I’ve mentioned this in several posts before- but I’m a teenager who isn’t built for this generation. My ‘selfie’s’ are awkward and I could never imagine posting a posey photo of myself. The concept of a hashtag is foreign and I’ve never really been into Twitter or Instagram. I don’t think there is anything wrong with these social media platforms, and I’ll never judge you for posting your selfie- I’ll just never understand the premise behind it all. I believe that once, social media was a tool for storing memories and sharing photos taken with friends and family. Now I think this meaning has changed, and I can’t help but see a platform of insecurity, and I can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad thing yet. I live in a generation where people live for followers and getting more than 100 likes on a photo. I’ve seen people post a photo that has a happy memory behind it, only to have them take it down because it only received twenty likes in the first five minutes. When people ask why I don’t post on social media like the other teenagers in my generation, I don’t really have a clear answer for them. They assume it’s an insecurity- but I wouldn’t say I am not a particularly insecure person. If anything, I would say that part of my reluctance to post on social media arrises not on the judgment of how I look, but more on the judgement that I had the audacity to keep a photo online when it only received two likes. The biggest issue I have with a lot of social media is the hollowness of it all. I’m bored of seeing the same selfie after selfie, with with the unchanging face, no intermission of a fun silly photo with friends. What’s the point? Growing up with a large age gap between my siblings, maybe my distance with social media is based on my upbringing, where to my elder siblings the concept of ‘likes’ and ‘selfie’s’ is equally as foreign a concept.I miss the fun in a lot of people’s photos. I’m traditional in thinking that photo’s should be linked to a memory and not just a good hair day. But who am I to say what a photo means? Maybe there’s some deep meaning or reason for a selfie and I’m just too old for my age!
I’m what you might call, a bit of an awkward person. I’ve never quite seemed to fit into the grain of ‘normality’ is society. You might say weird, I prefer the term ‘quirky’ (although let’s face it, those words mean the same thing). Consequently, this means that I’m always the one with the go to humiliating story, or the one that silences the conversation in the room when I take a joke too far. ‘Awkwardness’ often has the habit of branching out of my personality into my appearance and my laugh which has been described as a ‘contagious cackle’.
My curly hair is awkward, always acting like a hormonal teenager. Some days it will behave and curl in the way that I want it to, but most of the time it tells me to go f*** myself, sticking out like a mane. And then there’s these bad boys…
The epitome of awkward are glued to my teeth. My eighteen year old awkward teeth, that were too awkward to push the baby teeth out by themselves, so they had to be removed. I thought the laugh was bad, pair that with a metal mouth and the manic hair, you have yourself a meth-head who needs to be sectioned. It’s needless to say, that making new friends at university this year was a worrying prospect. Who wants to befriend the awkward drug addict? Somehow I got through it, although I spent my freshers year doing that awkward close-lipped smile, that never really looks sincere.
Wow. This was meant to be a post to other awkward older people with braces, to tell them that being an awkward metal mouth isn’t so bad. I’m sorry, I’ve probably just scared you to death. Don’t rip the metal off so quickly! You’ll be thankful when your teeth are straight in the long run. You’ll also have a lot of room for bags on the bus! After all, who would want to sit next to anyone as awkward as us?
(Drinking game: Shot for every time I wrote awkward)
It turns out that being a student is much more time consuming than one might think! I haven’t posted in a while and I’m sorry for that. But I give to you, my very own version of ‘Blogmas 2014’. This is a challenge where one writes everyday in the lead up to christmas. At the best of times, I have the will power of a sloth, so this will be an interesting experiment for me, as well as a fun way to take time out to do what I love and write! The topic for today: being a grown-up.
I’ve had a taste of independence and I have to admit… it’s pretty terrifying. Yet at age 18 independent is what every teenager is expected to be in England; If you’ve read any of my previous blogs (particularly the ones which document my mental breakdown the day before my birthday), You’ll realise that this societal ‘expectation’ is a touchy topic for me. At university, you’re on your own. Mummy isn’t there to cook your meals anymore! The worst part is realising how much money you spend on food. Throwing away a mouldy slice of bread feels like I’m throwing away my own child. You find yourself buying things you never even knew you had to buy… like cleaning products! I must have thought that magical faeries bought that stuff, and I never fully appreciate how much it cost my parents.
When the university give me my grant, I find myself asking ‘Why are you trusting me with all of this money?… fools! I’m going to Greece!!?’. Then I remember, that they think I’m a responsible grown-up, who understands that without this money, I will become an uneducated hobo. These are the nightmares that make me curl up into a ball of insanity and rock myself to sleep.
But then you step outside the terrifying box of adulthood, and you see how cool university is. It’s basically like summer camp with a lot more essays. You’re surrounded by people of the same age, who hate the concept of adulthood just as much as you do. No-one judges you for being tight (or when you seethe over that 20p you lost… grr!) because they are in the same expensive boat, slowly rocking up a life time debt, that will never be repaid (gotta love the government!).
As I ring my mother, and ask her how to poach an egg, can I truly be considered a ‘grown-up’?
When I have to consult google on how to separate clothing, does society really see me as a ‘grown-up’?.If university has taught me anything (apart from my degree of course), it is that grown up life begins when university ends. Only then can I begin to be terrified.
For a ‘Blogmas’ blog, this post isn’t too festive… On a more Christmassy note, I opened my advent calendar today. No joy is greater than tearing open that tin foil lining.
And they call me a grown up …
You may have heard about it in the papers- the boy who attacked two girls after they called him Harry Potter. (if you are unfamiliar with the story, feel free to visit the link below.)
One cannot deny that Ryan Walkers actions were violent and immoral, as he brutally beat and cut the faces of two teenage girls, landing him a 4 year prison sentence… but after reading the article, I couldn’t help but feel that justice had not been served.
It turns out that Ryan Walker was a victim of bullying, claiming that he had been persistently harassed by the two teenage girls throughout his school life. Before the attack, they followed him from his block of flats hurling abuse at him, saying he looked like J.K Rowling character ‘Harry Potter’. He took a knife, knowing they would follow him.
It made me question, who was the real victim?
Bullying is something which surround the society I live in, and although I hate to admit it, bullying is often ignored. Adults call it ‘childs play’, and are seemingly blind (or ignorant) to the pain and fear it brings to children.
Suicide from bullying is the third leading cause of death in adolescents and teenagers. Is this what it would take for Ryan bullies to be punished?
Perhaps for the first time, Ryan Walker defended himself, in a questionable way that probably arose from desperation… he was handed a hefty 4 year prison sentence- and the “victim” bullies?
“a scar… that will be there for years.”
What about Ryan’s scars? They aren’t visible to everyone else, but Ryan knows they’re there because he feels the knife slice him on the inside, each time the girls called him “wimp” or “Harry Potter”.
To me, this is injustice at its peak.
An article, that could have been used as a moral message to bullies, instead appears to victimise an already damaged child who has been bullied to breaking point- and then instead of repairing the damaged Ryan, they throw him in jail to be forgotten about.
What message do I receive?
Stand up to a bully and get arrested.
Be a bully and become a martyr.
Physical violence can never be condoned, and i do not deny that the experience must have been terrifying for the girls… but is physical abuse really any different to verbal abuse?
Where are Leah and Emma’s prison sentences?
They roam free, perhaps carrying on to victimise, and push others to breaking point. In the meantime, Ryan will be tryings to repair the internal damage they have inflicted upon him.
But his wounds can’t be healed with stitches.
Featured image: http://jukeboxdc.com/2014/02/pics-teenager-stabs-one-girl-beats-another-because-they-called-him-harry-potter/
The back of the bus, the back of the bus,
the power that lies at the back of the bus!
Alone he sits, arms crossed,
Crown placed firmly on his majestic ‘hoodie’.
The back of the bus,
the domain for the youth!
Alone he sits, earphones in,
as he blocks out the noises that mean nothing to him.
The back of the bus,
Enter if you dare!
Alone he sits, and alone he likes,
He cannot share his throne.
The back of the bus,
No elderly allowed!
Alone he sits, condescending to those at the front,
he dreads the day he will join them.
The back of the bus,
No appeal for me!
Alone he sits, ever so bored,
and all to uphold his social crown.
The back of the bus,
The king needs to leave his throne!
Alone he stands, alone he falls,
his crown and glory tumbling with him.
The back of the bus,
Its king stands and rushes!
Alone he stands, and passes his lowly ‘subjects’,
as we think back to our rule at the back of the bus
The back of the bus, the back of the bus?
The illogical sense of the back of the bus!
It is abnormal for me to be the life and soul of the party…
Often I find myself sitting at the edge of the table, wondering how to start a conversation, or smoothly guide myself into someone else’s… To which I disastrously fail to accomplish
There are something’s about ourselves that we have to hold our hands up to and say “I cannot, and will not ever be able to do this”. And I am holding my hands up. My name is curlysblog, and I am a socially awkward person. Always have been, and always will be.
But all is not lost.
I may not be a verbal wordsmith, and my ill-fated attempts at humour may sink like a lead balloon… But I can always write.
Writing comes to me as easily as breathing, and if I write the wrong thing, I can cross it out. This is a major disadvantage of my verbal inadequacy, as in my panic and hope to uphold the practically deceased conversation, I unwittingly offend everyone who cared to listen in the first place Whoops!
Writing doesn’t come with the pink faced embarrassment that accompanies verbal communication. Writing allows you to make a mistake, and doesn’t laugh at you when you fall on your behind!
Writing allows you to waffle on, and not be interrupted in mid-sentence with a more ‘interesting’ story. Without the wonderful ability to write, no-one would stick around to listen to what I have to say!
Writing lets my opinions be voiced, in the way I want them to be voiced. Without a pen or a keyboard, I would have only been known as the awkward wall-flower who was mistaken for a mute.
Thank you writing, for giving me my voice.
I’ve been nominated for an award? what?! thank you to @Themostlyconfusedteenager for nominating me! I know I won’t win. I am a fairly new blogger, with few followers; but i am grateful for the mostly confused teenager to consider me, and would rather you vote for her (or however this works) as she is honestly a fantastic blogger, her work is so funny, entertaining and passionate. I will leave a link to her page at the end, because everyone deserves to read her work.
There are some rules.
1. Display the award Certificate on your blog.
How embarrassing, I don’t know what this means! Perhaps the picture? I’ll figure it out! For a teenager, I’m pretty hopeless with technology and all it’s lingo!
2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
as aforementioned the mostly confused teenage nominated me. Check out her blog linked at the bottom!
3. Present 15 awards to 15 deserving bloggers
The chosen ones have also been linked. You will also find their wake some blogs at the bottom of this page
4. Leave them a comment to let them know after you have linked them to a post.
Oh I will… >:) I will…
5. Post 7 interesting things about yourself
I’m not a very interesting person… Some say weird, but never interesting!
Well, here we go! Wish me luck!
1. My favourite food is bread. I know what your thinking…
‘This girl is about as interesting A brick wall’
First off, I happen to find brick walls highly interesting! They make me laugh when people walk into them (Brick walls are mean); secondly, my relationship with bread is not completely sane. I only like one type of bread, the tiger one from Sainsbury’s. I will go out of my way to get that bread! Heck! I even got a loaf of the bread for my birthday yesterday!
2. I have been told I have an ‘inappropriate laugh’. So much so, it has destroyed friendships. It doesn’t help that my laugh sounds like a demon crying in pain as it leaves my body.
When someone tells me that a relative dies, my little demons plays up and I start to laugh! Then I can’t stop. Friendship terminated. But it’s not my fault, it my writhing demonic laugh! Let’s call him Bob, because although my laugh has caused me many problems, and don’t want to that’d him, and how can you hate anything called Bob?
3. I hate politicians (here’s looking at you David Cameron). Everyone hates politicians, so I suppose that doesn’t make me interesting. It makes me the same! But it has to go on here because my fingers are typing on their own, and I can’t stop them!
4. My favourite book is ‘The hunger games’! I absolutely love it! My least favourite is twilight. Sorry Twihards, and the lady on youtube who made reaction videos, but I just think its dumb! Unbelievably, I used to like the books, excited for the next one! I even incorporated breaking dawn into one of my art homeworks! Then one day (after reasons why it is dumb coming from my best friend) I had an epiphany. A 109 year old man fall in love with an underage girl, and she accepts it… Because he is pretty. Aww! Gotta love the paedophillia! I could go on, but that my friends is for another blog, as I still have more facts!
5. I am a little bit of an adrenaline junkie. Not so much so, that I would throw myself of a cliff and see if I would survive (another reason why twilight is dumb). But I love nothing more than a good theme park! I have never been to ones outside of England, my favourite is one in London called Thorpe park. I tucking only spending 6 minutes on rides, and the rest of the 6 hours cueing, but I love it! I would really like to try some rides in America, and go sky diving one day. (Oh! And I also love horror movies… Which kinda ties in with the adrenaline thing :/)
6. I’m not scared of much (invincible curlysblog!) apart from needles! I have a crippling fear of needles, and why wouldn’t you!? They are terrifying! Who wants to be stuck with a pointy rod!? I always look like a baby when I go for a blood test, and I start crying when I see the needle! You should have seen me when I had to get injected to have my teeth removed. 7 times! The people in the waiting room must have heard me crying and humming oops I did it again by Britney Spears… Strange that that is my go to panic song…
7. I am a HUGE animal lover. If I didn’t love English so much, I would have wanted to become a vet in the future. I have grown up with pets all my life, but dogs are by far my favourite animals. They are so cute and fluffy! And they comfort you when you’re sad. What isn’t to love?
I remember once, me and my friend brought a injured, flea ridden squirrel home to my parents. They wanted to kill it with a rock. I wanted to take it to the vet! I named him Hammy, because as aforementioned everything is better when it has been named! However, if you find yourself in similar circumstances, DO NOT NAME A DIEING ANIMAL! As soon as Hammy stopped breathing, I found myself crying like a fool, for an animal I met 10 minutes ago. My sister still laughs at me to this day for that incident!
There is a lesson to learn from this. The process of naming can either be a salvation, or a right pain in the butt!
So there you go! I really wish I could write more, I have so many more to share with you! That’s for another blog! Remember to check out the blogs below, and to the 15 I nominate I hope you take up the challenge. Just for fun like I did, or because you want to win. Either Is fine, you all deserve your nomination.
Themostlyconfusedteenager- the blogger who nominated me.
Now my 15 nominees: