| Kids who think they're adults make me hate the world. |
I went to town today. Yes, I do go quite frequently, but I really wanted a new dress. I bought one which has cats on, so it's obviously amazing.
Anyway, I went to Claire's Accessories with my sister. At Claire's, they sell these goody-bags of sale items for £3, you get 10 things from the sale but it's a magical mystery. We were choosing (obviously not looking inside the bags through tiny holes at the top, as if we would) and a girl stood next to me. I nearly puked. She was about seven, no exaggeration, and she had heels on that were bigger than mine (I'm only 5ft, I often wear 2 inch heeled ankle boots so I can see eye to chin with people) and she was wearing mascara, lipgloss and eyeliner.
For God's sake.
I occasionally wear foundation. I would never go out looking like a drag queen prostitute. This girl obviously had no qualms about it, as she pottered around in her heeled knee-boots, black mini skirt, grey furry gilet and grey vest top. Jesus Christ. The mother should be shot. Kids need their youth. When I was seven, I believed that fairies lived behind my bookcase and I was part cat. I didn't think about boys or puberty. I was seven going on eight, not seven going on eighteen.
I think Cardiff's pretty bad for kid-adults. Last year I saw a kid of about 12 wearing a pink leopard print catsuit with suede knee-boots and a clownface. I wish I were kidding. I truly am not. Her friend was nearly as bad, wearing a leather mini skirt and white crop top. Seriously, who do they think they're attracting? Fellow tween boys only care about Kylie Minogue and football, other tweens don't appeal, and any adult attention they get is going to be very much illegal. If I were Gordon Brown, I'd make it a law that anyone under the age of 16 could not dress provocatively. Like I said to my friend, if these girls bend over to pick something up, they'll be pregnant by the time they stand up again, and that's not a good way for our generation to behave. I'm one of the sensible ones. I don't show off leg or boob or midriff. I don't drink or smoke, and I don't put myself in a position (no pun intended) that could make me pregnant. If everyone else did the same, maybe Britain wouldn't be in such a mess.Labels: rant |
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| 10 reasons why I hate Twilight. |
1. Edward's chest is 'incandescent'. Need I say more? His chest is a freaking light source. It glows, as a lightbulb would in a darkened room. How romantic. At least they could sneak around in the dead of night (as vampires are want to do) and not get lost.
2. 'Bella stared at the opaque blackboard'. No shit, Sherlock. I often stare at the transparent one they installed in the Maths block last week.
3. What Bella and Edward have is essentially an abusive relationship. A do-as-I-say-because-if-you-don't-you-get-eaten relationship. A technically illegal relationship which 12 year olds the world over find attractive.
4. Bella's character flaws are that she's clumsy and unattractive. God, I'm practically a bloody villain if those are character flaws. I'd be the troll under the bridge.
5. They get married when Bella's 17/18. That in itself is pathetic. I see a divorce on the horizon.
6. Edward reads the mind of their unborn child. Yes, he reads the mind of a foetus. Now, I don't know about you, but I never expected foetuses to have a huge intellectual capacity. It's been proven (apparently) that they can't feel pain, so can they real feel love? I'm no psychologist, but it doesn't seem likely.
7. The baby will grow super-rapidly-fast until it's a teenager, then stop growing. Now if that isn't a plot of convenience, nothing is. It's like Stephenie Meyer thought, 'screw that, I'm not going to write about 17 years of a kid's life, let's condense it into a few months and make it stop growing then so that 12 year old boys can fantasise over it. Yeah.'
8. Vegetarian vampires.
9. The fanbase are all super-obsessed and illiterate. Tell one of them that Twilight sucks and they're all 'omg no wayzzzz i iz mrs edward culen he iz sxc nd its rlyy wel writn!!!!!!!!!1111one'.
10. True love? At 17/18 years old? Oh come on.Labels: list, rant |
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| Your craziness is my sanity. |
I'm clinically mentally unstable. I do have a mental illness. It's not one of the cool varieties that people are afraid of or write horror films about. Instead, it's a very common one. Yes, I am a recognised sufferer of clinical depression. Who isn't, nowadays? But anyway, being one of the crazy elite, I've come across a few questions from skeptics who want to think that I'm just making it up to try and stand out from the crowd. What is craziness? What defines insanity? What makes us mad as opposed to just 'quirky', or 'different'?
Now, I'm no expert, but I would define crying for hours on end for no reason and having panic attacks in the middle of the night as being slightly more than just 'unique'.
Craziness affects us all in different ways at different times. Sometimes I just want to shout it out from a rooftop, from every rooftop, to stop the bastards asking questions ('why do you care about that so much?' 'What do you know about mental illness? You're not an expert!') Sometimes I want to make everyone just shut up about it, but not usually.
Usually, I want to find the twatheads that did this to me and scream in their faces, 'look what you've done to me, look what you've done because you thought it made you look tough in front of your mates'. But I won't get the chance to do that now.
However, there is a fine line between craziness and the normal workings of the brain.
And that is why I don't tell people that I'm ill.
I have told three people. The first person, my best friend, was understanding, and accepted it. She said she didn't know how I felt, but that she would try and help me. That was a good response.
The second person said, 'oh yeah, I had depression too.' I was surprised, and asked how they got over it. They replied 'I just did'. It emerged that they classified 'depression' as a mood, not an illness. They had once been sad after getting a bad grade in school. I gently explained the difference between our conditions, and they remained adamant that it was the same. I then shouted that years of sexual and psychological taunting is slightly more likely to cause depression than a C in art. We've barely spoken since. What a shame.
The third person said that they had also had depression, after their dog died. Now, of course, they were very sad, but clinical depression is diagnosed by a disproportionate reaction to trauma. With me, the bullying I endured ended, but for months and months afterwards I was still crying every night, still couldn't go out in public on my own, still depended on others to look around the corner for me in case someone was there of whom I was afraid. I needed months of therapy and confidence building to be anywhere near normal. But, you know, I suppose I shouldn't dwell on it. People that dwell on things just get annoying. So hopefully by writing all this down, I can stop thinking about it and just be more normal. Yay.Labels: me, sanity |
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| Bad parenting makes me hate the world. |
I went to town today with my mum. Not much to say about that, except here's a tip - don't wear bright orange tights, a yellow sundress and high-heeled ankle boots unless you want old women to think that you're a 12 year old prostitute, or is that just me? Anyway, I went to a clothes' shop and decided to try on two dresses. I didn't buy either. One of them made me look like a turnip and the other made me look like a harlot. But I digress. As I struggled out of the second dress, a woman of about 50 entered the changing area. Only a curtain separated us. It was a tense moment. Then she realised that I existed, and went into the adjacent changing room - along with about three-hundred children. HER children. And seriously, I think at least two hundred and ninety of them had ADHD or something. One of them - 'Erin', I think - appeared to be 'that way inclined', as she kept running into occupied changing rooms. Her mother shouted, 'daaahn't do that, Erin, peopwe are in dere!' in the worst Cardiff accent I've ever heard (I'm allowed to say that because I am a Cardiffian). The girl started screaming obscenities in response, and as my ears bled, I could just about make out the woman shouting at another child (Alan) - 'daahn't run into ya bruvva like that, 'member last time you did that? 'E ended up in 'ospital wiv an 'ole in 'is 'ead and 'ad to get stitches! There were blood everywhere, do you want that to 'appen again? Then stop it!' Oh great, I'd gone in to try on a dress and ended up with a medical report into the results of stupidity and hyperactivity. Alan burst into tears at this point, at which his mother started hugging him and kissing him. What the Hell? Your kid just tried to kill his brother and you're praising him? Do you want your kid to grow into a psychopath? I hurriedly got dressed and left the changing rooms. I think my IQ dropped about 10 points during the time I was in that changing room. It's probably into negative figures by now. It would explain a lot.
Also, here's something I should have mentioned before: I have a list of things I have to do this year. I've already done two (small ones) which I think is quite good, especially as I did one yesterday and one today. Oh yeah, I started late.
Completed:
1. Buy Cadbury's Mis-shapes - the chocolate equivalent of me!
2. Watch 'The Exorcist'. Ooh, it was freaky. Some real 'behind the blanket' moments. I can't imagine how they filmed that, I would have pooped myself.
More tomorrow, by which time my favourite (and only) sister will be back from her Deutsch trip. She'll be jet-lagged and cranky. Yay.
Laters Alligators, in a while crocodiles.Labels: list, me, rant |
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| Bad drivers make me hate the world. |
I went to Bridgend today. I don't usually. I don't wake up and immediately think, 'I'll go to Bridgend today'. Not that I dislike Bridgend at all. I have some very fond memories of it, like when I bought a toy cat from one of the toyshops there and the assistant forgot to take off the security tag, so my dad had to hammer it off in the living room with me howling like a banshee, afraid he'd hurt my new cat.
My twin sister is in Berlin on a school trip, the lucky bint, so I decided 'I'm not having this', and I rebelled against the Man of boredom by going to Bridgend. On the way there, we were stuck behind a man (living corpse!) who misread all the speed limit signs of 50mph as 25mph. It didn't help that my Uncle insisted on playing whining, drivelling durge on the stereo - 'The Crying Game' and 'I Wanna Know What Love Is' to name but two - and by the end of that stretch of the motorway, I felt like throwing myself out of the car and walking. I probably would have got there quicker.
Also on the way there, we were graced by the presence of a moronic tit in a BMW on the motorway doing a respectable 60mph - while on the phone. I actually stuck my middle finger up at him and mouthed 'get off your phone, you nimwit'. I can't believe the idiocy of some people on the roads. They should be torn from their precious cars and forced to ride bicycles on the M4. It might give them some lessons in safety awareness. I've noticed that a lot of people talk on the phone while driving. It's really disconcerting when lorry drivers do it. You feel like shouting, 'look, mate, you've got a big-ass truck tied to the back of your little cubby-hole, now stop talking to your trailer-mistress on the microwave and focus on the big plastic doughnut in front of you!' How hard can it be? These people have passed their driving tests, for God's sake. I haven't, and I know it's a pretty bad idea to risk the lives of others (and yourself) just so you can tell your wife that you've changed your mind about the pot roast.
So, here is my message to bad drivers everywhere; STOP IT. The girl you're trying to impress won't fancy you quite so much when you're behind bars for your prattiness.Labels: me, rant |
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| Why set up this blog? |
I am but an average, random teenager. No-one really cares about what I have to say. They'd be mad if I did. I don't tend to approach a surly adolescent in the street and ask for their opinion on the Gaza conflict or the economy. Perhaps I should. I'm sure that they would have an opinion as valid as any other. Perhaps even as valid as my own. I'm not sure. We teenagers can be hypocritical.
So, that returns us cyclically to the inevitable question; 'why set up this blog'? The truth is that I set it up not only to force my opinions on the realms of the internet and shamelessly self advertise, but also to hopefully give others a little insight into the minds of a mentally unstable teenager. Naturally, I shall retain my anonymity, at least until the publishing offers come pouring through (in what parallel universe?). The mind of a mentally unstable teenager is a terrifying place. Its geographic equivalent is probably the Grand Canyon, full of steep cliffs of unfinished thoughts and cognitions, dangerous opinions and seemingly impossible climbs. The teenager is an intimidating being. No two are the same. And no two are sane. Not even you.Labels: introduction, me, sanity |
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Name: AnwenKya
Home: Cardiff
About Me: I am a 5ft blonde teenager with an overactive imagination, bad temper and terrifying sense of humour. Hear me roar!
See my profile...
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background by tayler
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posted by AnwenKya at 