And unfortunately, my brain controls this whole operation. What it says, I do. Sorry.
Thursday 24 February 2011
I Just Lost Myself
It's OK, I do it a lot. I don't lose myself in stupid soaps or games, I lose myself in my one true passion and escape- music. Music is my world, my life and my way out. If the day gets tough and I am at home, I sit down at my keyboard (with my headphones in) and play until I think I might never find myself again. I don't sit and play Mozart or Linkin Park (but I do occasionally play a tiny bit of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata), I play what I feel passionate about. I do have piano lessons, but I would never really play those pieces out of choice. I play Doctor Who, Twilight, Take That and attempt to play songs I love by ear.
This brings me onto the music I love and listen to. Going past the stereotypical screaming teenage fan-girl at a concert, I must say I hate concerts. I went to one in 2009 and after feeling I was about to be deafened, I sat outside and listened from there. People of my age around me talk of Justin Beiber, the Jonas Brothers and Tinie Tempah. I'm not even going to bother with spelling. I admire people that write and sing their own songs. And that's why I like Eliza Doolittle. My cousin introduced me to her music and since then her feel-good music has grown on me. I am also quite a big Take That fan. I'm not one of those squealing fans that go to every concert, follow them everywhere and get a tattoo saying "I Love Robbie" or "Back For Good". I just think they have amazing voices and listen to their music.
Going against what people think about 'Modern Music' and going for the young people, I really love Scouting For Girls, Green Day (my favourite!), Rogue Traders (but I only like one song), The Fray and The Hoosiers to name a few. I'm not saying these people are old, but compared to how young some singers are now...
I am now also finding you don't get many 'average' artists. They all seem to be ludicrously good-looking and have as much meat on them as a stick of celery.
I am draw, therefor, to play piano music, where no vocals are needed and I actually know vaguely what I am doing. I also feel that pianos are the most beautiful instrument in the entire world, beside the true and pure human song. I gave up on piano grades, as I don't think music is all about certificates and exams. It is about feeling proud of yourself, and choosing your style.
Music is the answer to everything, and I don't give a damn about the question.
And I would also like to wish 'Yellow Jane' a very happy birthday! :)
This brings me onto the music I love and listen to. Going past the stereotypical screaming teenage fan-girl at a concert, I must say I hate concerts. I went to one in 2009 and after feeling I was about to be deafened, I sat outside and listened from there. People of my age around me talk of Justin Beiber, the Jonas Brothers and Tinie Tempah. I'm not even going to bother with spelling. I admire people that write and sing their own songs. And that's why I like Eliza Doolittle. My cousin introduced me to her music and since then her feel-good music has grown on me. I am also quite a big Take That fan. I'm not one of those squealing fans that go to every concert, follow them everywhere and get a tattoo saying "I Love Robbie" or "Back For Good". I just think they have amazing voices and listen to their music.
Going against what people think about 'Modern Music' and going for the young people, I really love Scouting For Girls, Green Day (my favourite!), Rogue Traders (but I only like one song), The Fray and The Hoosiers to name a few. I'm not saying these people are old, but compared to how young some singers are now...
I am now also finding you don't get many 'average' artists. They all seem to be ludicrously good-looking and have as much meat on them as a stick of celery.
I am draw, therefor, to play piano music, where no vocals are needed and I actually know vaguely what I am doing. I also feel that pianos are the most beautiful instrument in the entire world, beside the true and pure human song. I gave up on piano grades, as I don't think music is all about certificates and exams. It is about feeling proud of yourself, and choosing your style.
Music is the answer to everything, and I don't give a damn about the question.
And I would also like to wish 'Yellow Jane' a very happy birthday! :)
Tuesday 22 February 2011
A Silent Language
I believe the language I am speaking of at this time is the language we can learn most of, and is the most developed, yet we learn more and more every day. I have just begun learning it, and have found it incredibly useful and interesting. I am speaking, of course, about Body Language.
It facinates me greatly and I actually want to learn it. I'm not going to talk with Germans or the French about what sports I did last weekend and what I would wear if I went to a party. I find that if you do trading, then you will find body language much more useful (but beware of the language barrier!). You can tell if someone is lying, what mood they are in and what they think of you before they open their mouth.
Sometimes though, I wish I couldn't tell what people meant. They say "Some things are better left unsaid.". So what do you do if they don't need to say it and you know?
However, I am a LONG way off being perfect. For a start, there are over 750,000 different signs, and I don't even know 50. And even if you do know all of them (getting past your head exploding) then you could easily mistake them and that could in turn affect your reaction.
I am getting the feeling that it is a bit pointless to learn however. We already know what looks shifty, if someone is lying and how people are feeling. It is always nice to know as much as you can though.
Now is probably the time to mention another 'friend' of sorts, who does rather good blogs and you should probably check them out:
Yellow Jane
It facinates me greatly and I actually want to learn it. I'm not going to talk with Germans or the French about what sports I did last weekend and what I would wear if I went to a party. I find that if you do trading, then you will find body language much more useful (but beware of the language barrier!). You can tell if someone is lying, what mood they are in and what they think of you before they open their mouth.
Sometimes though, I wish I couldn't tell what people meant. They say "Some things are better left unsaid.". So what do you do if they don't need to say it and you know?
However, I am a LONG way off being perfect. For a start, there are over 750,000 different signs, and I don't even know 50. And even if you do know all of them (getting past your head exploding) then you could easily mistake them and that could in turn affect your reaction.
I am getting the feeling that it is a bit pointless to learn however. We already know what looks shifty, if someone is lying and how people are feeling. It is always nice to know as much as you can though.
Now is probably the time to mention another 'friend' of sorts, who does rather good blogs and you should probably check them out:
Yellow Jane
Friday 18 February 2011
From a Hopeless Romantic
Before you even get to the 'boyfriends, girlfriends' thing that is all that is spoken about at my age, you get to love. And now I am confused about what love actually is. All I know is that no boy is showing it to me, in a kind of more than friend way. Listening to my mum's Take That album on my iPod (them naturally singing about love) they are basically singing about a beautiful woman that is great at sex. I am not beautiful, and I have no clue about the sex bit, being a young teenage girl and having a sense of dignity.
There are others talking about family love. True, but that love is not optional. You are blood relatives and supposed to love and care.
This brings me nicely onto my next point. All I want is the type of love that family can't give you. The love given out of choice rather than having it put upon you. And so I move onto me. I have never had a proper boyfriend. Ever. Of couse I would like one, but I don't think I would cope if it went wrong, but it all depends on the person.
If you don't understand, I shall explain. There is a cute, funny boy that I have had a crush on for three years. It would tear me apart if I left him. Just the thought of that feeling brings tears to my eyes. However, this boy in question has 'gone out' with four other girls in that time, with up to about 2 month relationships. So not very reliable, saying that if I went out with him it wouldn't last very long. I should have given up ages ago. But I haven't. I try to stop myself crying when I found out about his latest accessory with more fake-tan than skin, but I can't stop it. He goes for the pretty, popular ones. I am neither. All I was worried about in my first year then was work, learning and homework. Finally, I realised that school isn't everything. A good job won't make you as happy as if you have love.
I asked a few of my friends if they would go for love or money. 2 of them said love. The other said money. She is entitled to her opinion, it is true, but I don't think money can make you truly happy.
I read a while ago in The Times Magazine in an article with James May in, that he said teenagers just dream about sex. This has been on my mind for all that time, and I couldn't disagree more. I have been brought up in quite a 'well-off' area, thus have a moral up-bringing. Never had the sex talk yet though. I just dream of being happy, being loved and no more. Love is not one of those things you can get more of. You have to accept what you are given and treasure it, as you can lose it in a second. The most greedy I have got is imagining the impossible love I will probably never get.
There is always your second choice. Of course, you never tell them that, but there is always someone you dream you could love. For a few girls in my form it's Zac Efron and Aston Merrigold. I've had a few celebrity crushes, but they have only ever been much older, about treble my age people. I don't say this to most people, as they don't seem to understand that you can't put an age limit on love.
I accept the fact I have gone incredibly soppy, but Mr Cute is going out with ANOTHER person now, so it's a way of expressing myself.
I also accept that no-one will read my blogs, but I love speaking freely.
There are others talking about family love. True, but that love is not optional. You are blood relatives and supposed to love and care.
This brings me nicely onto my next point. All I want is the type of love that family can't give you. The love given out of choice rather than having it put upon you. And so I move onto me. I have never had a proper boyfriend. Ever. Of couse I would like one, but I don't think I would cope if it went wrong, but it all depends on the person.
If you don't understand, I shall explain. There is a cute, funny boy that I have had a crush on for three years. It would tear me apart if I left him. Just the thought of that feeling brings tears to my eyes. However, this boy in question has 'gone out' with four other girls in that time, with up to about 2 month relationships. So not very reliable, saying that if I went out with him it wouldn't last very long. I should have given up ages ago. But I haven't. I try to stop myself crying when I found out about his latest accessory with more fake-tan than skin, but I can't stop it. He goes for the pretty, popular ones. I am neither. All I was worried about in my first year then was work, learning and homework. Finally, I realised that school isn't everything. A good job won't make you as happy as if you have love.
I asked a few of my friends if they would go for love or money. 2 of them said love. The other said money. She is entitled to her opinion, it is true, but I don't think money can make you truly happy.
I read a while ago in The Times Magazine in an article with James May in, that he said teenagers just dream about sex. This has been on my mind for all that time, and I couldn't disagree more. I have been brought up in quite a 'well-off' area, thus have a moral up-bringing. Never had the sex talk yet though. I just dream of being happy, being loved and no more. Love is not one of those things you can get more of. You have to accept what you are given and treasure it, as you can lose it in a second. The most greedy I have got is imagining the impossible love I will probably never get.
There is always your second choice. Of course, you never tell them that, but there is always someone you dream you could love. For a few girls in my form it's Zac Efron and Aston Merrigold. I've had a few celebrity crushes, but they have only ever been much older, about treble my age people. I don't say this to most people, as they don't seem to understand that you can't put an age limit on love.
I accept the fact I have gone incredibly soppy, but Mr Cute is going out with ANOTHER person now, so it's a way of expressing myself.
I also accept that no-one will read my blogs, but I love speaking freely.
It's Just A Name
It has just occurred to me that I have not explained my name choice properly. I have already said that I am a Whovian (a Doctor Who fan), and the Song part comes from that. I love the image of The Doctor and River Song, so what happened if River had some adopted child? That is where the surname came from.
I also found I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fanfics with my character being part TimeLord (or Lady!). I have also always had a thing about the Phoenix, and as Phoenixes seem to live forever, the name Phoenix and TimeLord combined seemed to work. Thus, Phoenix Song was born (metaphorically speaking).
I have no clue where 'Yellow Jane' comes from, but I am sure they will tell me. :)
I also found I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fanfics with my character being part TimeLord (or Lady!). I have also always had a thing about the Phoenix, and as Phoenixes seem to live forever, the name Phoenix and TimeLord combined seemed to work. Thus, Phoenix Song was born (metaphorically speaking).
I have no clue where 'Yellow Jane' comes from, but I am sure they will tell me. :)
First Time Flyers
So here I am with my first blog. Ever. I've never done a blog in my life for fun. I have no clue what to say in this, so I will begin at the best place, the beginning and about me.
I am a teenage girl in Hertfordshire. That's all I will say as of age and location. I am a Doctor Who and medical drama fangirl. I spend a bit of my spare time researching medical terminology and browsing Wikipedia and YouTube for famous actors. Having a famous actress of her time in the family, it does make adults say your name casually, then look at it and question you.
My real name is not Phoenix Song, it is a name I seem to have grown to use over the web. I do think it is a totally awesome name though! :D
I am not a popular person, and never had much luck with boys. I think this may be for the best though, seeing as most of the boys at my school are completely bonkers. :)
I seem to be a bit of a Casualty geek, sitting there watching from series 12 up to 24 during the summer holidays. For any other old time casualty viewers out there, my favourite character is Sam Colloby, purely for his kind nature and high spirits. I am a Latrick person too, and think that Ruth and Jay, and Kirsty and Adam should get together again. :)
My blogs may be quite short sometimes, as I may be typing it on my phone and it is a complete nightmare!
Adios!
I am a teenage girl in Hertfordshire. That's all I will say as of age and location. I am a Doctor Who and medical drama fangirl. I spend a bit of my spare time researching medical terminology and browsing Wikipedia and YouTube for famous actors. Having a famous actress of her time in the family, it does make adults say your name casually, then look at it and question you.
My real name is not Phoenix Song, it is a name I seem to have grown to use over the web. I do think it is a totally awesome name though! :D
I am not a popular person, and never had much luck with boys. I think this may be for the best though, seeing as most of the boys at my school are completely bonkers. :)
I seem to be a bit of a Casualty geek, sitting there watching from series 12 up to 24 during the summer holidays. For any other old time casualty viewers out there, my favourite character is Sam Colloby, purely for his kind nature and high spirits. I am a Latrick person too, and think that Ruth and Jay, and Kirsty and Adam should get together again. :)
My blogs may be quite short sometimes, as I may be typing it on my phone and it is a complete nightmare!
Adios!
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