Happy birthday and welcome back me!

Exam season has finished for me and what does that mean? I can be the lonely lion again!

And boy have I missed myself…

Anyway, what better time to come back than my birthday! Did you get me a present? No? Well this is awkward…

That’s right, the lonely turns one today and, not to be a cliche, but really, it’s been that long?

I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet (except not really cause all I did was wish myself happy birthday) as I have a date with a Domino’s pizza *inhales deeply*.

I probably should have made this post more interesting by writing it when I wasn’t so… preoccupied.

Goodbye for now…

Today’s been a weird day.

Scrap that, it’s been a weird week.

I just haven’t been feeling myself recently. I just feel like everything is going as bad as it possibly can and there is no way that I, or anyone else, can change that. 

Anyway, about a month ago I started having ‘funny five minutes’ in the worst way possible. What I mean is, I would have 5 or 10 minutes when I literally felt like the world was coming to an end. My throat would close up, my chest would become tight and my heartbeat would shake through my whole body. So really, it wasn’t funny at all. I would then feel sick, weepy and physically and mentally exhausted.

Naturally I assumed some underlying heart condition was surfacing and, being the paranoid hypochondriac I am, went straight to google…. the worst decision of my life.

All it told me was ‘GO TO THE DOCTOR NOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIEEEE’.

So after that shock to the system, I made a doctors appointment for as soon as possible. The wait was extortionate. 

That doctors appointment was today, and thankfully no horrific diseases were discovered.

Instead I discovered that I have been having panic attacks, and I had no idea that was what they felt like.

Apparently I have no trigger, my body just decides to go into a state of panic without consulting my brain, causing what can feel like a heart attack.

Anyway, let’s get to the point. I feel like I should take anything out of my life that is causing stress (other than the things that have to stay there (exams and crap)). This blog though, is not a necessity, and will there for be cut out until I feel ready to return.

So, there we go.

How long I will be gone I don’t know, but I really hope it isn’t too long *stares into the obis of time stretching out infront of me* .

I’m gonna miss thelonelylion, but health comes first and blah blah blah..

Of course I will still be checking up on my favourite blogs every now and then (my mental health would be rock bottom without them) but as for my posts, there won’t be any for a while.

So there we got, this is me sighing off.

I will returning soon (fingers crossed)

Goodbye blogosphere

Yours faithfully 

TheLonelyLion x

 

Dead Ends and Brick Walls

I’m not suggesting that no-one has bad days, and I know full well that most teenagers feel this way every now and again. However, one bad day turned into a bad week and that bad week is swiftly becoming a bad month. 

I just feel like however hard I try, there is always somewhere there to push me back down to where I belong , back in the realms of 15 year olds who still can’t spell which and don’t know their 4 times table (don’t laugh, it’s not funny). And I do try hard, I try damn hard, a damn lot harder than the people who get the things I know I deserve just by being naturally clever and naturally good at sport and naturally able to pass exams. 

I don’t wish to sound big headed (believe me, in metaphorical terms my head may as well not be here at all at the moment) but I know I deserve to get good things in life. I may not be the cleverest or the sportiest or the most artistic, but if someone decided to  take the smallest bit of notice of me, they might just see how hard I try to be those things. 

I know I shouldn’t be complaining, I know I really have a fantastic life, but it’s hard when you just don’t feel like you any more.

And that’s exactly how I feel. I didn’t used to care what people thought of me, I thought I’d made my peace with the fact I’m not really the best at anything. But this last month, for the first time in a long time, I just want someone to take some notice of me.

I don’t want much. I’m not asking for everyone to bow down at my knees. In fact, I’m not even asking for attention.

I just want someone to acknowledge the fact that I am trying my best. 

I just wish school wasn’t based around who can suck up to a teacher the best, or who can play netball best, or who can get their hair the straightest. I just wish school was based around who just got their head down, did their work, and tried damn hard at it too.

 

There’s a bird in my room… NOW WHAT?

I live in a Victorian house. This not only means I have experienced some serious ‘bump in the night’ incidents while I’ve lived here, there is also a fire place in every room. ‘Oh how ornamental’ you may be thinking ‘what I would do for a pretty fire place in my bedroom’. 

No.

You do not want a fire place in your room.

Why?

Because birds fall down them.

The incident happened this morning while I was ‘revising’ (dancing to Wham in my underwear). 

Anyway, I heard a faint fluttering echoing from the chimney breast at about 1 minute and 37 seconds through ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’. I wasn’t unnerved by this, after all, birds fall down my chimney all the time and they either escape or admit to their sooty death and die in silence before slowly sliding down and falling onto my carpet many months later (yes I have had bird carcass in my room more than once).

Well not this one.

This one was different.

This one escaped.

I am going to have to assume that this bird is the reincarnation of Harry Houdini (ruling out the possibility that George Michael has some sort of hypnotic effect on birds of course) as this has never ever happened before. 

I didn’t notice that the flapping was more frantic than ever before as I was pretty into the dancing by then (if you count big fish, little fish, cardboard box as dancing. Does that count? I’m gonna go with yes, fish don’t get enough credit in this world. Nor do card board boxes for the matter). However, I finally noticed the severity of the situation when what can only be described as a snap, crackle and a pop erupted from the chimney and echoed around my room.

I paused the music and slowly approached the fire place, completely unaware of the beast that was lurking below. I moved my beanbag from its position as bird carcass and soot blocker and was there?

A bird.

And this one was far from dead.

It squawked at me once, spread it’s wings and took flight circling my room.

And what did I do?

I screamed.

I screamed my butt off. I had never screamed that loud in my life. That is, until I discovered my door handle was stuck.

So the only thing left to do was use my fists. I am not exaggerating when I say the sides of my hands are blue with bruises from banging on that door.

Luckily my mum was there not to let me out, but to stand outside my room trying to work out was I was saying ‘What are you saying? Something’s burning? There’s a bomb in your room?’

Thanks mum.

Anyway, I can report that I was eventually let out of my room and the bird was released back into the wild after a stern word from me about breaking and entering.

If you have a chimney in your house, here’s a tip; put a bean bag in front of it and never EVER try to move it.

 

 

The world needs to make it’s mind up

Today I was in a particularly bad mood. And I’m not talking an ‘I’m-feeling-bad-so-I’ll-go-and-brood-in-silence’ mood, I’m talking an ‘I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you’ kind of mood. 

Unfortunately this I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you mood coincided with shopping for my sisters birthday present with my mum, someone who tends to bear the brunt of my PMS (it’s not my fault she becomes intensely and unbearably irritating in this particular week). 

Anyway, whilst carefully examining two CD’s to work out which one my sister would prefer, my mum sighed with exasperation and muttered ‘make your bloody mind up’ in the kind of way that is both under her breath and loud enough for me to hear and hopefully take the hint at the same time. This comment not only irritated me because I was lovingly and thoughtfully trying to work out how I would make my sisters birthday present special, but because, well, how the hell am I supposed to make my mind up when the world quite simply can’t. 

I mean, just look at the messages we are given on a daily basis;

It’s Ok to be fat… but you mustn’t be (the fact we are constantly being told to be comfortable in our own skin and not conform to societies view of the perfect body would be fine, if we weren’t also being told that we’re all overweight and must eat the right food and do the right amount to exercise in order to stay a ‘healthy’ weight.)

Education isn’t as important as your happiness… but make sure you get good grades or you’ll ruin your life (Can’t you be happy and get good grades? Well, I am quickly realising that that is not an option (unless of course you have the ability to pass exams without many nights sat in front of a work book frantically cramming names and dates of a subject you quite frankly couldn’t care less about))

You aren’t a piece of meat… but if I can see your school skirt below your blazer you’re a bit weird (In my school you are seen as an outsider if you wear your skirt at a reasonable length. This doesn’t effect me personally (I actually quite like my legs!) but it’s still giving us a bad impression of what looks ‘nice’)

You must be your self… but not too much (Being yourself is a good thing, until you actually do it, then you’re destined to a life as an outsider)

You mustn’t label yourself… but we’re gonna do it anyway (You must never label yourself, after all, everyone’s individual… right? WRONG. Apparently people fit into five main groups (mainly based on you’re instagram feed and ability to take selfies))

Ok, this outburst came from a totally unimportant and everyday situation, but you try going shopping when you’re in an I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you mood.

 

Is this an exam or…

So today I discovered that my English exam next term is to write a blog post.

WHAT?

I know, this should be a simple task for me as I write multiple blogs every week (OK, maybe not every week but I do my best). However, I am finding that this clash of hobby and examination has left me quite unnerved.

It has also made it increasingly difficult to hide the fact I do have a blog.

‘Does anyone in here have a blog?’ the teacher asked only to be replied with the blank faces of my class mates.

‘Pfft, who has a blog nowdays?’ asked the girl sitting next to me, her answer from me being a nervous laugh and a change of subject.

I also began to sweat what can only be descried as an unnatural and cascading amount as the teacher began searching for blogs written by teenagers, I mean, I know she’d have to scroll pretty far down to find this blog but boy was that the most stressful half hour I’ve ever spend to google. 

I was also vaguely shocked by all the language features that are apparently squeezed into every blog post. Is it just me that simply writes what comes to their head? Is this an absolutely awful blog? Actually… don’t answer that…

Anyway, I have now wasted half an hour of the time I was meant to be using writing practice blog posts.

Oh the irony.

 

 

 

 

Are you sure there’s 24 hours in a day?

I am sorry, but there are not 24 hours in day. I mean, that’s quite a lot of hours and if there where that many surely I’d get something done, right?

Since the question of where time goes is apparently an unanswered one, I am going to attempt to find out exactly where the time in my day goes.

Apparently, the average person spends 9 hours working or commuting, 7 hours sleeping, 3 hours doing leisure activities, 1 hour eating, 1 hour cooking and cleaning, 1 hour grooming, 1 hour on the phone, half and hour caring for children or the elderly and half and hour shopping.

So, lets see how I match up;

12-1 am: sleeping

1-2 am: sleeping

2-3 am: sleeping

3-4 am: still sleeping…

4-5 am: I guess this is where my time goes.

5-6 am: zzzzzzzzzz….

6-7 am: beep beep beep beep (thats my alarm by the way)

7-8 am : quite a lot happens in this hour, I shower, dress, eat breakfast… probably the only hour of the day I’m actually vaguely productive.

8-9 am: a slow wander to school (being on time for school is a sacrifice I have to make in order to enjoy the sunny walk for 10 more minutes) and half of RE.

9-10 am: the other half of RE and half of PE. Outside. Playing football. Overall a pretty terrible hour.

10-11 am: the other half of PE (it’s 11 and I’ve already played football in frozen mud for an hour) and break.

11-12 am : Chemistry, possible the most sleep inducing subject of all, and when you got up at 7 only to play football for an hour I think a snooze is deserved, after all, do I really need to know about how alkanes react to bromine water?

12-1 am: Physics, another subject I wish with all my heart was not compulsory. However, I sit on the far right of the classroom and the teacher has no idea I exist. This means I am free to snooze till I can’t snooze no more.

1-2 pm: Lunch has finally arrived! I’ve had my two hours nap time and I’m ready for some serious eating.

2-3 pm: English, marginally better than chemistry or physics and with a teacher that actually know I exist. This means sleeping is off the cards and actually being involved in the lesson is necessary. Looking back, that’s probably a good thing but at the time it was physically painful.

3-4 pm: Form (a useless waste of time designed for discussing the events of the day with our tutor group which is instead used for eating, bitching and playing catch with the hat of the boy who’s had a bad hair cut. School children are cruel) and another leasurly stroll home.

4-5 pm: cleaning out the hamster and walking to ballet. Oh the excitement.

5-6 pm: A painful hour long ballet lesson which I would really rather not have attended today.

6-7 pm: Eating. Yes, it takes me an hour to eat dinner.

7-8 pm: Homework. You may think this is a productive hour but when it takes 60 minutes to do three maths questions I’m not sure it counts.

8-9 pm: Writing this blog.. well the majority of it.

9-10 pm: Watching Coronation Street and skyping my cousin simultaneously. That’s multitasking for you.

10-11 pm: Watching Family Guy, getting ready for bed and reading. I have this thing which means I can’t sleep unless I’ve read for at least half and hour.

11-12 pm: I go back to the world of dreams.

So to sum up, today I spend 9 and a half hours working (school and homework) or commuting (walking places), 8 hours sleeping, 3 and a half hours doing leisure activities, 2 hours eating, no hours cooking or cleaning, 1 hour grooming,no hours on the phone (unless you count skype), no hours caring for children or the elderly, and no hours shopping.

Well I guess that answers the question, my time doesn’t go anywhere, I should probably just use it more productively, maybe less Corrie and more productive homework.

Thanks for reading!