Q + A Answers

Note that not all of these questions were asked on the blog, some people preferred to message or email me the questions.  Here goes:

 

I like that you tagged this post with #lol – what is the craziest/funniest tag you’ve ever used?
I’ve used a ton of crazy/funny tags. I literally don’t care whether the tag is irrelevant. If I want to use it, I’ll use it. I pretty much use at least one irrelevant tag each time hahaha.

If you were to live in a box, what kind of box would you live in?
A big box. Like, the size of a house. It would also be so thick that rain couldn’t penetrate the walls. I would have a slightly smaller box as a garage.

Light or dark?
Dark because, if there is the slightest bit of light in my room at night, I can’t sleep. Also, I love the sky at night.

Favourite sound?
Music. Of course. If you’re referring to non-musical sounds, then I like the sound that you get when you wet your finger and put it around a wineglass, though that’s semi-musical. I think all sounds are kinda music in their own way.

If you were in the middle of a field and saw a lake, what is the first thing you’d do?
Look for ducks, duh.

If you had to live in one place for the rest of your life (real life and/or fictional), where would it be?
I’m tempted by Hogwarts but that’s a school so you can’t live there forever, you have to become an independent witch/wizard. So I’ll go for a real life location: France. It’s hot, but not as hot as places like Spain, and it has such a lovely language and it’s beautiful and I just would really like to live there.

Five people you’d like to be stranded on a desert island with?
MyMindSpeaksAloud because she would have remembered her music when she got stranded, so we’d have some awesome tunes to listen to.
My mum because she’d make me feel calm when I felt lost.
It’s a shame that it has to be people because I know a few animals…
Patrick Ness so he can make a story about the desert island and I’d be a famous character.
Einstein, if he were alive, because, come on, the smartest man in the world. He’d get us out of there in no time.
Also a guy who has a sack of potatoes because potatoes are not only delicious, they are also very good conductors and you could start an electric supply out of potatoes.

Five people who you wouldn’t want to be stranded on a desert island with?
A serial killer. That’d be bad.
My dad because he’d tell me not to snack… on a desert island. Seriously!
A kid because I’d feel so sad that they’re all out her by themselves that I wouldn’t think about anything else and I’d just cry forever.
The prime minister. They’d tell me they were getting us off the island, but would never do it.
Donald Trump because, come on, it’s Donald Trump.

What made you start writing?
I started writing because I had a passion for it. There was no other reason. Nothing inspired me, I was a kid at the time, I just wanted to write, and I had a big imagination that needed to be let out.

Imagine you were a cat for the day, what would you do?
Sleep and not be judged. Also, express how I feel about people in meows and purrs so they think I’m being sweet when I’m not.

Do you belong to any clubs/groups?
At the moment, I’m part of a lady’s autism group. I don’t feel like a lady, I’m only eighteen, but that’s what it’s called. Because we’re all adults and female. I like it, though.

What is your favourite take away?
There’s this pizza place near me called Pizzaface and they do great take away vegan pizzas.

What is your favourite TV crime drama and why?
Probably Death in Paradise because it’s funny and cleverly written.

What is your favourite quote?
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world.” – Albert Einstein.

If you could go back and relive your life from any point and still have your current memories but also have the ability to change what you originally did, would you?
I’d go back to when I was six and become a really smart child because I have all these memories. I’d be like a genius for a good few years. Also, I’d become more confident in myself and wouldn’t withdraw. I’d finally stand up for myself.

If your life was made into a movie, which actors would you want to portray you and your family members?
Hard question! I think Saoirse Ronan for me, Jennifer Aniston for my mum because she would love someone attractive to play her, Jude Law for my dad, and Chris Hemsworth for my brother. I know he’s over 30 but I mean, come on?? Like, I’d get to meet him on the set and everything…

If you could gain an ability/skill that you don’t have now, what would it be?
The ability to read minds. I really need to know what people actually think of me.

If you could only be remembered for one thing, what would it be?
Oo hard. Maybe my writing?

What is your theory of how Game of Thrones will end/who do you think will sit on the iron throne at the end?
I hope it’s Daenerys, and that Jon Snow is her right-hand man.

Carpet or hard floor?
Tough one. Hard floor is cold but carpet collects dust… Carpet because, although bad for my asthma, it feels nice on the feet.

Thank you so much for all these questions! I hope you enjoyed the answers.
Lia

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300 Followers?! Q+A

So I woke up this morning to 300 followers on my blog, which I think is so cool, considering I only ever started blogging to get into a regular writing pattern for my creative writing a level. Now, I’m no longer doing that a level but this blog is kinda a part of me now haha.

So, I didn’t do a Q+A at 200, but I’ve decided I’m going to do one for 300. So that means you can just send me in questions about anything and I’ll answer them. Whatever you want to ask, go ahead.

Thank you so much for this milestone,

Lia

My Christmas

This is my Christmas post!! For Christmas, I brought presents for my mum, dad, brother, and brother’s girlfriend. I got my mum a nice dress, my dad some chocolate penguins, an electronic bug, and a bike t-shirt. I got my brother a Mr Poopybutthead figurine, which you’d know if you watch Rick and Morty. I got his girlfriend an animal crossing K.K. Slider plushie, which she seemed to like. My brother was jealous though, perhaps for his birthday…?

I got a new phone for Christmas too, because I haven’t had one for a while. It’s cheap but it seems nice and it has that new phone feel. I also got the best surprise ever: a Pablo cushion! I screamed when I opened it because it’s the best thing I could have gotten. My brother got a Smiler cushion. For my stocking, I also got a magnetic poetry kit, which I’m going to start using for my instagram. Also, my dad got me a book that he brought when he was with me, except he told me it was for my brother.

My roast was lovely, with Tofurkey… mhm. I love roast potatoes and mash too. And sprouts.

On boxing day, I went to my aunt’s. It was really nice. One of my cousins gave me a box of delicious vegan sweets (honestly, best I’ve ever had). The other cousin gave our entire family a David Attenborough collection of DVDs, but also gave me a box of vegan chocolates, and no one else anything extra. I’m obviously her favourite. I got a lovely poetry book and top from my aunt and uncle. But my uncle’s sister got me a VEGAN YULE LOG. Okay, it wasn’t really a normal yule log, it was more dark chocolate in the shape of a yule log, but it was delicious!! I love my family. We also played some games, including Bananagrams, which I love a lot. It’s kinda like Scrabble but quicker and you laugh more.

I also won a competition a few days before Christmas. My favourite author, Patrick Ness, ran a competition where 10 winners would win all these prizes and 100 runners up got some good prizes too. I was one of the 10 winners, and it makes me so happy, because one of the prizes means I get to go see A Monster Calls as a play in the Old Vic, London. I also get some cool other stuff but I think that’s the one I’m most excited for, especially considering the star of it is a tree. I’m just wanting to see a tree walk on stage, really.

Overall, my Christmas was the best time of year, because I got to go see my family. I don’t care about much else, it’s just nice to see them. The rest of my year wasn’t really much to beat either. I also played ‘Who Am I?’ and one of the questions I asked was ‘am I female?’ My cousin answered ‘you are… now’ and I instantly knew I was Doctor Who. Hehe…

The pets got a ton of presents this year too, including a bum for Pablo. Yes, a bum. My cousin got him a cuddly baboon’s bum, which he loves.

Thank you for reading,

How was your Christmas?

Lia

When You See Me

When you see me, you see a white girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She can see, she can walk, she’s got nice clothes. That girl is lucky. Perhaps you’re right; I live in a house, with a family that cares, and I’ve got pets too. I am writing this on an iPad, that’s nice as well. I’ve got a lot of things I should be thankful for. I am thankful for them, but life isn’t a breeze either.

As a stranger, I look normal to you. But I have a hidden condition, and it’s called autism. For me, it means that I crave social contact but want to run away when I get it. It means that I won’t speak up about something I dislike until hours later, when I tell only my mum. It means that I can’t go out alone, can’t navigate alone, it’s too terrifying. It means that sometimes my words get scrambled up and I say things wrong. It means that I can’t currently work, because it would be too much; the people, the tasks, the deadlines— it would all get too much. I wouldn’t even survive the interview. It means that I stay in my house most days.

It means that I am not who you think you see.

People with autism look just like anyone else. Sometimes, they’re even extroverts willing to party (they do exist, I know a few!) and sometimes they’re not. Each person with autism is different, no two share the exact same difficulties. But we all blend in. Just because you can’t see it, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s very real and very frightening.

Thank you for reading,

Lia

What Am I Doing With My Life?

So, two people in one day asked me the same question: what am I doing with my life? One conversation went something like this:

Them: Are you going to university?

Me: No.

Them: Are you working?

Me: No.

Them: Are you breathing…?

The other conversation was just a catch-up with an old friend, whom seems to have a really cool job as a teaching assistant with tiny children. I love children, so that seems fun. We talked a lot about our pets, and then about what we’re doing at the moment.

Anyway, it made me realise that people don’t understand me that well at all. These people that I’m friends with aren’t very similar to me. There is one friend I have who is very similar to me but we don’t meet up much, and it’s pretty much just her emailing me jokes that make me laugh. She thinks they’re not funny but they’re really my types of jokes!

So, I don’t have any prospects. I’m just an eighteen-year-old living with her parents. A lot of eighteen-year-olds live with their parents still, so I’m not too abnormal yet. My brother lives with my parents too — he’s nineteen! FYI: My mum moved out of her parent’s house at nineteen. I wish my brother took after her, because I really like the quiet. Just thinking is nice. And I can’t just think because he is constantly loud. I think I’ve complained about it a few times in blog posts… I have hyper-senses due to my autism, so every little sound really disturbs me! And he doesn’t even try to be quiet sometimes. The noise can be so loud…

Sorry for getting off topic! Basically, I think I should tell everyone a little thing about me: I don’t find it easy doing most jobs, or going to university. Both things involve interaction, and I have constant anxiety over every little thing, so something like that really wouldn’t work for me. I don’t know if I’ll get a job somewhen in the future, but right now, I don’t want one. I know that it would send my anxiety levels skyrocketing and my parents are fully supportive of me in everything I do. They want me to try working on my writing, but honestly, I’ve been stuck for ideas lately. Somewhen, I might go to university, or the open university, but it isn’t this year, or next. People need to live life at their own pace.

Not everyone should feel pressured to do what everyone else their age is doing. Sure, other people my age are at university or at a job: that isn’t me. Not right now, anyway. I have autism and it limits many of my social skills. Lots of people with autism do go to work or university, but I don’t find it works for me at the moment. I’m also pretty tired a lot of the time. I don’t know why, it’s kinda undiagnosed, but it stops me from being able to just go out and do things.

Remember that you shouldn’t feel like you have to do what the world is doing. You should do your own thing, be your own person. You can go to university if you want, that’s cool, but you should do it because you want to do it, not because everyone else is doing it. You can wait a year or two to try and figure out what you want to do in life. I want to be a cat, but unfortunately I haven’t figured out how yet. Maybe, one day…

Thanks for reading,

Lia

Sorry

I’ve not done a blog post for quite a few weeks, sorry, I just haven’t been feeling good. I don’t know why but sometimes I get really down and I guess that’s how i’ve been feeling these last few weeks.

Anyway, i thought i’d just update you to inform you that i’m not dead, even if i feel it. I’ve had issues with my front right tooth for years, ever since I cracked it skateboarding when I was a cool tomboy kid. So, they’ve been doing lots of treatment on me, but eventually decided the only way they could kinda fix it was to do the final root canal treatment under general anaesthesia as this meant they could do exactly what they wanted.  So, on Friday I had this done. I’ve never had general anaesthesia before so was kinda nervous but it went okay. I had a premed that made me giggle a lot and then they didn’t even told me they were giving me the general anaesthesia, they just did it and then a second later it was done and i was in my room. There were some patches of blood on my bed which confused me as I hadn’t had anything done that should warrant that much blood next to me. I still don’t know what it’s from, just that it’s definitely mine. 

 The first thing I remember saying is ‘did they steal my slippers?’ as I had gone in with them on and woke up with them off. They did not steal my slippers. I am happy. I have a cut on my foot from the wheelchair, which is not friendly. Apparently I cut it trying to get into the wheelchair.

 I was very emotional yesterday because my parents had made me go out as we had a house viewing, the day after I had general anaesthesia. So, I didn’t get to rest, and ended up crying in the evening at absolutely everything. 

Also, I am still annoyed that my mum ate two of my sandwiches. She said she made too many for my post op snack but i was starving and she ate two of them!! Monster. 

I also went to a children’s hospital despite being 18 and it was a great experience. I don’t think i’ll get to go again but it was lovely. I have a cute plaster on the back of my hand.

I’m still very dopey and have a sore throat from the tube. It was terrifying not knowing how I would respond to the drug, because my mum has had a lot of surgery and sometimes it wasn’t a good experience for her. However, because of this, she asked that I be given an anti sickness medicine and a small tube for my throat, which means the sore throat isn’t as bad as it could be.

I’m doing okay at the moment. 

Apart from that, my life hasn’t been too eventful.  I guess I just want to chill. 

Sylvia Plath, Mental Health, and Girls

This post is a combined post about mental health day (yesterday) and girl’s day (today). It’s talking about my all-time favourite poet: Sylvia Plath.

She was born in 1932 and died thirty years later in 1963. Why did she die at the age of thirty? Suicide. She had attempted suicide many times, but they failed. Eventually, she succeeded by carbon monoxide poisoning.

As she wrote in some of her many letters, she felt that she wouldn’t get a place at the top universities because of her suicidal background. She did eventually get a place at Cambridge, where she met her future husband, Ted Hughes, who was once the poet laureate.

She talked, in her letters, that girls being suicidal wasn’t taken seriously back then, and that it would even affect their chances in education and work. Her doctor cared deeply about her mental health, however, and had tried to get her admitted to hospital several times, but they would not take her. The system failed her because they didn’t care enough about her mental health. She was also subjected to electroconvulsive therapy when she was depressed, which is a really awful way to treat someone.

In one letter, she mentioned that two days before a miscarriage, her husband had beat her. Many blame Ted Hughes for her death, and some even vandalised her grave, getting rid of the surname ‘Hughes’ and replacing it with ‘Plath’. Her son also committed suicide in 2009.

Nowadays, mental health is taken more seriously, but a lot of girls are still subjected to judgement: “it’s just hormones”, “it will pass”, “you’re not depressed, just sad”, “you don’t seem it”, “this is a phase”. Sylvia Plath was failed, but she did so many beautiful poems that will always honour her memory; don’t let anyone else be failed. Just because they’re young, doesn’t mean it’s a phase, or hormones, or anything else. Even if it is, just take them seriously. Wiping them away like rain on your windscreen will cause them to isolate themselves and, eventually, they might have a similar fate to that of Sylvia. I love her writing so much but a lot of it is sad. She literally wrote about her emotions and she still didn’t get the care she needed.

This post was about girls, as it is girl’s day, but that doesn’t mean you should forget boys. They are taught to be strong pillars, but allow them to fall down. If you don’t, they might have the same fate as Sylvia Plath’s son, Nicholas.

A Letter to My First & Second Bully

This letter is about two kinds of bullies. The first kind is the bully who is going through something tough and they’re just getting their anger out on someone weaker than them. The second kind is the one who either does it for popularity or just gets a thrill out of making someone suffer. This is a letter to my first two bullies; the first was someone going through something, the second smiled whenever I cried.

Dear my first bully,

I shouldn’t really call you a bully. You’re a human being. I don’t actually remember how you made me upset because all I remember now is the aftermath. You probably don’t recall, as we’re practically strangers now, but after we found out that you were going through a divorce, we became friends. Your mum and my mum were friends for a while too. I think we once went to pottery together.

I’m glad you were my first bully, though, because you made me realise that not all bullies are monsters. You were angry and hurt and you took it out on me and that’s okay. Although I wasn’t used to it when you bullied me, you helped me to develop an ignorance for what was to come, though it still hurt every single time they bullied me. I know you were a sweet boy behind it. It’s the school’s fault, usually, because they make up stuff about anti-bullying policies that they never stick to.

I forgave you so soon after because I saw the real you. You were only young too; we both were. I’m sure that you learned that it was wrong and that it never happened again. In fact, I think I’m positive of that, because of how a bully became a friend. Though we went our separate ways years ago, I still remember you. I think I won’t forget you.

Dear my second bully,

Nice friends you have to help you insult me. It would be harder to do it alone, wouldn’t it? You always have to come in a gang of three, like the movies, but you’re the ringleader, also like the movies. You never picked on anyone else whilst we were in the same class; not even that boy who everyone else picked on — you were friends with him. It was specifically me. Specifically me. Why? Because I was a girl but I wasn’t one of the popular, pretty ones. I had my hair tied up and I didn’t wear mascara. I also didn’t have my ears pierced. Bare in mind that I was eight, yet everyone else deemed it normal for girls of eight to be coating themselves in stuff. I don’t get it. But I was still a girl: weaker, more vulnerable than a boy. You also knew that I didn’t have confidence, regardless of the fact I stuck my hand up several thousand times. I did that to try and make myself feel better, but it always made me feel worse. Your sneering didn’t help. It never did.

You were also the type of bully that I would never report; you made sure of that. You were subtle, but threatening, and you made me cry in the toilets. Our teachers hated me (because I cried all the time), so they just moaned about me being a cry baby in parent evenings. I think my parents were shocked, but it meant that you could continue doing what you were doing. I didn’t cry much until I came into your path. Yours and theirs; all of the bullies, but you were definitely the leader. I could always tell that. You did it for an ego boost, a popularity boost, security. You needed to feel like you had value because you never cared for class, so your grades weren’t the best; so you bullied me.

Still, it made you smile. It always made you smile, and that sickens me. Funny how sick rhymes with your name, isn’t it? You were another boy, just like my first bully, but you never became my friend. I will also never forget you, because if you hadn’t happened, maybe it never would have gotten so bad. Maybe I wouldn’t have had crippling anxiety for years to come; anxiety so bad that important grades suffered. I would tap my fingers through exams, thinking and thinking about how my life came to that point. And at one stage, I came back to you. And I was always disappointed with my results. Always disappointed. I think I could have done better; I certainly studied a lot. I think all of it was because I couldn’t focus. I just wanted to get out of that room and run out of that gate, all of the time. Maybe you were involved in some way, psychologically messing with me, even though I hadn’t been at your school for a few years.

Thank you for making my life a misery.

Thanks for reading this post. If you’re getting bullied, it’s tough, and sometimes no one will help you (at least, in my case) but you will always get online support. I am always here and so are so many other people. It’s a hard time but you can get through it. 

Lia

 

Questions

When we’re children, we see things for the first time, experience things for the first time, and our reaction is pure. We question the world too, asking stuff that we would never ask again because we’d grow up and develop a narrower mind. It’s true. Our minds are very open when we’re young, and then the experiences start to define us, and we close our minds, so that we don’t have to think about stuff we can’t comprehend.

What makes philosophers great is that they never stop questioning, and their minds become as open as the world around them. Though some of them still have narrow-minded approaches to certain things (*cough*Aristotle*cough*), they still see the world in a way that very few do. They would ask the simple questions that nobody would ever answer. It’s not about receiving the answer, but about letting the question out in the first place. In today’s society, we are still deeply narrow-minded and more selfish than we have ever been in history. We don’t stop to think about why we get scared over trivial things like doing a presentation in class (one of my own fears) when we actually have the advantage of education. Education is supposed to broaden our minds but, in my opinion, it does the opposite. This is simply because we learn stuff to do well in exams and exams are all we ever see in education. We don’t think about the bigger picture. As well as this, we don’t get taught about the bigger picture. We get taught things that will never matter, they’re only for an exam paper. Back in the day, there were philosophy schools, founded by some great philosophers, like Plato. If more schools taught us about philosophy and the questions that really matter, then we wouldn’t worry about our future so much. The future is a very temporary thing, as we are very temporary. We worry about our own tiny lives, without realising that our own lives are very trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, it is a perfectly human trait to worry about yourself, and your own life, but I just like to think about the bigger things sometimes, and that makes me stop worrying, at least temporarily. I think about how our existence is a wonderful thing, yet we continue to abuse it. We are not monsters, but I am sure other species think of us as that. The way we treat the Earth, and the other living beings on it; we were given these minds so that we could use them kindly, but instead we use them like a weapon. Why do we use our minds as a weapon? What are we hiding from? Our minds are tools, and they should be sharpened like other tools, but they should not stab other minds. They should sharpen each other. Then, we’d be able to see the bigger picture, instead of our personal pleasure.

The questions are waiting to be asked. You don’t need to answer them; only ask. Just like when you were a child and you questioned everything. Become like that again.

What questions did you ask when you were children? I asked ones that could be seen as offensive if I wasn’t a child! I was just curious!

Thanks for reading,

Lia

Imagine

Imagine you have no tongue. It was chopped off at birth, just like they pretended your soul was, except your soul was just hidden behind ladders and ramps and hills. So you have no tongue, and you try to ask what’s going on, why are you being attacked, why is your mother over there but you’re over here? But you can’t. You’re scared, very scared, but you can’t express this fear. Your eyes are the only way of showing it but nobody looks into those, they just look at the rest of you.
The profit, as they call it.

You just want to be with your mum, you just want this to be all over with, you just want to live. But, again, you have no tongue. Because you have no tongue, you become an object. An ‘it’, rather than a she or a he. You are just another ‘it’, among a thousand ‘it’s. You don’t want to be an ‘it’. You want to be an individual. You have your own mind but it doesn’t count, because you have no tongue.

Your days go by quickly, you can’t differentiate between them. You don’t look forward to anything, or look back to anything, except the first moments you saw your mother. You wish you could still be with her. But you can’t be, because you are here, and she isn’t. You are in the area where she once was, though, getting the treatment she once got.

Being trampled by your friends because they have no choice, then being raped and forced to give up your baby, like she was, many times, then finally you are sent to the place where you will die. Some call it a slaughter house, you call it freedom, because death is better than the half-life you’ve been forced to live. Even if death is painful, which it often is, you still prefer it to before.

Nobody should have to want death. No one. Not even cows.

Whilst this post was about cows, it is also about all the other living beings still suffering. I don’t see how there is any justification for rape, just so we can get milk, which is intended for the babies, by the way. This is my way of thinking and I hope this post makes you think a bit about the industries you’re buying into.

Lia