the auditorium

With a click of your fingers,

and a whisper in my ear, you have me under.

I’m spellbound.

It’s crazy what people are willing to do for loved ones. In any other circumstance, with any other people, you would not even consider the things that come so naturally when love is involved – walk barefoot over hot coals; swim the seven seas. I may have slightly exaggerated with those two examples but what is undeniably true, is that the sky truly is the limit when it comes to pleasing the ones you love. It doesn’t even have to be for one who returns the affection.

Unrequited love is probably one of the most lethal situations to be in. Like all other types of love, you are looking through rose-tinted – seeing only the good in him, and censoring the bits you don’t want to see. It’s no wonder that psychologists call this the “Halo Effect”. Love makes him a saint and butter wouldn’t melt. The difference here is that this isn’t mutual. And that is where the problems begin.

Dance for Him, monkey

and His love for you must surely come.

Your heart tells you that there is a chance that this could work out; that given time and your efforts, he will come through and you can be together. Your mind, on the other hand, is bound and gagged from saying anything that might seem logical but that shines light on the ugliness of the situation. And so you heel at his feet, and answer to his every beck and call – like some leashed dog hoping for that treat. But it never comes. And your heart begins to bruise – torn between the hurt of rejection and the hope of reciprocation – until it breaks.

So, to those who long for the never, I say this: give yourself some dignity, stand up and dispel the curse before you fall into the abyss. Let it be you who shatters the dream, so that he may not. Don’t fool yourself into believing a fantasy.

Honey. Babe. Buttercup. Pumpkin. Cookie. Sweetie. Sweetheart. Sugar.

The list of endearments is infinitely long and all are sickly sweet or ridiculously lyrical. Everyone who is within earshot of the term (whichever it may be) is almost certainly going to have to check their gag reflex for fear of actual expulsion of their recently consumed meal. Only the one on the receiving end is oblivious to the complete and utter inappropriateness of the words in the situation. As you may have gathered, I’m not the biggest fan of PDA (Public Displays of Affection) and the use of endearments comes under that title. I’m not a total heartless prick though. I can just about accept “babe” in mixed company. “Babe”, yes; “baby”, no. It’s like, we already know you’re an item by your body language (from close proximity to holding hands, to everything but sexual intercourse on the streets). So we don’t need you to reiterate your point by then calling each other “cookie” or “sugarplum”. It’s just not necessary, and downright wrong.

Another annoying thing about endearments is that it is now more and more common to extend the usage outside of romantic relationships. I have been called “babe” and “hun” by complete strangers and the experience always leaves me feeling confused and rather angry. I am not your “baby”. Stop being so condescending you little queen, and just give me my drink! Argh! What is with all this over-friendliness and pretend familiarity? Why can’t we just return to the good ol’ days where we just beat each other up?

The title of this entry is a bit of an ironic joke really. And before people start jumping at my throat with their talons poised, I am aware that I may have used the word “ironic” incorrectly. I really don’t care. Life, it seems, is never simple. You always think you’ve got things worked out, and then suddenly, you’re back to square one and all the colours are jumbled again. You spend forever trying to work out what it is you want from Life, and then you spend the rest of your life trying to attain it. For those who are “lucky” enough to get what they set out to, there’s another twist awaiting you: you don’t actually want that thing anymore. No, you don’t. You want something else now, or you’re bored of it, or you realise that it isn’t so great after all – that it comes with so much more than you were anticipating. So why do it? Why chase after one thing?

The reason I bring this up is because of a recent conversation with some close friends about relationships. It is probably not untrue to say that the majority of people in this world who are not already in a relationship, are actively looking to be in one; wanting the one person who can make them whole. But what we concluded was that relationships are far more hassle than they appear to be worth. Sure, they can make you feel the happiest you’ve ever yet felt, but also they can cause the most agony that you’ve ever had to experience. It’s a double-edged sword – one that has had you working forever to get it. And then there’s the feeling of greener grasses. What if there is a better person for you out there? What if you are just settling for the current partner because you so desperatelywant to be in a relationship? I, personally, think that relationships are the most amount of trouble ever, and don’t know whether they are worth it or not. Afterall, what makes this relationship different from all the other relationships?

Just seven days ago, on Saturday 12th April, a woman took to the stage on television in a gold sequin dress and performed a song from the Wizard of Oz musical. The audience gasped in shock before rising for a standing ovation. Overwhelming applause rang throughout the theatre as the this songstress continues to sing her song. Needless to say, the judges of the show were astounded and unanimously decided her fate to go through to the next round. Over the next couple of days, her voice crossed nations and she found international fame. Why? Granted, she could hold a tune. In fact, she had quite a nice voice. However, was it worthy of such international praise on its own merit? Personally, I don’t think so. She could sing, yes. But it wasn’t a particularly amazing vocal either. The reason for her sudden fame, in my opinion, becomes clear when you see her. No, she was not pretty or sexy. She was the complete opposite – she was rather ugly, and she was socially awkward. She was everything you expected her not to be. Before the melodic voice escaped her lips, the audience had already passed judgment on her – she was a loser; a bad auditionee. Even the judges seemed to have an air of “oh, here we go again”. The real talent behind Susan Boyle, is the talent of surprise – the talent of breaking a stereotype and making the world aware of their shallow judgements. So, the nation will rise to see her through to the final, and possibly further. And for this one reason only: to show that we are not some shallow, judgemental group of sadists, who enjoy watching people fail. What a sorry sight, we are.

Will you prove me wrong?

Have you ever been in the situation where someone, or even yourself, has had the need to say:

“You’re too good a friend. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Or something to that effect? I hear it all the time, and it got me thinking as to why this might be. Could it possibly be my fault? Am I doing something that automatically puts me in the friend category, rather than the potential partner category? Having said that, is there even such a system? I mean, it isn’t unheard of that friends eventually become couples. However, it is undeniable that there are people in our lives who we just think are friend material – no more, no less. How does one decide on these boundaries? How do you know when someone just isn’t boyfriend or girlfriend substance for you? My theory – formulated through my own experience of the matter spiced with a dash of bitterness and a squeeze of cynicism – suggests that it all boils down to one thing: conversation.

Let me explain. When you first get to know someone, how much do you divulge in conversation? And how much conversation do you have with them? The answers to those questions, I think, is what decides the category in which that poor sucker falls. What I find is that when you start talking about yourself and your likes and dislikes, and your fears and whatnot (named self-disclosure in Psychology) you can often overstep the line. What line, I hear you cry. The line that seperates the “dates” from the “friends”. The more you get to know someone, the more friendly you become – that is assuming that you have any similarities with each other. And that’s bad friendly if you were wanting more than just friendship, because once you get to the friendly stage, that’s when the self-disclosure becomes mutual, and you become just another bag for them to spill their guts onto, if you get my jiff. Also, the amount of time you spend talking is integral to this process. The more time you talk, the more you spill. The more you spill, the closer to that line you get…until BAM! You’re in the friendship zone. Say buh-bye to any chance of getting with the guy/gal you had.

As I said earlier, I get this a lot. It’s just my disposition to talk to people loads and find out loads, so I’m just a friend-type person. I resented that fact before, but I’ve come to accept it. It’s not so bad having just loads of friends, I guess. As the saying goes: you can never have too many friends.

It’s come to my attention – yes, I was ignorant beforehand – that there are too many teachers/teachers-in-training that just shouldn’t be in the job. A teacher should be putting the pupils’ education first. Always. I don’t believe in lost causes. Every child has strengths and weaknesses and a good teacher should recognise this without being condescending or labelling the child as a problem child. It does the child no good for teachers to be saying they’re rubbish at whatever subject it is that they struggle with. If you’re going to be like that, then don’t teach. Please.

So why ARE these folk choosing to follow this career – despite their distaste for it? One word: money. The starting salary of any teacher is aroung the £20k mark, and it goes up every year. Add to that the generous amounts of holidays and the stability of the job, and voila, everyone wants a piece of the action. This year, in particular, has seen a sudden influx in applications for teacher training courses, which means something awful for me: I may not get to start teacher training this year.

Argh! Screw all you people! Stealing my job!

It’s the festive season everyone, and the towns are once again packed full of last minute shoppers, trying to grab any sort of  retail bargain with which to stuff their seemingly endless stockings. You can feel the tension in the air upon entering any of the stores as swarms of bug-eyed customers rapidly scan shelf after shelf; sift through rack after rack; dig through bin after bin to find that ever elusive “perfect” gift for that someone who is always forgotten: old Aunt/Uncle Whatshisorherface. People are literally getting into a sweat and panic over the finishing touches for their unbeatable (until the next year) Christmas Day.

There is no better time to see the generosity of human kind than at this time of year. Millions and millions of pounds are spent on celebrating something that has probably no meaning whatsoever for the majority. I do wonder how many of these present-buyers are actually Christian? How many actually realise what the true meaning behind the annual festivities? Is the 25th December still the date of the birth of Jesus Christ? Or is it just another day on the calendar which just so happens to be filled with gift-swapping, and turkey-eating, and wine-drinking, and carol-singing? I wonder, indeed.

And then there’s the yearly wish. The one that is in everyone’s prayers from the very beginning of December: please let it be a White Christmas. Please, let it snow. Let the ground be covered in white slush so as to make travel almost impossible. Let it be so cold that our hands and faces glow red. That, dear Lord, is what we all wish. 

Anyways, I wish everyone – who celebrates it – a very merry Christmas. And season’s greetings to those who don’t. Have a good’un!

Since when did talent become synonymous with sympathisable (as in “eliciting sympathy”)? Because it’s beginning to annoy me. The latest case of this crazy definition of talented is observable on the current series of X Factor. What the f*** is Daniel still doing in the competition? He is, without doubt, one of the weakest singers there – I’ve heard better at karaoke events – and yet he’s still in for the running. On the other hand, uber-talented, Austin was given the boot just last night. Why Rachel and Austin even ended up in the bottom two is a complete mystery to me. But what I’m sure of, is that Daniel is surviving on sympathy votes alone. For those of you who are unaware of his situation, his wife died shortly after giving birth to his daughter about a year ago (I think) and her dying wish was for him to audition at X Factor. Awwww! How sweet! He’s doing it for his late wife….my arse! Does he look like he’s doing it for his wife? Does it look like he’s in anyway unhappy? He’s loving it! It has long since gone past the point of fulfilling her request. So open your eyes, Britain!! Stop picking up the phone whilst dabbing your eyes with a hanky. This is a singing competition. Not a charity.

Daniel for the chopping block!

Are you out and proud?

Every year, there comes a time when countless numbers of people take to the streets of their home town with their heads held high and their rainbow flags even higher. Yes, the colourful, and oh so camp time of Pride. Men and women of all shapes and sizes cavort down rows of streets, whistling, shouting, megaphoning, singing, dancing, squealing, openly flaunting their sexuality in front of everyone. “We’re queer, we’re here. Get used to it!”. I get it. I really do. You’re proud about your sexuality – you’re proud to be gay/lesbian/transgender but why rub it in everyone’s faces? Is it really necessary? I mean, do heterosexuals have a “straight pride”?

I understand the reason (the underlying and pretty much hidden one) behind Pride, is to try and promote acceptance of diversity in human beings, but is the event really doing anything for the “gay community”? If anything, I think that it further outcasts us; the whole thing is like an elaborate self-segregation. It also reinforces stereotypes of homosexuals. You only have to look at the way people dress and act at Pride to understand what I mean. It’s definitely not something I’m proud of.

If you don’t want others to think of your sexuality as a big thing, then stop making such a big thing out of it yourself.