This month has been absolutely mental. Not in the wild, exciting, not-getting-up-until-it's-dark and never remembering how you got home kind of mental. The kind of mental that means being so busy you regularly write '4th June 2011' on important documents, when it's actually the 21st. June 2011 has gone so fast I'm surprised it hasn't left a stream of dust behind it, and - to be honest - thank God. With the end of June comes the end of exams, the end of exam-related stress, exam-related insomnia, exam-related breakdowns, exam-related weeping and non-exam-related my 18th birthday. But that's not relevant. Somehow (and I really have no idea how - though it might have something to do with the afore-mentioned insomnia) I've still managed to watch films, listen to music and read books.
Films
Once again, I must plug my other blog ( http://www.filmnerdsftw.blogspot.com ), on which I (sort of) regularly review, discuss and generally drool over the wonder that is films. In terms of movies, this month has been...varied.
Evil Dead - watched this (and the sequel) at a movie-night, and have to say the atmosphere added to the film. I've spoken about my wariness of horror films, but this, whilst apparently trying to be scary, was stomach-crampingly funny. Ridiculous, cliche, gruesome and bloody hilarious.
Shaun Of The Dead - I'd avoided this film for a really long time because I didn't think it would appeal to my kind of comedy at all. How wrong I was. Having been forced to watch Paul at the cinema and enjoying it far more than I expected to, I decided to give this a go and was, again, pleasantly surprised. Now and then a bit too silly, generally speaking I found this hilarious and far superior to what is arguably it's American counterpart Zombieland.
Timeline - this little-known (well, little-known in comparison to, like, Harry Potter) Michael Crichton adaptation is a good'un. Adventure-y, funny in places, romantic, action-y, exciting and with eye candy for every taste. Rarely remember I own it, always enjoy it.
Wimbledon - a rare example of a genuinely funny rom-com, plus the ever-appealing Paul Bettany, plus a sports movie I actually know a bit of background too. Watching the real Wimbledon always puts me in the mood for this film, and other than one or two howlers in the dialogue, I love it every time.
P.S. I Love You - watched this on my own, late at night, whilst feeling slightly fragile. Thought that, since it's about the eighth time I've watched it, I'd be able to keep a grip on myself. Failed utterly. People can say what they like about this film, I really like it; it makes me laugh without fail and it makes me cry without fail and, really, what more could you ask for?
Music
These albums came to me in dribs and drabs over the month, so I've listened to them all different amounts of time. Though I have no excuse as to the bizarre range of my music taste.
Simon and Garfunkel, 'The Simon And Garfunkel Collection' - I've always loved a bit of Simon and Garfunkel (together moreso than separate), largely because I find their acoustic, harmonising style haunting, memorable and mesmerisingly beautiful in it's simplicity. Have always and will always love these guys. Favourite tracks - 'Homeward Bound', 'The Boxer', 'The Sound Of Silence' and 'Cecelia'.
Pixie Lott, 'Turn It Up' - I listened to this through twice, then deleted it from my iPod. Not rubbish, just not at all my thing. The one song I kept - 'Cry Me Out'.
The Baseballs, 'Strings 'n Stripes' - These guys really are a band like no other, literally. They take modern, often dance-y, occasionally crap songs and give them a 1950s style makeover; it almost always produces WICKED results. I adored their last album, and whilst being mildly annoyed by the fact that many of my fav tracks from this album were 'live' (I dislike live versions on albums. No reason. I'm just picky), I loved this. Didn't think it packed the same punch as the first album, but still well worth a listen. Favourite tracks - 'Tik Tok', 'Candy Shop', 'I'm Yours' and 'Paparazzi'.
Adele, '21' - I only borrowed this album from a friend a few days ago, but I've had it on repeat incessantly since. Generally speaking, anything that makes Number One in the charts either flies past unnoticed by me, or I hear it blaring from my brother's bedroom and loathe it. Not so with Adele. I love the raw, bluesy sexiness of her voice and think this is certainly one of the best albums I've listened to this year. Favourite tracks - 'Someone Like You', 'Set Fire To The Rain', 'Rolling In The Deep', 'Turning Tables' and 'One And Only'. Also, my friend Amy wrote a blogpost about this album which more or less sums it up to perfection: http://music-is-my-refuge.blogspot.com/2011/04/sort-of-album-i-want-to-make.html
Books
I will make no excuses for the fact that everything I read this month was pure entertainment. I spent so much time revising, I didn't have the brain space to read anything heavy. More 'classics', doorstoppers and 'literary' books next month, I promise.
Anna And The French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins - my Walking Library of a best friend leant this to me with her usual proviso 'I really enjoyed this and I think you will, but it will also irritate you'. As usual, she was spot on. I really enjoyed this, in the sense that it was easy to read, sweet, romantic and funny. That said, it didn't escape from the genre's standard trap of being very predictable and, here and there, a touch too cliche.
Dear Fatty by Dawn French - I love Dawn French, and I love autobiographies, so I was delighted to find this on my Mum's shelf. I thought the style of being written in letters would irritate me, but I actually REALLY liked it - it gave the book a personable tone that was really easy to relate to. I was surprised by how much Dawn French's story moved me, but it also had it's fair share of laugh-out-loud moments. Highly recommended.
13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson - on a similar vein to Anna And The French Kiss, this is cheesy and teenage but in a good way. That said, I didn't actually find it as funny or as compelling as Anna And..., and I found the main character considerably more irritating (she just MOANED incessantly), I also found the romantic interest much more attractive. Matter of opinion, really.
It's Not What You Think by Chris Evans - still haven't quite finished this but I've enjoyed it more than expected. I love Chris Evans radio show and love the fact that he's from the North-West (inexplicable but true), and I've found his autobiography a funny and interesting read. That said, he goes on about radio technicalities a bit too much, and is a bit too light on himself (in my opinion) regarding some of the stupider things he's done in his life.
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
Monday, 27 June 2011
Just A Small Town Girl
So I have officially finished compulsory education. And writing that sentence down was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. Obviously it didn't exactly come as a surprise; it's not like we all turned up to school one day and the headmaster stood up in assembly and said "Hey, you're never coming back again! Surprise!": that would probably have been met with ironic cheering. But of course, I've known I was leaving for...well, about fourteen years. Seven years of primary school, five years of secondary education and two years of sixthform. Finished. Done. Completed. Finite. Weird.
It's not just that though; growing up seems to have really snuck up on me these past few weeks. I was so focused on exams, revision, planning and preparing for my future, I forgot how close it all was. My last ever A-Level exam was last Friday, in two days it's my 18th birthday (when I become a legal adult), less than a week after which I head off on my first ever no-parents/responsible-adults holiday, and a couple of months after that I move out. Into a new city, with new people, to a new kind of learning and an entirely new experience. And, at this moment in time, I don't even know which city. And that's terrifying. So terrifying, that right now it doesn't really seem real, just...overwhelming. And I just don't know if I'm ready.
Okay, fair enough, some days, I think "Dear God, bring it on. Get me out of this familiar town with these familiar places and familiar people." Admittedly, usually on a day when one of the familiar people has pissed me off. But in the sense of leaving, I think I am ready. I love my friends, and I love my family, but I need to meet some new people. I need some new problems to face, not the same old bollocks. I need some new challenges, not recycling the same tried-and-tested methods. I need some new experiences, not the same night replaying in front of my helpless eyes like an unstoppable Groundhog Day. It's not that I'm sick of what I have, I just need more. I'm too comfortable in my environment, too comfortable with everything and everyone in it, and it feels like cabin fever. I lose my temper faster, act tetchier and get less excited about upcoming events - nothing has changed, except me. And I haven't even changed, I don't think, I've just grown (that sounded tragically hippy-ish). I hope it's not just me. I don't think it is just me.
But then I think of all the things I'll miss. My mum, my best friend, my bed, my comfortable, routine life. Because I know that I can do this; I have a place here. Admittedly, sometimes that place is as the bossy and tactless one, but sometimes it's the listener, or the comforter, or the shoulder to cry on. Starting off in a new place I'll be place-less and persona-less. That's good, in that it gives you the chance to reinvent and better yourself, but it sucks in that (for a while, at least) I won't have a place, a role to play, a person to be, an essential part of the eclectic mismatch that makes a friendship. Now that is terrifying.
And there are SO MANY things I worry about; questions that won't get answered until it's too late to go back, big and obvious, or small and personal. Will I end up where I want to go? Did I chose the right place? Will I make friends? Will I like the people I live with? Will I fit in? Will my friends keep in touch with me, without prompting? How am I going to earn enough money to pay for living in a city without a parent paying for food, a roof and (arguably most importantly) central heating? Will I embarass myself when my new friends/flatmates witness my pitiful attempts at cooking? Will it irritate them that I have to wash my hair every day in the single shower shared between five or six of us? Am I going to have to get a job, or could I struggle by on loans and wishful thinking? What the hell is an ISA, and do I have to figure out financial paperwork(which, I'm sorry, may as well be written in Ancient Greek)? Do I have to register with a new doctor/dentist/optician? How much of my own cooking paraphernalia do I need to take? Are my books going to be horribly expensive? Will I enjoy my course? Will my university days be the best of my life, or a disappointing train wreck? Will the shake-up be too much for my sheltered and content brain to handle? Or will it be the best decision I'll ever make?
That's about 2% of the questions that flutter mockingly through my mind constantly, and I can't answer any of them. I'm afraid that I have developed a small-town mindset, that I've become too comfortable with these people, and this place, and this life. I'm scared that I'll never feel as comfortable and safe with these exciting new people as I do with the loved ones around me now. Some of these worries seem trivial and inconsequential, but they're there, and they'll stay there for the foreseeable future.
I take a lot of comfort from knowing that everyone else in my situation must feel the same way. And I take a lot of comfort from knowing that the people I'm embarking on this excitingly petrifying new journey with are in the same situation as me. And I take a bit of comfort from my mother's oft-repeated mantra that "It'll be fine." And I hope it will be.
But I guess we'll see.
It's not just that though; growing up seems to have really snuck up on me these past few weeks. I was so focused on exams, revision, planning and preparing for my future, I forgot how close it all was. My last ever A-Level exam was last Friday, in two days it's my 18th birthday (when I become a legal adult), less than a week after which I head off on my first ever no-parents/responsible-adults holiday, and a couple of months after that I move out. Into a new city, with new people, to a new kind of learning and an entirely new experience. And, at this moment in time, I don't even know which city. And that's terrifying. So terrifying, that right now it doesn't really seem real, just...overwhelming. And I just don't know if I'm ready.
Okay, fair enough, some days, I think "Dear God, bring it on. Get me out of this familiar town with these familiar places and familiar people." Admittedly, usually on a day when one of the familiar people has pissed me off. But in the sense of leaving, I think I am ready. I love my friends, and I love my family, but I need to meet some new people. I need some new problems to face, not the same old bollocks. I need some new challenges, not recycling the same tried-and-tested methods. I need some new experiences, not the same night replaying in front of my helpless eyes like an unstoppable Groundhog Day. It's not that I'm sick of what I have, I just need more. I'm too comfortable in my environment, too comfortable with everything and everyone in it, and it feels like cabin fever. I lose my temper faster, act tetchier and get less excited about upcoming events - nothing has changed, except me. And I haven't even changed, I don't think, I've just grown (that sounded tragically hippy-ish). I hope it's not just me. I don't think it is just me.
But then I think of all the things I'll miss. My mum, my best friend, my bed, my comfortable, routine life. Because I know that I can do this; I have a place here. Admittedly, sometimes that place is as the bossy and tactless one, but sometimes it's the listener, or the comforter, or the shoulder to cry on. Starting off in a new place I'll be place-less and persona-less. That's good, in that it gives you the chance to reinvent and better yourself, but it sucks in that (for a while, at least) I won't have a place, a role to play, a person to be, an essential part of the eclectic mismatch that makes a friendship. Now that is terrifying.
And there are SO MANY things I worry about; questions that won't get answered until it's too late to go back, big and obvious, or small and personal. Will I end up where I want to go? Did I chose the right place? Will I make friends? Will I like the people I live with? Will I fit in? Will my friends keep in touch with me, without prompting? How am I going to earn enough money to pay for living in a city without a parent paying for food, a roof and (arguably most importantly) central heating? Will I embarass myself when my new friends/flatmates witness my pitiful attempts at cooking? Will it irritate them that I have to wash my hair every day in the single shower shared between five or six of us? Am I going to have to get a job, or could I struggle by on loans and wishful thinking? What the hell is an ISA, and do I have to figure out financial paperwork(which, I'm sorry, may as well be written in Ancient Greek)? Do I have to register with a new doctor/dentist/optician? How much of my own cooking paraphernalia do I need to take? Are my books going to be horribly expensive? Will I enjoy my course? Will my university days be the best of my life, or a disappointing train wreck? Will the shake-up be too much for my sheltered and content brain to handle? Or will it be the best decision I'll ever make?
That's about 2% of the questions that flutter mockingly through my mind constantly, and I can't answer any of them. I'm afraid that I have developed a small-town mindset, that I've become too comfortable with these people, and this place, and this life. I'm scared that I'll never feel as comfortable and safe with these exciting new people as I do with the loved ones around me now. Some of these worries seem trivial and inconsequential, but they're there, and they'll stay there for the foreseeable future.
I take a lot of comfort from knowing that everyone else in my situation must feel the same way. And I take a lot of comfort from knowing that the people I'm embarking on this excitingly petrifying new journey with are in the same situation as me. And I take a bit of comfort from my mother's oft-repeated mantra that "It'll be fine." And I hope it will be.
But I guess we'll see.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Wimbledon
It is currently the night before what will (please God) be my last ever A-Level examination. Whilst this is generally wonderful news, it is bad in that right now I should be frantically cramming language theorists and lexical mnemonics into my head, and am instead writing a blog post. But I firmly subscribe to the belief that revision is made far more effective if you allow yourself to have periodic breaks and rests, and over the past few days, my breaks have been centred around one thing: Wimbledon.
I'm not much of a sporty person. Okay, understatement. I am an exceptionally unfit and exercise-hating person who considered PE lessons Satan's personal attempt to torture and humiliate me. I don't give two hoots about football, I only ever watch two minutes of rugby to ogle any goodlooking players, I think cricket is one of the dullest pasttimes ever invented and boxing is just barbaric. That said, I really enjoy watching a bit of tennis. There's something so sophisticated and genteel about Wimbledon, and I feel slightly more cultured simply by watching it.
In my mind, it also has loads of positive associations. When I think of Wimbledon, my mental image is of sitting with my Mum in shorts and a strappy top, drinking Pimms and discussing my birthday (which usually falls in or just after the Wimbledon fortnight). And that's a pretty awesome picture.
Plus, it's one of the few sports I actually get excited about. Whenever the World Cup is on, my overwhelming feeling towards it is a longing for it to be over, and for my fellow Brits to get a grip (the team is NOT the best it's ever been, we are NOT going to win and you WILL end up weeping into your beer by half-time). But tennis is actually INTERESTING. I understand the rules, for a start (though the scoring system has always seemed somewhat unnecessarily complicated), there is much more male-female equality, tennis players are rarely (if ever) thugs, and the most explosive a tennis-fan confrontation is likely to get would probably result in someone getting strawberries and cream dumped over their straw hats.
There's something so tense and exhilerating about a match point, and the Wimbledon final holds my attention (and my stomach butterflies) in a far more tenuous grasp than any football match has ever achieved.
But I'm especially grateful to Wimbledon this week, because it's given me a chance to sit back and relax, to forget about my revision-dependent future and have a legitimate excuse for alcohol consumption the night before an exam. What more could you ask from a sporting tournament?
I'm not much of a sporty person. Okay, understatement. I am an exceptionally unfit and exercise-hating person who considered PE lessons Satan's personal attempt to torture and humiliate me. I don't give two hoots about football, I only ever watch two minutes of rugby to ogle any goodlooking players, I think cricket is one of the dullest pasttimes ever invented and boxing is just barbaric. That said, I really enjoy watching a bit of tennis. There's something so sophisticated and genteel about Wimbledon, and I feel slightly more cultured simply by watching it.
In my mind, it also has loads of positive associations. When I think of Wimbledon, my mental image is of sitting with my Mum in shorts and a strappy top, drinking Pimms and discussing my birthday (which usually falls in or just after the Wimbledon fortnight). And that's a pretty awesome picture.
Plus, it's one of the few sports I actually get excited about. Whenever the World Cup is on, my overwhelming feeling towards it is a longing for it to be over, and for my fellow Brits to get a grip (the team is NOT the best it's ever been, we are NOT going to win and you WILL end up weeping into your beer by half-time). But tennis is actually INTERESTING. I understand the rules, for a start (though the scoring system has always seemed somewhat unnecessarily complicated), there is much more male-female equality, tennis players are rarely (if ever) thugs, and the most explosive a tennis-fan confrontation is likely to get would probably result in someone getting strawberries and cream dumped over their straw hats.
There's something so tense and exhilerating about a match point, and the Wimbledon final holds my attention (and my stomach butterflies) in a far more tenuous grasp than any football match has ever achieved.
But I'm especially grateful to Wimbledon this week, because it's given me a chance to sit back and relax, to forget about my revision-dependent future and have a legitimate excuse for alcohol consumption the night before an exam. What more could you ask from a sporting tournament?
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Procrastination
I'm waiting for my Chinese to arrive and officially sick of revision. In the past 48 hours I have re-watched all three hour and a half episodes of Sherlock, as well as both hour and a half audio commentaries, and I will then move on to Merlin.
At least six Sims 2 babies have been born, the Facebook homepage has been refreshed more times than I can remember, TV Tropes has essentially been utterly violated by my thorough and invasive examination, dozens of cuppas have been drunk and YouTube has been gormlessly stared at for probably several hours worth of videos. This is what my revision looks like.
On the plus side, five more days of revising, then freedom. So, to quote William Wallace (well, okay...Mel Gibson), five more days of work. FOR FREEDOM!!!!!!
At least six Sims 2 babies have been born, the Facebook homepage has been refreshed more times than I can remember, TV Tropes has essentially been utterly violated by my thorough and invasive examination, dozens of cuppas have been drunk and YouTube has been gormlessly stared at for probably several hours worth of videos. This is what my revision looks like.
On the plus side, five more days of revising, then freedom. So, to quote William Wallace (well, okay...Mel Gibson), five more days of work. FOR FREEDOM!!!!!!
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Give Me Five!
I am slightly bored (again) and decided to do a slightly tedious blog post (again) that I slightly ripped off someone else (again). Here are some Top Fives for you.
Top Five Qualities In The Male Species
1. Sense of humour - because anyone who doesn't have one should not be within a fifty-metre radius of me.
2. Inner-nerd - by which I mean full and total appreciation of all or a combination of the following: film trivia, bad cop shows, travel, little-known bands, history, wittiness, writing and mildly embarrassing obsessions. But especially film trivia.
3. Chattiness - because quiet people scare me.
4. Humility - because arrogance reminds me of Piers Morgan, and there's just no need for that.
5. Tolerance - because one of us needs to be able to deal with the following: small children, Jehovah's Witnesses, technology, smug people and people who phone up trying to flog you stuff.
Top Five Indulgences
1. Amazon - it's not an interest. It's an addiction. And it's really, really bad for my bank account.
2. Heinz spaghetti on toast - don't ask why, but a bad day can be solved with a can of spaghetti and toast.
3. Rubbish films - by which I mean those cheesy rom-coms that are good for nothing but nights in with chocolate and misery.
4. Paperchase - pretty, useful and with the truly unique ability to make history revision more interesting. Shame about the price tags.
5. Uniball ink pens - it makes my writing look pretty. And it's not THAT weird. Is it?
Top Five Fears
1. Sharks - because they will eat me.
2. The ocean - because it is full of the sharks that will eat me.
3. Wasps - I am one of those people who sees a wasp, leaps up and runs around shrieking until it targets someone else. As such, I am one of those people who is consistently stalked by wasps.
4. Quiet people - they make me uncomfortable, but they're so timid and nice-seeming that you can't even work up enough animosity to dislike them. It's very annoying.
5. My mother - a healthy respect of your parent is natural and necessary. Especially when they're as scary as mine.
Top Five Guilty Crushes
1. Gene Hunt - something about the manliness.
2. Dr House - I'm not alone with this one, and it's similar to Gene Hunt...
3. Liam Neeson - I know he's old enough to be my grandfather, but the man is 6'4'' and has a voice that could make angels weep.
4. Paul Bettany - ESPECIALLY in A Knight's Tale. And not (just) because he's naked.
5. Russell Howard - despite the fact I'm 99% sure he's shorter than me, he has a lazy eye and an occasionally immature sense of humour, I will one day marry him.
Top Five Methods of Procrastination
1. Writing A Blog - thus.
2. Television Catch-Up - my temporary and somewhat embarrassing addiction to One Tree Hill was born of a deep, DEEP desire to avoid GCSE revision.
3. YouTube - encourager of cyber-stalking, guilty crushes, time-wasting and brain-numbing. Dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
4. Twitter/Facebook - say no more.
5. Cups of tea - at the moment (two days before my exams start) I'm up to about fourteen cups a day. At this very moment, I'm drinking my fifteenth.
There you go. Doesn't your life now feel just a LITTLE more exciting?
Top Five Qualities In The Male Species
1. Sense of humour - because anyone who doesn't have one should not be within a fifty-metre radius of me.
2. Inner-nerd - by which I mean full and total appreciation of all or a combination of the following: film trivia, bad cop shows, travel, little-known bands, history, wittiness, writing and mildly embarrassing obsessions. But especially film trivia.
3. Chattiness - because quiet people scare me.
4. Humility - because arrogance reminds me of Piers Morgan, and there's just no need for that.
5. Tolerance - because one of us needs to be able to deal with the following: small children, Jehovah's Witnesses, technology, smug people and people who phone up trying to flog you stuff.
Top Five Indulgences
1. Amazon - it's not an interest. It's an addiction. And it's really, really bad for my bank account.
2. Heinz spaghetti on toast - don't ask why, but a bad day can be solved with a can of spaghetti and toast.
3. Rubbish films - by which I mean those cheesy rom-coms that are good for nothing but nights in with chocolate and misery.
4. Paperchase - pretty, useful and with the truly unique ability to make history revision more interesting. Shame about the price tags.
5. Uniball ink pens - it makes my writing look pretty. And it's not THAT weird. Is it?
Top Five Fears
1. Sharks - because they will eat me.
2. The ocean - because it is full of the sharks that will eat me.
3. Wasps - I am one of those people who sees a wasp, leaps up and runs around shrieking until it targets someone else. As such, I am one of those people who is consistently stalked by wasps.
4. Quiet people - they make me uncomfortable, but they're so timid and nice-seeming that you can't even work up enough animosity to dislike them. It's very annoying.
5. My mother - a healthy respect of your parent is natural and necessary. Especially when they're as scary as mine.
Top Five Guilty Crushes
1. Gene Hunt - something about the manliness.
2. Dr House - I'm not alone with this one, and it's similar to Gene Hunt...
3. Liam Neeson - I know he's old enough to be my grandfather, but the man is 6'4'' and has a voice that could make angels weep.
4. Paul Bettany - ESPECIALLY in A Knight's Tale. And not (just) because he's naked.
5. Russell Howard - despite the fact I'm 99% sure he's shorter than me, he has a lazy eye and an occasionally immature sense of humour, I will one day marry him.
Top Five Methods of Procrastination
1. Writing A Blog - thus.
2. Television Catch-Up - my temporary and somewhat embarrassing addiction to One Tree Hill was born of a deep, DEEP desire to avoid GCSE revision.
3. YouTube - encourager of cyber-stalking, guilty crushes, time-wasting and brain-numbing. Dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
4. Twitter/Facebook - say no more.
5. Cups of tea - at the moment (two days before my exams start) I'm up to about fourteen cups a day. At this very moment, I'm drinking my fifteenth.
There you go. Doesn't your life now feel just a LITTLE more exciting?
Saturday, 4 June 2011
The Scale Of Like
It's now afternoon and I'm still sat - unshowered - in my dressing gown with the curtains closed, having had my standard Saturday morning YouTube catch-up. As I am about to embark on arguably the most important three weeks of my life so far - examinations, the results of which will decide where I live, who my friends are and essentially which direction my life goes in - I figured that writing a silly blog post instead of revising was the way forward. If I fail my A-Levels, it's the internet's fault.
So I've been doing a lot of reading recently, and I was trying to come up with a system of rating books. Because on my film-blog I use the standard five-star rating thing, but it frustrates me when I have to lump two films in the same rating even though I found one significantly better than the other. I considered broadening into the ten-star spectrum, but then giving six stars sounds mean, when it actually means the film was better than average.
And the other day I was talking to a friend and was trying to explain to him that I measure people according to a Scale of Like, that goes something like this: -
People I love and actively try to spend lots of time with.
People I like and enjoy spending time with.
People I like but don't go out of my way to see.
People I don't really like but enjoy the company of.
People I'm indifferent to.
People I don't like and would rather not see/meet.
People I really don't like and actively avoid.
It occurred to me that what this basically means is that there are two measurements of a person; how much you like them, and how much you enjoy their company. These are not the same things. You can consider somebody a really decent, kind and generous person but find some habit of theirs irreconcilably irritating (like those religious people who live exceptionally generous lives, but constantly try to shove their views down your throat); so you like them, but you don't actually want to spend all that much time with them. And there are those people who you know aren't actually very nice, but they're funny or charismatic or just exciting to be with, so you enjoy seeing them regardless (like that person in every group who everyone's actually slightly frightened of, but they're so much fun you have to keep them around).
But I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to place people on the Scale Of Like. I don't think it makes a judgemental person, because if it did then the world would be full of judgemental people, because a personality is completely subjective. What one person finds annoying another person can find endearing. What one person finds weird, another finds funny. What one person finds romantic, another finds sickening. That's just life; everyone has their own Scale Of Like, and every person is different on every Scale.
I think I lost my point somewhere along this blog, because reading it back it looks like I'm saying "It's okay to judge people," which isn't my point at all. My point is that it's fine to not like people sometimes, because whatever it is that you don't like about them, someone else will love. And besides, not-liking someone isn't as simple as just not liking them. Or something.
(I was going to end it there, but then the ridiculousness of my current situation hit me and I thought I'd paint you a picture. A 17-year-old girl with last night's make-up smudged across her face, greasy-haired and wearing a dressing gown with her curtains closed at 12.30pm, writing a philosophical blog post only her friend's will read with a slightly iffy message, instead of revising for the exams that dictate the rest of her life. Ah, the youth of today.)
So I've been doing a lot of reading recently, and I was trying to come up with a system of rating books. Because on my film-blog I use the standard five-star rating thing, but it frustrates me when I have to lump two films in the same rating even though I found one significantly better than the other. I considered broadening into the ten-star spectrum, but then giving six stars sounds mean, when it actually means the film was better than average.
And the other day I was talking to a friend and was trying to explain to him that I measure people according to a Scale of Like, that goes something like this: -
People I love and actively try to spend lots of time with.
People I like and enjoy spending time with.
People I like but don't go out of my way to see.
People I don't really like but enjoy the company of.
People I'm indifferent to.
People I don't like and would rather not see/meet.
People I really don't like and actively avoid.
It occurred to me that what this basically means is that there are two measurements of a person; how much you like them, and how much you enjoy their company. These are not the same things. You can consider somebody a really decent, kind and generous person but find some habit of theirs irreconcilably irritating (like those religious people who live exceptionally generous lives, but constantly try to shove their views down your throat); so you like them, but you don't actually want to spend all that much time with them. And there are those people who you know aren't actually very nice, but they're funny or charismatic or just exciting to be with, so you enjoy seeing them regardless (like that person in every group who everyone's actually slightly frightened of, but they're so much fun you have to keep them around).
But I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to place people on the Scale Of Like. I don't think it makes a judgemental person, because if it did then the world would be full of judgemental people, because a personality is completely subjective. What one person finds annoying another person can find endearing. What one person finds weird, another finds funny. What one person finds romantic, another finds sickening. That's just life; everyone has their own Scale Of Like, and every person is different on every Scale.
I think I lost my point somewhere along this blog, because reading it back it looks like I'm saying "It's okay to judge people," which isn't my point at all. My point is that it's fine to not like people sometimes, because whatever it is that you don't like about them, someone else will love. And besides, not-liking someone isn't as simple as just not liking them. Or something.
(I was going to end it there, but then the ridiculousness of my current situation hit me and I thought I'd paint you a picture. A 17-year-old girl with last night's make-up smudged across her face, greasy-haired and wearing a dressing gown with her curtains closed at 12.30pm, writing a philosophical blog post only her friend's will read with a slightly iffy message, instead of revising for the exams that dictate the rest of her life. Ah, the youth of today.)
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