We don’t need no education – which is a bloody good job because you can’t teach for shit

We’ve all had them – the teachers who couldn’t teach a fish to swim, teachers who have a personal vendetta like you murdered their own beagle and the teachers who just don’t give a fuck. They’re a pain in the arse – especially when you’re intelligent enough to know just how bad they are and when they’re compromising your bright future with a rain cloud of despair.

Here are my top tips of how to deal with it:

1.     Don’t complain

Take it from a girl whose tried; it gets you fucking nowhere. The system doesn’t want you to cause ripples – especially when you’re the only one with the backbone to cause them. Shit teaching, sadly, isn’t a crime and it’s nye on impossible to get concrete evidence to back you up for it. After all, you’re just a lowly uneducated student, what do you know? So, in short, suck it up – it really isn’t worth it. Suffering in silence is the best way to go I’m afraid.

2.     The internet is your friend

I’m sure you already know that the internet is the best friend you’ll ever have when it comes to knowledge. Whether it’s wiki answers for your past paper questions or Sparknotes to brush up on some good ol’ Shakespeare, the internet can do a far better job than most teachers ever could. Take your notes from there and it should help. Self-taught people probably do better in the long-run anyway, or so I keep telling myself. So let the world wide web guide you to the answers of the Universe (although Wikipedia is like a mine field of wild lies so handle that shit with caution).

3.     Channel that anger productively

Refrain from throwing the table or gorging your teacher’s eye out with the nearest Bic if you can help it, the education in jail is probably marginally better but if Orange is the New Black has taught me anything it’s that prison politics are a bitch so save yourself the trouble. Try taking up a Boxercise class and punch it out to your heart’s content (my personal method of choice) or try creating something worthwhile – for example a raging poem, an aggressive song...a online rant...ehem...*shifty eyes*

4.     Get some perspective

Look, you might have to deal with this scum-bag of a school teacher for another year, maybe two, but in the long run, they aren’t going to matter. They aren’t going to dominate your entire life and shit, they might even teach you how to tolerate the people who do, or will in the future. Just think of it this way – they may not be teaching you what you want to be taught, but they’re teaching you restraint. They’re teaching you life isn’t fucking fair and sometimes you have to make the best of a bad situation and that’s okay because you’ll be stronger for it. Trust me, I’ve learnt a lot this year, and apparently I’m gonna have to learn a lot more next year as well but once you’re resigned to it, make some fucking lemonade out of those lemons.

On a lighter note I finished my AS level exams today *cue party streamers and colourful mammals falling rapidly from the heavens* Ah yes, the sweet smell of freedom...granted it was short lived but it was a sniff of victory none the less.

If you were gay, that would okay, I mean ‘cause hey, it kinda looks awesome anyway

So with the Winter Olympics in Sochi in full-force at the moment, there’s been only one thing on people’s minds. And no, it’s not ‘Why the fuck is curling even a thing?’

Everyone’s been thinking about the gays.

Now, I being someone who thought a lot about gays anyway (bless you M rated fanfiction) has to wonder why hatin’ on the gays is even happening. I mean what the fuck? How could anyone hate homosexuals simply for their people preference? 

I mean, don’t get me wrong – I for one am loving the way the World joined jazz hands to shove iridescent rainbows down Vladimir Putin’s throat until he weeps glitter, but the fact that we even have to is absurd. 

It’s a lot of fun, but I really wish it was unnecessary. 

And also, I kinda wish that I was gay.

Wow. Yep so I just admitted that. 

Just to clear the air though, I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not.

...I think I should start explaining.

Basically, I like males. I don’t want to say I’m 100% straight because my friends and I discuss this frequently and have reached the decision that practically no one is 100% straight. I consider myself about 98% straight right now. That could well change in the future, but as of the here and now I like the D.

...Well not the D so much as the person who pilots the D. Depending on the person – look let’s just say I like the package deal of some individuals with the D alright? I could hate the actual D itself, I haven’t much experience with them other fleeting glances on Omegle and I can genuinely say that wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

Anyway, as much as I like males, they also piss me off. Collectively I mean (always exceptions) and from what I’ve gathered men and women often complain about the opposite gender quite a lot.

Angry snarls of “Men!” or “Women!” seem to be excessively used by both sides on the grounds that the opposite gender just ‘Don’t understand’ or are ‘Impossible!’

...So if men and women understand their own genders way more than the opposite one...then why aren’t more people gay?

“Because of procreation and the human drive to reproduce!” I hear the scientists shout.

“Because God said Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve!” I hear the babbling Bible bashers screech.

“Because the sex isn’t as satisfying!” I hear absolutely no one shout, because if someone was ignorant enough to do so I would actually hit them with a hefty wad of fanfiction and tell them to get a fucking education because even I as a 17 year old virgin know that sex depends on the people having it, not their bloody genders.

...And yes if anyone was wondering I have read so much gay male fanfiction that I sometimes wish I was a gay male so I could try out my slick new moves but then I remember that I love being female and that the world probably wouldn’t be able to handle a gay male me anyway. I’d be like Zachary Quinto’s and Neil Patrick Harris’ gay love child but even sexier. I know.

Back to the procreation point – the World is overpopulated anyway; why not have a lower birth count? The gays can adopt some stray orphans instead of popping out another bundle of neediness and then everyone’s happy! Little orphan Annie gets some sparkly new parents and we survive another few years without the human population getting so high that the only solution is a massive scaled Hunger Games or all out war. Seriously man – at the rate we’re going in a few years time people will literally be stabbing each other over a pot of rice pudding because food will be that scarce. Rice pudding! I mean, who even really likes that shit? (Me).

Now, about that ‘Adam and Eve’ bull-crap. I’m not religious but even I know Jesus wasn’t out to thwart the homosexual agenda. I’m pretty sure he never said shit about gays to be honest. And if we’re going to start looking closely at the Bible, I could literally point out a billion plot holes without batting an eyelash. I mean, were Adam and Eve even married before they did the do? I’m fine if you’re religious but please, leave the gays out of your daddy issues. 

Anyway, being gay isn’t a life choice. If it was I would have picked that option long ago. But it’s not; it’s not something you can force on people and it’s not something you can stop. It’s just there and people need to accept that because personally, I think being gay looks pretty fun.

But alas, as much as I’d like to be, I’m not gay, I’m not bi, I’m not pan, I’m not asexual – right now, I’m pretty damn straight so I’m going to have to get on with it.

Maybe in a few years I’ll find a man that’s perfect for me, and I’ll laugh at how I wanted to be gay like the way I wanted to be a tiger when I was six.

Or maybe in a few years I’ll find a woman that I love and find out new things about myself and go “Huh, what do you know? I like the V.”

Or maybe I’ll realise fictional characters are the only ones people I’ll ever truly love.

Oh my god that’s it....

...I’m Ficsexual.

And that my friends, is the gospel truth.

(Also holla, it’s my birthday! And how am I beginning my 17^th year on this Earth I hear you ask? I’m bedridden and sick as a dog eating midget gems and writing about wanting to be gay. Fabulous.)

Hell yeah - self-worth bitches!

Okay, let me tell you a thing: teenagers are self-obsessed. There, I said it. The truth is sprawled out in spread-eagle position ready to be gazed upon in shock and awe. We always think about ourselves, even when thinking about others. 

“Wow, that boy’s hella fine – I want him to snog me.”
“Wow, she’s got nice shoes – I want them.”
“Wow, that’s a fine looking balloon you have there small child – I require it so I can feel young and free once more.”

...Actually the last one’s a lie; when I see small children with balloon’s my chest kinda constricts a lil’ bit because I imagine it flying away and that fills me with such sorrow because it feels like a metaphor for my hopes and dreams slipping away in the breeze.

Anyway, ehem, sorry I got a bit caught up with myself there, and guess why – self-obsessed. 

But thing is... it’s not always in a positive way and that’s when things start to become unhealthy.

Sure, there are people who are vain; who love themselves so much that they’re magnetised to every reflective surface in a 5 mile radius, but there’s also the other type.

The type who are self-obsessed because they don’t think they’re good enough. Pointing out their own imperfections at every given opportunity, telling themselves they aren’t worth shit, telling themselves they’re stupid or fat or ugly or just not normal. 

We tell ourselves that we’re inferior.

Notice that oh-so-subtle shift in perspective I just did there?

Yeah, the collective ‘we’ is significant. Because I’m throwing myself into that darkened pool of doubt. And I’m throwing you in there too because I’m 99% sure that if you’re reading this, you’ve experienced those niggles. You know, that voice you can hear whispering sometimes – dredging up all your insecurities: every harsh word in your direction, every cold look, every rejection or moment of crippling embarrassment and shoving it back in your face as if to say “Look at yourself and tell me you aren’t disgusted.”

And yes, that voice is awful. It’s a really shitty voice to be honest. I don’t even know where it comes from. That symphony of self-doubt.

In fact, I’m gonna name it Steve, just for the Hell of it. 

Steve-the-symphony-of-self-doubt.

 I could call it Smeagol but then I’m just imagining myself in a loin-cloth eating a raw fish which is a massive no.

That really isn’t the point – the point is that you need to tell your own Steve to shove a fucking poker up its ass and sit the heck down because you don’t need that kinda shit in your life.

What more teenagers need to start realising is that they are worth it.
 
You are worth it.

But now I’m gonna tell you another thing. Prepare your brain matter.

Once you do finally start realising that you are fucking awesome, you hit another problem.
You start saying “Wait a second...if I’m so awesome, then how come I didn’t get that job that one time? How come that person picked someone else over me? How come no one tells me how fucking fantastic I am when I do all this great stuff for them?”

And that’s the thing.

Teenagers are self-obsessed remember? They don’t have time to focus on telling you how great you are because they’re too busy trying to convince themselves of that fact. 24/7.
It’s a vicious, vicious cycle. 

We all have to keep telling ourselves that we’re awesome so much, that we never have time to tell anyone else how awesome they are.

And that my dear readers, has got to change.

We need to stop being so self-obsessed. We should start showing other people that we appreciate them; especially other teenagers because, as I have already established, the majority of us pretty much hate ourselves more than the World collectively hates Justin Bieber. 

So here is my proposition: at least once a day, show someone that you value them.
 It doesn’t have to be some sort of grand gesture like taking them on a scenic cruise of the Bahamas or dancing about their kitchen with a lute singing ‘That’s what friends are for’ but just do something; anything.  

Granted, they might be a little freaked at first. They might react by saying something along the lines of “Dude, are you high?” or “I just threw up a little in my mouth” but don’t let that stop you. Channel your inner hippie. Show the love man.

Show.

The.

Love.

But not physical contact unless they’re cool with that shit; don’t just leap on your friend out of the shadows and squeeze them half to death whispering how nice their hair scent is today and asking if that’s watermelon you smell because that leads to restraining orders and deep-seated fear. Fact.

I’m not really sure how to finish this rant to be honest.  I think I’m gonna do so with this video because this man sorta helped inspire me to do this rant and I just want to unofficially thank him for that:
http://thatfineline.tumblr.com/post/76860086397
(also yes, the link is on my tumblr page because yes, I typed in ‘Man being nice’ into Youtube and it came up with some very mixed results...)

P.S. I might have been slightly drunk on Southern Comfort and sorrow when I wrote this so sozzle if it's a bit...ya know...non-sensical. 

Valentines ahead, people get blue, but hold your head high, because I believe in you

The merry month of Feb is a many splendid thing. T’is a month of brisk winter air, mysterious extra days popping up out of the blue, birthdays (mine and Tom Hiddleston’s both) and the new year begins to finally feel like it’s getting into swing. Why on Earth could anyone possibly dread February?

Oh yeah.

Valentine’s day. *Cue dramatic thunder and lightning sequence*

As you may know, this controversial holiday occurred just yesterday and I have heard many mixed emotions about the subject over the span of my natural life. “It’s so sweet and romantic” is the phrase you may assume crops up most frequently, and of course, some people do in fact feel that way. ...These same people may be an innocent and unassuming clan of god-like figures blessed with chiselled good looks and socialite skills even Nigella Lawson could envy, but still some do feel that way.

Most of us though (singletons and couples alike) just seem to think it’s a waste of bloody time. Either that or it makes people ridiculously depressed so that no one but Adele is happy; cackling manically as she rakes in the dough tainted with the bitter tears of lonely hearts scattered far and wide. 

Seriously though – it’s madness. People perfectly content on the single-pringle lifestyle turn white as a sheet as the day creeps closer. They become absolutely frantic – they must find a date. They must not be alone even if it’s just for this singular day. They must not let society see them as strong, independent and perfectly happy individuals because that is, quite simply *Lemongrab voice* UNACCEPTABBLLLEEE!

Personally, I don’t mind it when couples want to make a big thing of Valentine’s day. That’s perfectly fine; they can go off and do lovey-dovey shit riding on a majestic swan across a lake of love and adoration. What pisses me off is when the rub that fucking swan in every single person’s face and tell them that they are inferior just because they aren’t loved by someone else which by the way is a god damn filthy lie. Just because you aren’t with someone doesn’t mean you aren’t loved or valued. I love and value tonnes of people – doesn’t mean I have to stick my tongue down their throats and throw a soppy card at them to show it. And even if you don’t think anyone else loves you – fuck society and learn to love yourself, because honestly, that’s the most important thing.

And just between you and me...*beckons you closer and whispers* having a valentine isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Gasp, wow, look at that – the glass case of pretence has been shattered. It’s true though – wait, you want an example? Fine; my sister has been planning Valentine’s day for weeks. Bear in mind here that she is at the tender age of thirteen and this shadow has been looming over her head for weeks when all she should be worrying about is whether she has enough time to finish her maths homework and build her Sims a new mansion within the same evening (if kids these days don’t play the Sims any more then there is no hope for the younger generation at all). But no. Instead she’s been trekking about town in search of the perfect man-bracelet for her boyfriend and been getting her friends to drop heavy hints onto the oblivious boy’s thick skull that yes, valentine’s day is on the 14^th and yes, he should be getting her a present.

So yesterday my sister dressed up in her very best attire, waltzed out to school – card, hopes and dreams in hand – to go and greet the love of her life.

Needless to say he’d forgotten.

But still, she did not despair. I passed them in the corridor holding hands and smiling sweetly amongst the sea of youths looking like they had not a care in the world. That night she assured me he was giving her the present later and that he was picking her up at 4.30 precisely. 

She was picked up at 5.00. By his mother. 

Just his mother.

And her long-awaited present was a cheap teddy and chocolates. Bought by his mother at the Spar on the way over.

Oh, and instead of hanging out with her, her beau spent half the time playing Skyrim without letting her have a go once.

And still, she says she loves him. Bless.

...I give it another month before the entire thing collapses like a poorly-baked gingerbread house but that’s just my humble opinion.

I on the other hand (a single, boyfriend-less female whose first and last valentine’s day card was received at the tender age of eleven who would be expected to lock herself away in a cold, dark basement and wail at the walls about my lack of a love life and the deep chasm of despair that must be eating away at me inside) had a great night. 

My friend Jack held a small gathering of six at his abode and we just talked, ate and watched funny films deep into the early hours of the morn. Everyone there was single. Everyone there was happy. It wasn’t awkward or filled with long wistful moments of contemplation on the emptiness of our romantic exploits that day. It was actually pretty darn great – by far the best Valentine’s day I’ve had yet. 

So basically, being in a couple isn’t the be all and end all. Even if you’re feeling down or like you really need someone to run their fingers through your hair and whisper kind words in your ear whilst you snuggle up close to steal their body heat, try to remember that romance isn’t everything. Love comes in many different forms and at many different times in your life. If you’re broken up about a lost love, remember that whoever it is that broke your heart, they don’t rule over your life. 

Only you can rule over your life. You can’t always rule over your heart however. You’ll probably fall in love many times in the future, and a lot of the time it probably won’t work out but that’s okay, because the only person who really matters is you and sometimes I think we forget that.

And anyway, there’s always one good thing that comes out of Valentine’s day.

Discount chocolate on the 15^th. HELL YES!