tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3091743443377016492024-03-14T09:18:16.171+00:00Gracy VioletGrace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-32406954257908754252019-08-29T19:24:00.001+01:002019-08-29T19:24:37.153+01:00The Start of Something New It genuinely is the weirdest feeling typing back on this page again. Pretty much a year to the day since my previous post and so much has changed since then - most definitely in a good way! It feels surreal that I am sat writing this in the most stereotypical American dorm room you could ever begin to imagine - but here I am, surprise!<br />
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From the minute I arrived here in Rochester, my life has genuinely felt like a scene in a cliché American film. The things that I have experienced and witnessed already still don't seem completely real - and I'm not sure if they ever will. Now I have my good luck cards propped up on my desk, my rainbow unicorn bedding bought and my teddies arranged in a nice display on my bed (I promise I am 20 years old) - I feel settled and ready to begin my American adventure.<br />
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This has been a dream of mine since I started looking around Universities three years ago - and I still cannot begin to fathom that it has actually happened. I'm not going to lie and pretend that the journey was plane sailing - if anything it's been a struggle from the get go. Sorting health insurance, Visas, meal plans, accommodation etc was more of a faff than I ever thought it'd be but I got through it albeit a few tantrums and crying sessions on the sofa to my family.<br />
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The goodbyes were some of the most gut wrenching things I've ever experienced - I think by the end of them I genuinely ran out of tears. If anything it made me realise how lucky I am to be surrounded by the most amazing people, who I know will be waiting for me back home and hopefully feeling slightly jealous and missing me - even if it's just a little bit.<br />
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As a few people are aware due to my dramatic Instagram stories - how unlike me - the travel here was the most stressful and disheartening thing I've experienced for a good old while. Once I navigated my way through Manchester Airport on my own - something that I know Alice and Georgina were very concerned about - I felt indestructible and, if I'm perfectly honest, a little smug. I sat at Terminal 2 with my pint of Heineken and cheers'ed (is that a word) to myself and the adventure I was about to start.<br />
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Whilst the plane journey wasn't the greatest, that still didn't dampen my mood. The plane was two hours late to depart, due to someone trying to bring unidentified medical equipment on board, and luckily (!!!) I was seated next to two very unfriendly people who looked at me like I'd asked them for a kidney transplant when I (very politely) asked them to get my backpack down from the overhead locker.<br />
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7 hours later after being pretty much force fed and watered by the lovely cabin crew, I was ready to begin the short journey from JFK to Rochester. The plane landed and I felt excited and ready to get to my final destination to see what it was truly like. I sailed through customs and baggage claim to then be notified that the connecting flight had been cancelled.<br />
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I went to the Delta desk to be met with the rudest employee who pretty much told me that I would just have to wait in JFK for 24 hours for the next flight - and that I had no other choice. When telling her that that was ridiculous and that surely a hotel is provided for an overnight stay, she looked at me as though I'd suddenly grown two heads.<br />
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After ringing my boyfriend mid-breakdown to say that I already hate it here and want to come home, and him telling me to stop being dramatic and get on with it, I met up with Josie, the other exchange student from Leeds, who was also booked onto the same flight. Waiting 24 hours at an airport, we decided, was not going to happen and so we booked an extremely dodgy, extremely cheap hotel for the night. The sheets still had crumbs in them from the previous booking, and the 'duvets' were merely even a blanket - but I've never been so excited to see a bed in all my life.<br />
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We checked out the hotel the following morning at 11am, ready to finally board our 2 hour flight from JFK to Rochester. After checking the bags in we proceeded to join a huge queue to get through security. At this point it was around midday, and we knew that we had 10 hours wait in the airport until our flight. The time passed fairly quickly, especially after the ultimate task it was to find vegan food in the airport, and there wasn't even an inch of doubt in our minds that we wouldn't be boarding this plane.<br />
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After 6 hours of waiting, I received a text stating that the flight was going to be delayed by an hour and 45 minutes. Whilst annoying - surely it couldn't get worse than this?<br />
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It did.<br />
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Half an hour later, we were notified that the flight had been cancelled YET AGAIN. At this point I just wanted to hop on a plane back to Manchester, where I could be back in my home comforts and surrounded by NICE people. After going to the desk and being spoken to like absolute dirt once again, I pledged that there was no way I was getting a flight tomorrow - we would have to find an alternative way.<br />
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After googling how much a car to Rochester would cost (<i>yes</i>, I was that desperate), we decided to look at a trusty Megabus. Whilst 7.5 hours sat on a sweaty coach full of people eating smelly food didn't sound like the most appealing thing in the world, at least we knew that once we were on there we were guaranteed to finally be arriving in Rochester.<br />
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So, after staying in another hotel for the night, we set off the following morning to the megabus stand. We all have our low-points that we remember in our lives and it was here that I experienced mine. Still in the clothes I wore to the airport three days ago and clutching my trusty teddy bear Fred, I sat on the pavement in New York City waiting for the bus and truly questioning whether all of this was worth it (that was 45 minutes delayed, may I just add). When turning to my family group chat for some moral support, simply stating that 'this coach has to turn up, there's no way this situation could get any worse' my lovely Dad simply replied with 'the coach could run out of petrol or the driver could just not turn up'. Thanks Dad, I will definitely always turn to you in times of need.<br />
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Finally, the coach showed up and we managed to get on. Lets not lie, that amount of time on a bus was definitely not fun or cute, but at least we were getting closer to our final destination. Fast forward seven hours and twenty minutes later, we finally saw a sign for 'Rochester' and I don't think I've ever felt relief quite like it.<br />
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I think even Hull could look magical as a final destination after a horrendous journey like we experienced, but Rochester is truly in a different league from anything I've seen before. As soon as we got off that coach, where people were eating and doing some very questionable things, everything has ran smoothly since then.<br />
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Even getting our luggage turned out to be the least hassle free thing ever, and as soon as we arrived on campus I knew that the amount of time and energy it took to get here was completely worth it. I've spent the summer looking at pictures of this place online, and even they don't do it justice. It genuinely is everything I've ever imagined and more - and I'm so glad I didn't hop on a plane back to Manchester. (It also would've been slightly embarrassing because I've chewed off the ear of every person I've ever met in my life about the fact that I am studying in AMERICA!).<br />
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I'm writing this after being here for a week and things still seem as surreal and exciting as they were when I first arrived. I don't think it's completely hit me yet that I'm actually here and how far away I am from home - every time I hear an American accent I still feel an element of surprise!<br />
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The people here are genuinely some of the loveliest I've ever come across, and pretty much everything you see in the films happens here on campus. The other day I was peacefully stuffing my face at a welcome breakfast, when an acapella group seemed to just pop up out of nowhere and start performing. Fraternity and Sorority's are also a massive thing here, however I am still yet to go to a party that doesn't get 'dry' at 9pm.<br />
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One of the things I love the most about being here, is that EVERYONE talks to you. You can be sat in a group of people and someone you've never met before will just sit down and join in the conversation. Particularly when they hear a British accent, people seem to make a beeline for you. Even things like getting a coffee turn into two hour conversations with the people sat around you - which I absolutely love, yet perhaps won't be the most helpful thing during exam periods.<br />
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I'm going to keep it short and sweet, and end it off here - in typical Grace Fallon style I've blabbered on for much too long. If you've made it up to this point, then I genuinely appreciate in and also envy your attention span.<br />
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I've really missed writing and I hope to be more frequent with it now! I also really hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into the beginning of my life as an American college student (how crazy).<br />
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Please let me know anything else you'd like to see on here - the suggestions would be really helpful.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x </span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-62284068963630886042018-08-14T21:42:00.000+01:002018-08-14T21:42:21.258+01:00To All The Boys I've Loved and LostI remember watching a video on YouTube a good few years ago by Alexa Losey. It was titled 'A Letter To All The Boys I've Loved', and even though my 17 year old self turned my nose up at that - I had nothing better to do so I decided to watch it.<br />
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I had never been in love before, or even had a boyfriend (aside from the boy you'd hold hands with in the playground in year 7), and expected a video depicting all the highs and lows of a relationship. However, this was different. Alexa's video didn't just talk about romantic relationships - she spoke about family, about friends. She did it in an ambiguous way, never specifically saying names - and, whilst I know it'll never be as beautiful and heartfelt as hers, I am attempting to do replicate this today. (If you fancy watching, which I totally recommend you do - here's the link <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBP7jJspHuw" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBP7jJspHuw</a><br />
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Here's my version - 'To All The Boys I've Loved and Lost'.<br />
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<b>To the first,</b><br />
Losing you was, and will always be, the most painful thing I will ever endure. I miss everything about you - your infectious smile, your laugh, the kindness of you heart. I still wake up and hope its all been a horrific dream, but then reality sets into place. I want you back, even just to see your face one last time - but I know that that will never happen. My eyes close at night, and all I see is your face. Your long eyelashes, your smattering of freckles.<br />
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I wish with my whole heart you were still here, and I know that's for purely selfish reasons. I want you to give me advice and hug me when it seems like everything in the entire world is going wrong - which happens more than often these days. I want you to resent the boys who break my heart, and promise me that no matter what, you never will. I want you to realise that my insides still scream, wishing it was me who was gone - not you. I want you at my wedding, smiling at the sidelines and comforted by the fact that I'd found someone who loves me just as much as you do. <i>Just as much as you did.</i><br />
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Losing you was the becoming of me, I had to fight harder than any battle not to let my world become clouded with grief and despair. I had to fight for happiness, yet I still don't feel worthy of it. It's as though every good thing is overshadowed with this overwhelming guilt that I can't seem to shake off. Why do I get to experience all these great things - University, having fun with my friends, going on holiday with our family - when all of that was ripped away from you?<br />
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All this unfairness, all this anger. I feel it simmering inside of me, and I don't know what to do with it. It's been almost two and a half years, and I'm not quite sure I'll ever stop yearning for your presence. Whether I'll ever stop being so unbearably sad without it.<br />
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I love you, and I always will.<br />
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<b>To the second,</b><br />
You were my everything. In times of grief, you'd be the one to pick me up and encourage me that I'm a lot stronger than I think. Making you proud was absolutely everything to me - it still is. We had a special bond, the only way I can describe it is like this;<br />
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I doubted myself for years, I still do. You saw something inside of me that no one else seemed to. You saw the intelligence and the potential that was hidden by the insecurities and the crippling self doubt. You made me shine, and I miss your encouragement and approval with every ounce of my being.<br />
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I wouldn't be where I am today without you, I know that for a fact. The only reason I'm here is because I started to believe in myself - I started to realise that my talents and dreams didn't have to be the same as everyone else's. The way your eyes would light up when you'd see me gave me a purpose, and losing that hurts me beyond belief.<br />
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It all happened so quick, time ran out faster than I could ever begin to comprehend. That's the problem with humanity - we always think we have so much time, when time is the one thing that we don't have.<br />
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I miss your grumpy face, and watching the joy in your face when you'd eat dessert. I miss being someone's favourite person.<br />
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Thank you for always being the light in my life.<br />
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<b>To the third,</b><br />
It hurts me to write this. Part of me doesn't want to. I don't want to feel the things that I've tried so hard to repress. I don't want to admit that the hurt is still there, and that I feel like it always will be.<br />
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I'm angry at you, but more so at myself. For giving someone else the power to hurt me - when I knew I couldn't handle it. It's funny isn't it, how it's the people who you never think will hurt you - always end up hurting you the most.<br />
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Because there's a feeling that comes with rejection - and that is <i>inadequacy. </i>I've lay in bed countless times wondering why I wasn't good enough, replaying situations in my head and thinking about what I could've done differently.<br />
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I can't bring myself to delete the pictures and the silly videos I have of us on my phone, and whenever I accidentally stumble upon them I feel my heart break a million times over again.<br />
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I've tried everything to stop thinking about you - distractions, other people. It all just feels like one big show. I can't pretend not to be hurting, when it's all I'm ever doing. Loving you was the greatest, but also the most painful thing I ever did. I guess you can't keep putting plasters on someone else's scraped knees, when your own legs are broken.<br />
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I'm not going to say I wish I'd never met you, because that is so far from the truth. You made me happier than I felt I'd ever been before, and for that I'll always be grateful. Without realising, you filled the void of pain - at least for a little while.<br />
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I could never be entirely open with you, and for that I apologise profusely. I'm sorry that I couldn't open up and let you in. I guess that's what pushed you away - and whilst I'll never know the full truth, that's going to remain my educated guess.<br />
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The truth is, I know I need to be alone for a while. It's unfair to let someone else in when you know in your heart that you're not ready for it. I thought I was - and maybe that's true - but I wasn't ready for the ending. I've lost people in more horrific circumstances, yet this one affected me more than I was prepared for.<br />
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Apparently it takes getting everything you've ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is, and I guess that's the brutal truth. I want to be alone for enough time to feel settled and comfortable in myself, and I can't do that with someone else depending on me.<br />
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Maybe our paths will cross again someday, and by then the pain will have disappeared - or, at least, subsided. Thank you for giving me a taste of what true happiness is, even if it was only for a short time.<br />
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I will always want the best for you.<br />
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Thank you so much for reading, I promise I'll write about something happy one day.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-4791650175257786682018-07-16T21:24:00.000+01:002018-07-16T21:24:04.270+01:00Yorkshire Three Peaks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As a sibling, you live with the notion that you'd move mountains for your brother or sister. Due to tragic circumstances, and the impossible nature of a metaphor - I decided to walk them instead. </div>
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I think everyone who has taken part in climbing the Yorkshire Three Peaks will admit that it is most certainly a challenge - and, if not, you must be some sort of superhero. Not only was the 12 hour trek a difficulty in itself, but waking up at 5am was the icing on an already monstrous cake.<br />
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5am, the time my sister (Alice) and I are usually returning home from a night on the town, yet this Saturday morning we were awakening in our bunk beds to the harsh shrill of the alarm clock. Whilst I had anticipated that I would be tired and delirious, and - to put it politely - a little on the moody side, this was certainly not the case as I awoke full of nervous energy and excitement for the challenge that lay before us.<br />
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My mother, the most organised and excitable person I know, had arranged for us all to wear matching t-shirts and bandanas sporting the Brain Tumour Charity logo. Our team of ten (fabulous) women arrived at the foot of the mountain looking like a rather large girl band - except none of us could sing or dance (especially by the end of the 12 hours!).<br />
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I wish I could sit here and write that it started off gently, easing us into the first mountain - yet that was hardly the case. From the get go we were ascending uphill which was made rather difficult due to two key factors - the first one being how early it was in the morning (I can assure you that I don't usually start my day by plummeting up mountains), and the second (and most important) factor being my giddy mother shouting (and expecting a) 'GROUP PHOTO' every five minutes. <i>Or so it seemed, I have been told that I do sometimes have the tendency to exaggerate every so slightly ...</i><br />
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When we arrived at the top of the first mountain, I think I can speak for us all when I say we were thanking our lucky stars that we were still alive. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure it was at the point where we were having to scramble up rocks bigger than ourselves to reach the top of Pen-y-ghent when I realised that perhaps this was going to be a bit more than 'walking up and down a couple of hills'.<br />
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The first peak was out of the way, and we were all on a high - with adrenaline cursing through our bodies, we were ready to take on the next. We plodded along, and along - oh, and along! - for what seemed like days, months, years. I was starting to become convinced that I would be finishing this walk sporting grey hair and a walking stick (the latter wasn't too far wrong) - it genuinely seemed like an eternity had passed before we reached the base of Whernside.<br />
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When walking, especially uphill, I have the tendency to speed on ahead - wanting to reach the top as quickly as possible, without having time to think about the aching muscles in my legs, or the blisters on my feet. Upon reaching the top of Whernside, I was ready for a sit down - which, due to the steepest plummet downhill I have ever encountered in my life, happened upon descending the mountain.<br />
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Much to my mother's concern, which - worryingly - was only directed towards the new jacket I'd purchased especially for the occasion, I managed to survive falling over and sliding down the mountain without breaking any bones, suffering any major injuries or - more importantly - ripping my jacket.<br />
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After we all made it to the bottom safe and alive, we began our journey towards Ingleborough. I know I'm right in saying that we were all beginning to have had enough by now. I think we were all expecting to saunter through this challenge laughing and chatting away - which, of course, we did - but there came a point when even Lindsey Upton stopped talking, and that's when I began to worry.<br />
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I kept mind setting that there was just one more mountain to go, and then I'd finally have accomplished a challenge that I was so desperate to achieve. It was at this point where I began to summon strength from different places and my mind began to wander to the strongest sense of courage and determination I have ever witnessed - that of my brother, Luke.<br />
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I don't want to make this post sad and heart wrenching, because the experience of the Yorkshire Three Peaks was anything but that, yet I can't ignore the reason why I, and the nine other remarkable women I was walking alongside, were putting ourselves through this strenuous task.<br />
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Luke was, and will always continue to be, the strongest person I have ever met. The things he was exposed to, and experienced, from such a young age were horrifying - and things that no one should ever have to go through, especially not at fifteen years old. No matter how tough it got, Luke would always fight it with a smile on his face - and in times when I need it most, I think about this and take both strength and inspiration from it.<br />
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Despite it being the most horrific couple of years, I know that I have changed in many positive ways. I look at things differently to how I know I would've if none of this had happened, and everything is met with a perspective that an abundance of people are so lucky not to have. In times where I am struggling, I look at the wider picture and almost laugh at myself for how ridiculous I am being - a couple of blisters and muscle pain doesn't even come close to what my beautiful brother went through, and during the walk I kept reminding myself of this. My ultimate goal in life is to make Luke proud, and I truly felt like I was doing that - which spurred me on even more.<br />
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With this in mind, I hurtled towards Ingleborough - yet we all stopped in our tracks when we saw what lay before us. Again, like my brother, my sister Alice is of the strong and determined kind - but even she faltered a little upon seeing the steepness of rocks we needed to clamber up in order to reach the top of the third, and final, peak.<br />
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Clutching jelly babies in our hands, and determination cursing through our veins, we all began to clamber up the rocks. Grown men were struggling, particularly the ones who had thought they were invincible and chugged countless pints the night before, yet we all managed to succeed in reaching the top.<br />
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Powered by adrenaline and sheer delight, I turned around to everyone and (rather smugly) stated that I was having a great time and would definitely do this again. It was typical that I didn't think before I spoke, and it definitely came to bite me in the buttocks later on.<br />
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What I had failed to realise was that after reaching the summit, there was a long journey to the finish line. As each step became more and more painful, I began to realise just how tired I truly was. Climbing three mountains isn't something that I am used to, especially not in the space of 12 hours. The journey to the end seemed like it was never ending, and I hold my hands up and admit that I limped and hobbled my way to the finish line - something which I know Luke would've been laughing at from above.<br />
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The relief upon finishing was a feeling which I am yet to put into words, but as I looked round at the exhausted but proud faces of our amazing 'Yorkie Three Peak' team, I was met with an overwhelming sense of happiness. We had done it! Despite the blisters which were the size of babies heads, the numb feeling in our legs and the sheer and painful exhaustion, we had set our minds to the challenge - and we had completed it!<br />
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I will always look back on that weekend with fondness and happiness, knowing that I have achieved something because I truly set my mind to it. However, I not only owe that to the 'mind over matter' eros, but also to the support from the people walking alongside me. My mum (Lynne), Alice and our friends Ellie, Anna, Clare, Amanda, Lindsey, Frances and Sally are all the most upbeat and encouraging people - who we know we are so lucky to be surrounded by, and who we couldn't have done this without.<br />
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Despite their own hardships, they have continued to support us - not only on this trek, but also throughout the past couple of years.<br />
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Among us all, we managed to hit our target of raising £2,500 for the Brain Tumour Charity - and I can't even begin to thank the lovely people who donated enough. Knowing that I have done something in order to raise money to fund critical research into a disease which is so horrendous, is an absolute honour - and whilst at the time I swore I'd never do anything like this again, I know I'd do it 1,000 times over if it meant both raising money, and also honouring my beautiful brother Luke.<br />
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Now, here's to the next challenge!<br />
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Thank you so much for reading.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x </span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-15857228964519568512018-02-08T16:04:00.004+00:002018-02-08T16:33:39.723+00:00Conflict with Christianity Religion. It's a subject which only recently I have found myself becoming vocal about. Whilst there's no doubt that I was brought up in the thick of it; my father's side a strong Irish Catholic, my mother's an opposing Protestant, it never equated to me being particularly passionate about it.<br />
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I had the full hog: a Christening; Confirmation; Sunday School and expected to attend the service most Sunday's. Whether it was the words which were spoken, or the fact that it was something I was forced to attend - going to Church became associated with a chore-like task, and something that I most definitely wasn't interested in.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, there was always one aspect which I truly adored - and that was the people who attended. I longed for the service to end so that I could chat to the congregation, and answer their questions of how school was going and what I was up to - not because they were making small talk or felt obliged to do so, but because they were genuinely interested in what I had to say.<br />
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It was the community feel of the Church which I enjoyed, and still to this day nothing makes my day more than bumping into one of the familiar faces on the street, and catching up on all that has changed since I last attended the 10am service on a Sunday morning.<br />
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However, then everything changed. I'm sure most of you will be aware of what I am alluding to here, and for this reason I hope this post isn't viewed as offensive - as it is simply my opinion, and one that I truly believe I have a right to have.<br />
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When people go through hard times, some of them tend to cling to God in the hope that He will help them see the light - that he has a big plan as to <i>why </i>what's happened has occurred. They lean on this benevolent figure to guide them through their pain and find a meaning to their suffering.<br />
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I'm not going to pretend like I wasn't originally one of those people. When I found out the news that the life of someone who was supposed to lead a long and happy one by my side was about to be cut short, I tried everything to diminish the power of the inevitable.<br />
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I prayed for miracles: I prayed for the possibility of a wrong diagnosis; for extra time - I even prayed for time reversal which would involve me being the one who was dying, and not the person who was so utterly undeserving of it. I tried everything I could, and when nothing worked I began to become very angry and bitter at the world. The thought that there was someone controlling this, and making us suffer in this kind of severity that we were, and are, led me to overpowering resentment - one that I still feel to this day.<br />
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I have been asked whether I blame God for what has happened, and my answer is simply no. Mainly because I don't believe he exists. I think it would be much more offensive for me to push the blame onto someone, as it is to not believe in them. However, because of this, the blame is pushed onto myself. Trust me, I would completely love to push this soul - crushing guilt onto someone, or something, else in order to not have to feel it anymore - but I can't. I can't pretend to have faith in an ideology when nothing about it seems like the truth, and I don't see why I should have to apologise for, or feel bad about, that.<br />
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Yet, then comes the issue of heaven. Whilst I would love nothing more than to believe that all my loved ones are reunited up in the sky, it's something that no matter how hard I attempt to conjure it up, I truly cannot be convinced. I remember sitting in a councillor's office and being asked what I believe happens when we die. Before I even had the chance to think properly, I answered by saying that I believe we live the same life over and over again, in different Universes, and in different instances of time.<br />
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Whilst I uttered these words long before any of what was meant to be occurred, it's an ideology that still to this day I take great comfort in, and has helped me so much throughout the grieving process. The thought that somewhere, in an alternate Universe, I am still experiencing the most wonderful childhood with my beautiful brother and sister is one which keeps me going on the hardest of days, and something that I know I will forever cherish.<br />
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However, on the other hand I have to address my political conflicts with the idea of God. In a conversation with my fantastic friend Ella Baxter, I was recommended a film called 'I am Michael' (which is on Netflix, if you are interested in watching ... I completely recommend that you do).<br />
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The film follows Michael Glatze, who was one of the most recognised gay activists in America. Upon starting his own magazine for young gay men, campaigning for gay rights and speaking in Universities about normalising gay culture, he began to start experiencing panic attacks so severe that he was convinced he was going to die. As I mentioned before, the hard times are when people seem to turn to God, and this is exactly what Glatze did. As he became more invested in the teachings of the bible, he began to question his own sexuality - concluding that he's been living a lie, proceeding to very publicly announce that he has changed, and that being gay is a sin.<br />
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One thing which struck me as particularly important in this story is that Michael couldn't simply be gay <i>and </i>a Christian, instead he had to choose one or the other.<br />
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Whilst this occurrence was over a decade ago, and I would love nothing more than to believe that society has significantly improved since then, I am aware that it hasn't completely. Still to this day, there is a stigma surrounding homosexual couples and religion, and the thought of that exasperates me. Churches drill into us from a young age to 'love thy neighbour as thyself', yet is this only to be evokes if 'thy neighbour[s]' are Adam and Eve-esque figures; a white, heterosexual, Christian couple?<br />
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I believe what angers, and worries, me the most is that the Bible is interpreted in a way which typically projects Western values, and if impressionable figures are led to believe from a young age that this book is 'The Word of God', then we can never truly amount to social change. How are we expected to reform society when the next generations are being held back by teachings which fail to include and celebrate the minorities?<br />
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The truth is, and to put this bluntly, I don't believe in Capitalism, I don't believe in social hierarch, and I don't believe in idolisation, so I most definitely do not believe (or want to believe) that there's a dominant force in the sky dictating and controlling human life. I think a problem with religion is that people believe it provides us with answers when, really, we're asking the wrong kinds of questions.<br />
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Thank you for reading,<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-61242843334036010802018-01-05T16:25:00.002+00:002018-01-05T16:25:47.679+00:00University: The Honest TruthI haven't written on here for what feels like an eternity, and instead of conjuring up an excuse - I'm just going to be brutally honest ... life got in the way. I'm not going to act like I haven't missed this, in fact it's been <i>soul destroying </i>and there have been many occasions where I've grabbed my laptop and tried to force myself to write something - yet ended up staring at a blank screen for what felt like hours until I admitted defeat and gave up.<br />
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On September 17th 2017, I started a new chapter in my life; otherwise known as University. If you remember my previous posts, you will be aware that for the longest time I 'ummed' and 'ahhhd' over whether I wanted to take this direction, or whether I wanted to be thrust into the working world - following my dreams through experience and graft as opposed to the academic route.<br />
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However, after much deliberation - which involved tears, stress and finger nail biting (disgusting behaviour, I'm sorry) - I finally decided that this was the option for me. And, on that hideous day in August, I was accepted into a Leeds University - and, truly, I don't think I've ever been happier.<br />
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So, fast forward a month or so - and here I was! The day before had been traumatic, we had dropped my sister off (which, if it wasn't bad enough that my best friend of 18 years was being torn apart from me, we were leaving her in HULL *shivers*) (if anyone who is reading this is from Hull, I can only apologise).<br />
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My mum and dad came to drop me off, and instead of the emotional goodbye that they were expecting - I practically kicked them out the door. I was finally independent - and boy, was I ready. A large glass of wine later, and I'm knocking on my flatmates doors - ready to suss out the kind of people I was going to be living with.<br />
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The first few days were weird, I have to admit. I had high expectations, yet reality didn't seem to fulfil them. Don't get me wrong, I met some absolutely lovely people - and the fresh start was truly what I needed ; yet I completely underestimated how homesick I would actually be. This was the first time I have EVER felt truly alone, and without being all doom and gloom - for the first couple of weeks I didn't know if I was ready to be.<br />
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What made it worse was seeing how much fun everyone else seemed to be having - and for this sole reason, alongside many others of course, I believe that social media truly is a curse. Here I was sat in my room, feeling completely lonely and - to put it lightly - down, whilst scrolling through Instagram, Facebook and Snapchat to see everyone else having the time of their lives.<br />
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My mum must've been completely sick of me - I would ring her almost every night asking pointless questions such as 'What've you had for tea?', 'What've you done today?' and 'What are you doing tomorrow?', and she was most definitely having a better time than me - gallivanting around Cheshire with my Dad which they referred to as 'Date Nights' yet most definitely was covering up the fact that they were celebrating as they had finally gotten rid of us.<br />
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So, like all bad times - things did begin to get better. Once I stopped EXPECTING to be having the time of my life, I finally began to. My course started, and I fell in love with it - further reinforcing that this truly was the decision for me. I began to make new friends, start doing things I truly enjoy and go out ... a lot. And as I got speaking to various different people, I realised that everything I had felt during Freshers Week was completely common and <i>normal - </i>which truly was a great relief to hear.<br />
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Throughout this period, if there's one thing I've realised - it's that you can't be friends with <i>everyone </i>you meet. Sure, you can have a good attempt at it - but you're not going to click and find a connection with every person you encounter, and that's just life. Eventually you <b>will</b> meet <i>your </i>kind of people if you're patient and put yourself out of your comfort zone - I promise you.<br />
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Things may also surprise you too - you may bump into old friends in the most unlikely of places. One thing that I most certainly never saw coming was being reunited with a group I had met in Magaluf on a girls' holiday (classy, I know) - it truly is such a small world.<br />
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The September - December semester was one which I thought was going to feel like a lifetime, yet whizzed by and instead felt like days. However, the mass alcohol consumption, daily list of chores and chronic fatigue meant that I was ready to come home and be treated like a Princess by my family (yet, admittedly, I am still waiting for this to happen.)<br />
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But, once I was home - it wasn't how I expected. Don't get me wrong, seeing my family and friends again was everything I had hoped for and more ; but it just felt kind of ... <i>strange? </i>It's amazing how quickly you become accustomed to a certain way of life, a new list of habits - and to have all this flipped upside down was a weird dynamic. When you're at Uni, you're missing your home life and your loved ones - but when you're at Home you're missing your Uni life and friends ... there really is no win-win situation.<br />
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So, to sum up the past 4 months or so of my life - there have most definitely been some extreme lows, but many extreme highs. I have learnt so much about myself, things that I hadn't realised prior to this experience - the main one of these being that no matter how much I often feel like I'm not; I am strong, resilient and capable of getting through some extremely shitty (pardon the french) times.<br />
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I am always hopeful of a better future, and although these Christmas holidays have been heart wrenching, emotionally draining and brought with them a fresh set of grief (due to family circumstances), I know that like all negative aspects of my life, if I'm patient I will get through it.<br />
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This post was most definitely not written to scare or put off anyone who is yet to embark on their University experience, instead it was my way of showing that feeling homesick, lonely, frustrated and fed up - no matter how ready you think you are - is all completely normal. People don't realise that it's a lot of change coming all at once - and for it to be a shock to the system is <i>natural</i>. (And for those people who haven't experienced any of this - you GO GIRL (or boy) ... you must have balls of steel).<br />
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Thank you so much for reading, and I really do AIM to have my weekly blog post schedule back (if I don't, you have full permission to shout at me!).<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-87214575754426984382017-09-13T13:52:00.000+01:002017-09-13T14:01:27.788+01:00American Love Affair I always had high expectations of this summer - there was no doubt in my mind that it would be, excuse the cliché, 'The Best Summer of My Life', yet I feel that these many weeks have surpassed even my wildest form of imagination. These few months have taught me and have given me so much, to the point that I know I will always look back on them with the fondest memories in my heart.<br />
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I fell in love this Summer - with people, with places, with ideas/concepts - and, I guess, with life again. Thanks to my incredible parents, I was able to visit an abundance of different places - some of which feel more like home to me than the place in which I currently reside.<br />
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New York. I don't believe I'll ever be able to find the words to describe the love I now have for this place. It still feels like a dream to me, yet whenever I shut my eyes I see the iridescent glow of Times Square - a vision which I hope never fades away from my memories.<br />
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I felt whole in this city, complete - a feeling which I particularly needed at the time, yet never expected I could find in a <i>city</i>. Perhaps that's the problem with humanity - we rely on the wrong things to make us feel like we deserve our existence.<br />
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I looked around the streets, at the passers by, and experienced this notion that everyone there was a somebody. Everyone was striving to be something, to achieve something; for greatness. I guess my love for the city is not entirely based on the way it looks - it has more to do with the <i>way it makes me feel.</i><br />
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Despite the 6am starts, the heart-wrenching numbness I felt upon entering the 9/11 museum and the grid lock traffic which turned the 'night bus tour' into what felt like a two and a half hour imprisonment in a freezer - I don't think I have ever experienced such a vast amount of happiness in such a short space of time. (My face physically aches from smiling / my legs physically ache from getting lost in Central Park because Alice enjoys giving wrong directions and then refuses to admit defeat ... ah, Sisters, hey! Gotta love them)<br />
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After having the trip planned for so long - and I'm truly not being my over-exaggerating self when I say this, but we must've been discussing New York for at least 6/7 years now - there was a slight worry that my ever-growing high expectations of the place may leave me disappointed yet, as I mentioned before, even my most obscure and colourful daydreams could ever have conjured up the city which captured my heart from the moment I stepped off the plane. I guess that's the problem with dreams, there's the comfort of having them in the far distance, yet the moment they begin to become tangible is the minute human nature enraptures us with blind panic.<br />
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I'm sure that even if you've made it this far, you're beginning to tire of the gushings and musings of what may appear to some as an atrociously smelling city built off of commercialism, but I guess that we all find beauty in different things - I mean, how boring would it be if we didn't?<br />
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New York means everything to me. At a time when I was feeling particularly lost, with things happening too quickly and leaving me constantly searching for breath, I feel like I have now been pointed in the right direction. Maybe I am being my over dramatic self when I say that this place made me figure out who I am and what I want - but it sure as hell feels like a strong influence.<br />
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There's still so much that I want to say, so many stories and little quirks that I want to share, yet it's currently 2:48am and the squiggles in my notebook are beginning to look less like words and more like incoherent shapes - which I know will prove a strenuous task once I begin to type this up.<br />
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So, NYC, I guess that's that. There's no doubt in my now fuzzy mind that I'll return to you one day - and I do wonder how different my life may be then. Maybe I'll be sat on the subway with the love of my life, or perhaps my aspirations of becoming a journalist will turn into a reality and I may find a job at the New York Times. However, I'm adamant that whatever the circumstances may be - I'll be truly happy because I am back there.<br />
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You've allowed me to dream again, to feel <i>alive, </i>and for that I can't be anything short of grateful.<br />
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Thank you so much for reading!<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-76064448926165412232017-08-20T10:49:00.000+01:002017-08-20T10:49:03.008+01:00Expectations Vs RealityFor the past couple of hours I've been sat in my bedroom reading through old blog posts, and I have been struck with so many different feelings and emotions it is appearing difficult to even begin to comprehend them. From the very start of my 'blogging' journey I've been completely honest and open about my feelings towards school, and the overpowering sense of self doubt that I have battled through the entirety of my educational journey. For weeks I have been wanting to write a post about results day, and how getting good grades isn't the be all and end all - but, in all honesty, I knew in my heart that I couldn't write that post. Not because I didn't believe in that statement - because, trust me, I completely do - but because I knew that regardless of how strongly I publicised that point and how many people I attempted to comfort by doing so, if my grades weren't 'good' then it would completely destroy me.<br />
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I just didn't want to think about it at all, and every time someone mentioned the dreaded 'results day' I would change the subject or simply beg them to talk about something else.<br />
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I feel like there's so much pressure nowadays to be top achievers with phenomenal grades - and, if I'm perfectly honest, I believe that a large extent of the blame for this is lenient towards social media. Although I'm extremely passionate about Media Studies, so should therefore (stereotypically) be in awe of the progressions the digital age has enabled society, I can't help but think in situations like this it does more harm than good.<br />
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The day before results day was horrific. I couldn't look at my phone without feeling sick to my stomach, and going on Twitter and Facebook to see everyone panicking about the inevitability of 'tomorrow' was setting me off too. (However, this was soon rectified on results day with everyone congratulating each other & showing off how proud they were of both their friends and themselves - something which, of course, I can relate to).<br />
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Now that everything has slotted into perspective, without the disastrous '17th August' hovering over us whilst we try and enjoy the longest (and, perhaps, best) summer of our entire lives, I officially feel like I can breathe again, and think about things in a proper and less terrified manner.<br />
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Obviously, I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I got phenomenal results because, truth be told, I didn't. A* A* A* was never going to be on the cards, and that's okay! For some people it is, and that's absolutely fantastic - (shoutout to my AMAZING friend Ella, who absolutely NAILED IT!) - but everyone is different and I guess that's what makes life so exciting. I ended up with AABC, which, whilst it didn't allow me to get into my firm choice University, (Newcastle, you'll see me one day I promise) it was still better than I ever hoped and expected I would achieve. (In all honesty, it hasn't quite yet sunk in).<br />
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So, the point of this post was definitely not to be me bragging, and I truly do hope that it hasn't come across in that way - I guess it's just a bundle of excitement and disbelieve combined into a complete and utter ramble (how unlike me!). Whilst I want to write about how far I have come - particularly from my post 'What are you good at?' (<a href="http://www.gracyviolet.co.uk/2016/11/what-are-you-good-at.html" target="_blank">http://www.gracyviolet.co.uk/2016/11/what-are-you-good-at.html</a>) in which I touched on my struggles with academia - I also wanted to send out a message to people who didn't do as well as they hoped they would.<br />
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As most people reading this will be aware, I have a sister called Alice who is the same age as me. She is honestly the most determined person I know, and whilst I could write all day about how much I look up to her, I don't want this post to turn into an entire novel (which, at the rate it's going... perhaps may not be too far off). So, as I'm sure she won't mind me saying, her results weren't quite as good as she was expecting - which meant that she wasn't able to get into her choices of University. Now, whilst for the average person this may have completely destroyed them and left them moping about, unmotivated and miserable, this was not the case for her.<br />
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Obviously, she was heartbroken - which, without a doubt, is completely understandable - but I believe her strength of character completely shone through on that horrendous day. Like I said, instead of the expected reaction, she simply got herself up, brushed herself off and proceeded to ring up different Universities and find herself a place - which, of course, she managed to do. To say I'm proud of her would be an understatement - and it truly made me realise just how little the grades you get actually mean in the grand scheme of things. Alice knew that she wanted to get into University, that was her end goal, so she gave it her all and now - here she is!<br />
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Without going all philosophical and deep, there truly is more to life than obtaining top grades. Obviously, if you can achieve this without literally destroying yourself then, of course, go for it! But in all seriousness, there is more important things you could be doing than stressing about school. Whenever I used to have my regular meltdowns about school, my dad used to come into my room, sit me down, and tell me that at the end of the day all it boils down to is character. Whilst some people may achieve top grades, that doesn't automatically make them better than you. They may be a horrible person, or they may not be able to present themselves in a way which would make them stand out to employers.<br />
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Whilst we must've had this conversation countless times, it was only after experiencing extremely difficult circumstances that I realised just how insignificant grades are, and it truly made me question why I was putting so much pressure on myself. At the end of the day, the impact you make in life and on the people you meet, doesn't boil down to how well you did at school. No one will remember you for getting good grades, they will remember you for the kind of person you were. I guess from a personal viewpoint I've always known exactly what I've wanted, and strived in order to achieve that. Yet, I knew that this time around I wanted to have fun <b><i>as well as</i></b> working hard. I wanted to go out and experience life, have fun with my friends, see my family yet still work towards achieving my dreams.<br />
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I guess this is also where this 'blogging' thing comes into place. I know I mention it a lot, and please believe me when I say that I don't do it for sympathy - but I do have a hard time in believing in myself, and that is the God honest truth. I can't pinpoint why, and when it started, but it is a constant battle which I'm unsure will ever truly be resolved. However, through doing my blog alongside revision, it truly spurred me on and motivated me. My mind has the most annoying habit of wandering in the most inconvenient of times, and even if I had a text book in front of me - or was reading through revision notes - sometimes I wouldn't even be properly focused on the words, all I could think about was anything BUT what I was supposed to be.<br />
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By having this platform, I was able to just release everything onto the page, getting it out there so I didn't have to think about it any longer. And, when people began to express that they enjoyed what I was doing, it encouraged me even more. To be told I was good at something which I genuinely loved and was passionate about acted as the motivation I needed, and the extremely stereotypically (yet one of my all time favourite) quotation 'She believed she could, so she did' began to be incorporated into my life.<br />
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I can hand on heart say that you will only achieve success, and get where you want to once you begin to believe in yourself. Your harshest critic will always be yourself, and once you begin to break down those barriers you are capable of just about anything. Whilst I feel like I'm being paid by my school to endorse their 'Dream, Believe, Achieve' statement, I can't help but feel that however cringey it may be, it really is the truth.<br />
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"Success is not final; failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts"<br />
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I hope you're having a lovely Summer and that, if you got results, everything has worked out well for you. I promise you that everything happens for a reason, and if things haven't ended up in the way that you expected they would, then be patient - things will soon become clear again.<br />
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Hopefully see (speak to!) you very soon.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-73405069711978072602017-07-17T20:18:00.000+01:002017-07-17T20:18:29.001+01:00The Importance of Memories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not going to lie to you, I've been in a bit of a rut lately. Whilst I promised myself that this summer I would be writing more than I would be breathing, which acted as motivation to get me through revision, I never factored in that maybe I would be stumbling across the keys - desperately trying to conjure up something to write about. Although for a large section of the year I've managed to find a topic to write about pretty much every single week, it's proven difficult when I've finally had all the time in the world to do it, yet found myself unable to do so.<br />
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You may wonder what it is that's got in the way of this, and whilst I'm scrambling my brain trying to come up with a good enough excuse - all I can really find is that sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes all you have to do is blink, and then the day has passed. and the next. and the next.<br />
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I've written before about my infatuation with time, and the speed at which it passes. It never fails to baffle me how sometimes you can feel the full capacity of an hour, yet others you can completely lose track of the clock ticking round. Thankfully, my summer so far has been entirely based on the latter of the two. It has been pretty much non-stop, and for me that is the greatest.<br />
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Whilst I'm pretty certain that anyone unlucky enough to have me across various social media platforms may be sick to death of me banging on about my 'girls holiday' to Magaluf (or Palma Nova, depending on who I'm discussing it with), I just wanted to mention it one last time. This was a week in my life where I was genuinely the happiest I have ever been for that length of time, and I cannot even begin to find the words to describe what an amazing time I had. I know it's cliché to use the expression 'I never stopped laughing', but it is honestly the truth - I laughed so much I think I may have damaged my body completely (alongside the copious amounts of drinking, too - lets not ignore that).<br />
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Whilst it doesn't sound particularly exotic or fancy (and trust me, if the food we consumed was anything to go by - it most definitely was not) but I can honestly say it was one of the best experiences of my entire life. Now, although I would enjoy nothing more than to sit here and type out the countless stories I have of this trip, I am going to refrain from doing so - whilst I love nothing more than embarrassing my friends, I think this would be going a step too far (plus, Georgina, I think your life would be ruined forever). </div>
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I guess what made this trip that extra bit special was the escapism from reality for a bit. How you could be anyone, do anything - no matter how stupid or embarrassing (ahem, Georgina) and just live life without thinking about the stresses of the mundane life you lead back home. How you could wake up in the morning, feel the heat and the sunshine on your face, and know that today would be a good day - and completely different from everything you could ever experience back home.</div>
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However, not to turn things all doom and gloom, but coming home was when things started to go a bit pear shaped. Whilst my heart is full of the happy memories I have of the trip, sometimes coming back down to reality can often hit me hard. For a full week, I could be care-free and not think about anything other than which cocktail (or two, or three or... lets not go there) I was going to order that evening. I could escape in the sense that I was a nobody, and everyone who I met it was based on first impressions - something which, I'm going to be honest, was a breath of fresh air.<br />
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I felt more myself that week than I have for a long time, and I can't help but smile every single time a memory pops into my head, or I hear a song which reminds me of the nights we had there. And, I guess as the title of this post goes, memories truly are the most important thing. Not only do they comfort you in the darkest of times, they also exert masses of happiness too. I'm not going to act like this experience was life changing, because - lets be honest, I wasn't building homes in LEDC's or doing charity work, but, in an entirely selfish way, it was exactly what I needed - and I know that if my summer carries on being just as fantastic as it is so far, then it will truly equate to being 'The Best Summer Ever'.<br />
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Thank you so much for reading my silly little ramble, and I can't wait to get back on track with my writing again.<br />
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See you soon!<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x </span><br />
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p.s. If you have any topics or suggestions as to what you'd like to see on this blog, then I would be over the moon to hear from you! xx<br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-76474842032877994802017-06-28T21:31:00.000+01:002017-06-28T21:31:39.646+01:00My Sister AliceHello there!<br />
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It's been a while, hasn't it? I know I always said that I would never let anything get in the way of my weekly blog posts, yet this statement was made before I realised the impact A levels would have on me. So, after that rocky and horrendous journey, I am now back and ready to write until my hearts content - and not in the form of essays or revision packs; Oh, how I have missed this!<br />
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So, here goes.<br />
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Alice always make jokes about me doing a blog post about her, and whilst I've always told her to 'get lost' (or something along those lines), the horrific events which have unfolded over the past few months have really taught me and made me realise many things - one of the main ones being to tell every person in your life just how much you love them as, unfortunately, we now live in a world where absolutely nothing is certain. Whilst that scares me beyond belief, there really is no other option than to learn and evolve from these tragedies, and I am trying my very best to remain positive in a world which is constantly being infiltrated with horrendous outcomes.<br />
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If you're not in the mood to cringe over me confessing my undying love for my favourite girl in the entire world, then I urge you to click off this page right now.<br />
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Alice,<br />
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I can't really remember a time when we've not been joined at the hip. We have spent pretty much every single day together since we were brought into this world 18 years ago - and whilst I haven't really made a conscious decision to allow you into my life, I know that if I was given the choice then I would 150% choose for you to be here (well, 99.9% of the time anyway).<br />
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Despite the fact it's inevitable we argue - and believe me, we have had screaming matches over the most ridiculous things (a favourite of mine being over who is making the cups of tea that particular evening, which happens way more than I'd care to admit) - we're laughing about it after 5 minutes, especially when one of us comes into the other ones room with their tail in between their legs, clutching a hot beverage as a form of apology.<br />
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Although I snap at you ever so often for the annoying things that you do -e.g. singing ALL the time, or having the most disturbing habit to squeeze me or cling to me when you're nervous - I have absolutely no doubt in the world that when we embark on our new journeys come September, I will miss you more than I ever thought possible. Thinking about us not seeing each other every day, and not going in your bedroom in the morning to see you cuddled up with that stupid stuffed Olaf that clings to your side, breaks my heart into a million pieces.<br />
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Although you often joke that I'll be FaceTiming you in a frenzy over how to cook pasta or wash my jeans, I know that I'll be coming up with any old excuse just so I can spend five minutes talking to the person who I genuinely don't believe I could go a day without speaking to.<br />
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We've always been close, yet this past year has brought us together in a way that no one could ever begin to understand. We lost the third member to our special team, and I can honestly say that your complete and utter strength in the hardest of times was, and still continues to be, the inspiration that I needed to get me out of the darkest of places.<br />
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You're powerful Alice, more so than I think you realise, and I truly wish you could see what I see. Nothing hurts me more than when I see you doubt yourself - you are truly the most beautiful person in the world to me. Not only are you utterly gorgeous (after Friday night, I think we have established that you're the best looking one ... when a guy approached me to say 'You're almost as pretty as your sister' ... thanks mate x), but you make me laugh in ways that no one else will ever begin to compete with.<br />
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Living in a house with someone who you share the exact same sense of humour with can sometimes be dangerous, especially during the exam season (I think we spent more time singing along to 'Our Songs' than I would ever care to admit) but if there's one thing we do well, it's working as a team. We only want the best for each other, and push each other to be the greatest versions of ourselves - and when I'm being lazy and need a kick up the bum, you're always the first one to offer that assistance.<br />
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My favourite time of the day is when we wash the dishes together after dinner - with the music blasting and us singing along slightly out of tune - (on my behalf, obviously) alongside a good old gossip session. I can honestly say it's times like this where I am my most happiest. You seem to bring all the joy in the world to every room you walk into, and despite the fact you can often appear shy when you meet new people, everyone who truly knows you thinks the absolute world of you.<br />
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One of my worst fears is losing you, and it's a terrifying concept what the world has come to - just being in the wrong place and the wrong time is proving to be indescribably dangerous. I wish I could wrap you up in cotton wool and spend every waking minute with you, but I guess we need to learn what it's like to be apart. We need to figure out what it's like to live without leaning on each other, without being defined as a twosome instead of as individuals.<br />
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However, that's not to say that I'm not always going to be here for you, you know that I always will be. Forever and always, you know that. Anytime, any day, any where. You're not only my sister, you're my best friend - my everything. I owe you everything, and I love you more than I will ever be able to explain. I truly hope you realise that.<br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-30422356727462658862017-05-10T18:59:00.002+01:002017-05-10T19:02:01.622+01:00To Anyone Who Is Currently Struggling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This week marks mental health awareness week, and I'm scrolling through various social media sites and being inundated with countless posts from brave, strong and inspiring people sharing their stories on the battles that they have faced/are currently going through. Some of these people are my friends, and some are strangers - yet I find myself hurting for all of them, regardless of whether I personally know them or not. I have this fixation on wanting to help every single person in the world, and the sheer inevitability that I can't genuinely destroys my soul. I find my happiness through making others happy, and whilst that's all well and good in my own circle, I unfortunately can't do that for every single person who is currently existing on this Earth.<br />
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Mental health is a topic which has always been regarded as taboo, yet lately there has been a massive shift in the way people have decided to communicate and share their personal experiences. I for one cannot begin to express my gratitude for this - firstly, for the general fact that the stigma surrounding the subject matter has ever so slightly started to ease and secondly, because I feel it gives me a better understanding of how to approach/talk to/attempt to help the people I love who are going through similar things.<br />
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Throughout the past year or so, I've had this fixation on writing letters - writing down the things I wish I could say to the people I wish I could converse with. Due to evident circumstances, I am unable to post them - instead leaving them lingering in various files on my laptop, or inking the pages of a notebook. As I mentioned in my previous blog post, there's a level of comfort I find from writing things down, that I am yet to find elsewhere - and whilst I will never get to send these letters, it sure as hell doesn't stop me from writing them. As human's we are filled with regret - always for the things we never got the chance to say - and I guess this helps ease this pain into something a bit more manageable.<br />
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I apologise for this waffling introduction, what I mean to say is that today I am going to write a letter that I will actually send, or publish, or however you want to interpret it. <i>'A letter to anyone who is currently struggling'</i> - here goes.<br />
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You,<br />
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You may be reading this with the toxic mindset that things won't get better. Whilst everyone around you seems to be thinking about the future, you're unsure as to whether you really have one. The emptiness fills you up, and you are unable to look beyond it. You are starting to lose focus on pretty much every aspect of your life, and the interests that you once had no longer exist. All you know is that things can't get much worse, and that they may not ever get better.<br />
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There's a constant feeling of loneliness which never seems to subside - no matter how many people you surround yourself with. Everything you thought you knew is no longer, and it's the scariest thing you will ever have to face. Simple things become a chore, and you will feel so far removed from reality that you begin to question pretty much everything in existence. You may start to look for distractions elsewhere, and at the time these may seem like a good idea - but ultimately, in the long run, they won't be. Allow yourself to feel, no matter how hard that may be. Everything that is happening to you is real, and raw, and painful but you have to allow yourself to feel it all before you can begin to conquer it.<br />
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<i>Confide in people. </i>I can't express the importance of this. Tell at least one person how you're feeling - no matter how scary this may be, it's the first baby step into making this all go away. It may seem easier to face it all on your own, because when you share it with someone then that's when it feels <i>real. </i>You can exist in your own mind, yet its once you begin to let others in which makes others worse. If you struggle to vocalise how you're feeling, and you feel that you may stumble and stutter upon your words - not being able to string together a sentence without messing it all up - then send a text. Use this as a starting point, and once you begin to gain courage you'll be able to talk about it. A sit down counselling session doesn't work for everyone - and it's not weird or pathetic if this doesn't work for you. Being in a room, one on one, with someone who you barely know and being expected to pour out your heart to them is especially terrifying, and giving up on that doesn't make you weak. Conversing with a friend, a parent, a family member, a teacher, a doctor (etc) can sometimes be just as helpful - I know that I always feel much better after a good cry and chat with one of my loved ones.<br />
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There are people who love you - please don't forget that. Whilst you may think you're worthless or that you don't matter to anyone, I promise you that you do. You may be the reason someone is currently smiling right now, the reason for someone's laugh, the reason that they are who they are. You have more power over people than you think, and your importance isn't something which is passing by unnoticed. Your loved ones will be hurting because they know that you are, and they would do anything possible to help you - but in order to do this you have to <i>let them in</i>. Your natural instinct may be to push them away, using the utterances 'I'm fine' or 'I'm just tired', yet if they care about you they won't leave your side. Here is where you will begin to find out who you really want in your life, who you know will stick by you through thick and thin - who will be there for you throughout the good times, yet also the bad. You will lose friends, yet the important ones will always remain by your side.<br />
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Things <i>do</i> get better. You just have to believe that they will. Persevere with it, telling yourself that with each passing day you are going to do one thing which makes you happy - and whilst this may be the longest journey you'll ever go on, I promise you that it will be worthwhile. Once you change your mindset, you will begin to look at things from a whole different perspective. You'll learn to focus on the good things, not letting your mind linger on the bad. You may begin to realise that certain things which once consumed your entire being no longer inhabit your mind - and that's okay. Change is a good thing, and sometimes its time for that.<br />
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You'll begin to feel the kind of happiness which you once believed only existed in fiction and other various forms of popular culture. You'll laugh until your stomach hurts with tears pouring down your face. You'll sit on a beach with the people who you love most, listening to the sounds of the waves and feeling the sand between your toes. You'll begin to see life as an <i>experience </i>instead of as a <i>challenge. </i>You'll wake up one day, and whilst things may not be as you imagined, they're better than the dull ache of sadness which is currently haunting you.<br />
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Hang on in there. It gets easier, I promise you.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-87388795846293249112017-04-26T18:03:00.002+01:002017-04-26T18:03:58.830+01:00Why I Started Writing<div>
One of my all time favourite YouTubers is Dottie James - if you haven't heard of her then I truly recommend you look her up. Instead of the conventional vlogs or challenge videos, Dottie produces beautiful videos of her spoken word poetry - an ultimate guilty pleasure of mine. This morning I stumbled across her most recent video titled 'Why I Started Writing' (you can find it <a href="https://youtu.be/GgEjPu8BrPI" target="_blank">here</a>), and it sparked an idea for what I was going to write about today. Whilst her video vocalises her reasons in a beautifully poetic manner, I know that it wouldn't be as successful if I attempted to replicate that - so, my deepest apologies, I guess I shall stick to my boringly literal drivel. </div>
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So, I guess I shall start from the beginning. For as long as I can remember, I've always had an interest in books. My parents always encouraged us to read, and a bedtime story at night was my favourite part of the day. Although I have vivid memories of the bed being cramped, and of us all arguing over who got to sit the closest to mum - I truly did enjoy it. I loved how words could string together in a sentence and form an instantaneous image in my head - how I could close my eyes when listening to my mum read and picture exactly what she was talking about. </div>
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Creativity has always been a massive part of my life - and my imagination has always been a force to be reckoned with. For most of my childhood I had an utter infatuation with fairies, with most of the books on my bookshelf being coherent of this subject matter. I adored how something fictional (a fact I have only recently come to terms with) could be made to feel so real - making me truly believe that the trees at the bottom of my garden were inhibited with these beautiful mythical creatures. Whilst the illustrations in the books were always stunning, my main focus was always on the words. The intricate details being described, enough to make my wildest dreams inherent a sense of reality. </div>
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As I got older, creative / personal writing became more encouraged in English lessons, and I began to gain a real sense of enjoyment for it. Whilst school has never been something I can. hand on heart. say I enjoy, it was in my English lessons where I finally found a sense of sanctuary - where I could express my thoughts, desires and opinions in my own personal way. As I've mentioned before, science and maths were subjects I completely and utterly struggled with - I guess my mind just isn't programmed in that way, and as I developed a clear interest for English, I began to realise that that was okay. </div>
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I will always remember when we moved on to studying poetry. If I hadn't realised I loved the subject before, I definitely knew I did now. W. H. Auden's 'Stop All The Clocks' is the first poem I remember being introduced to, and even to this day I get chills when I read it. I loved how words could be used to imply exterior meanings, as opposed to the literal denotations that are attached to them. How the stars could be used as a metaphor, how anthropomorphism existed heavily within works of literature. So, when the teacher set us the task of writing our own poems - I took it, and I ran with it; returning in on Monday morning armed with the longest poem I believe has ever existed. Heavily inspired by 'Stop All The Clocks' and a One Direction song ('Moments' - if you know, you know) my page became flooded with words I had no prior knowledge existed inside of me. I still remember the first two stanzas of that poem, yet seem to have lost the original copy (:(). </div>
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<i>Shut the door,</i></div>
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<i>Turn off the lights,</i></div>
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<i>My world is in darkness,</i></div>
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<i>My days are now nights</i></div>
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<i>Why does everyone seem to think</i></div>
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<i>They have suffered as much as me</i></div>
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<i>They have not felt this pain inside my heart</i></div>
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<i>I am in such agony</i></div>
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If I'm perfectly honest, this poem haunts me. I wrote about losing someone close to me before I had even realised that this would later become the case - like all works of literature, I was heavily foreshadowing. Yet, I wasn't foreshadowing the lives of the characters included in my poem, I was foreshadowing my own. </div>
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Like all teenagers, I began to keep a diary - something that I believe helped me through some extremely difficult points. I have this irrational fear of opening up to people, so instead of turning to a friend or family member, I began to turn to my pen and notebook. On nights where the concept of sleep was utterly non-existent, I would sit in bed and just write down every single thing that was on my mind. Whilst the paper couldn't give me a hug and tell me that everything was going to turn out okay, I got such a heavy sense of comfort from it. I was expressing myself, and everything that was going on, yet I was still keeping it extremely private - and this worked well. If I was to give one piece of advice to anyone who is currently struggling, I would tell them to keep a diary. Not only for you to turn to when you're lost, confused, angry, upset or hurt - but also for all the feelings in between. There are moments when I've stumbled across old diary entries, and felt an overwhelming sense of pride - I would write about times when I thought nothing was going to get better - and, I am living proof that it did. </div>
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Then, came the beginning of my blog. I started it in the Summer after GCSE's, where I would write a post about every place that I had visited - perhaps posting once every month or something along those lines. This mainly was created because it was at this point I realised I wanted to be a Journalist, and I knew that this would be a good thing to include in my personal statement. After the Summer, I neglected my blog for a bit - only posting whenever I had the time or energy to do so. Whilst it was something I truly enjoyed, it took a back seat for a while as I began to struggle massively at school and knew that all focus needed to be paid towards my studies. </div>
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However, then things started to go downhill - and I'm not going to go into details, but I'm sure many of you will be aware of what I am referring to here. I began to become extremely fearful of my own words - not wanting to put pen to paper, because I didn't want to come to terms with what would come out. I didn't want to know how I truly felt. Anything that I did write in this time was private, I don't think I'll ever be comfortable showcasing it to the world. Yet, I knew that this wouldn't be the end of my writing forever. I made a promise to someone I love with every part of me to never give up, and whilst it took a long while for me to stick to my promise, I knew I would get there in the end.</div>
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'Finding Happiness Again' was the post whereby I reintroduced my blog. (If you want to read it, you can find it <a href="http://www.gracyviolet.co.uk/2016/08/finding-happiness-again.html" target="_blank">here</a>). This post will always hold extreme sentimental value to me, as it was at this point where I felt that I was truly beginning to heal. For a couple of weeks, this post was kept on the notes section of my iPhone, yet I was finding myself re-reading it whenever I needed encouragement or a bit of motivation, and knew that I simply had to post it. So, after deliberating it for hours, I finally pressed the 'Publish' button, and I haven't looked back since. It was one of the most terrifying things I can say I've ever done, as I felt I was sharing a part of me that I was unsure would be accepted. </div>
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I'm pretty sure I mention this in most of my posts, but without the support and encouragement I have received, I know for a fact that I wouldn't be doing this. These posts would perhaps only exist in my notebook, or maybe not at all. People often ask me how I manage to write one every single week, and all I can ever reply to that is that I simply love it. This brings me such happiness, and whilst I often stumble across subject matters which are uncomfortable and difficult to talk about, it helps me more than anyone can ever truly understand. </div>
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The truth is, I don't know where any of this is going. All I know is that I love doing it, and can't ever imagine myself not. Writing has become a massive part in my life, and I never want to give it up. So, to finish this off I'm going to quote the iconic David Bowie, as I feel that it sums up everything I have just spoken about.</div>
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<i> "I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring."</i> </div>
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I hope you're having a fantastic day, and I will see you next week.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span> </div>
Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-76380395596546363182017-04-19T17:58:00.000+01:002017-04-19T17:58:05.310+01:00What It Means To Be A Woman<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjRMFG9zLxmJP_dS4ENTsq54Mrnv_pBC4cmsFiyW-xb4dv3hQU5m9SYHTOR5VYTD761OULpoezn2MUdt1ULmcHsJxfFNeYtUElQGM5jMqxqbWj14aL6OkI13nmv1mytDeILOIibexE10/s1600/IMG_8944.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjRMFG9zLxmJP_dS4ENTsq54Mrnv_pBC4cmsFiyW-xb4dv3hQU5m9SYHTOR5VYTD761OULpoezn2MUdt1ULmcHsJxfFNeYtUElQGM5jMqxqbWj14aL6OkI13nmv1mytDeILOIibexE10/s640/IMG_8944.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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She stands in the mirror, her eyes casting over her short skirt - wondering whether she can get away with it, or whether this will be perceived as an invitation. Her eyes cast over her make up - is this okay? Does this conform to the preconceived idea of femininity? Is she wearing too much, is she not wearing enough? It's a constant battle. She leaves the house, walking with her head down when she spots the men walking in the opposite direction, hoping and praying that for once she'll get a night off. For once she will be able to simply walk past and not be subjected to the cat calls, the wolf whistles, the lingering looks. But she is a young woman wearing a skirt, and somehow this is implied as her giving her permission - she should've expected this, right? Why else would she dress this way?<br />
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If anything was to happen, she knows immediately the response she would receive - "What were you wearing?" and "How much did you drink?" are questions which would be asked, and she would instantly be made to feel that the wrong-doing and pure delusion of a male was entirely her fault.<br />
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Because it's a well renowned fact that we are responsible for the actions of the opposite sex. We are told to cover our shoulders and to wear longer skirts because they may not be able to control themselves. We are given a strict dress code, and told to adhere to it in order to remain protected. In order to remain safe. Yet, I don't see the safety in that - do you?<br />
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It's been stated that if we shout "FIRE" instead of "RAPE", then the chance of someone coming to help us is significantly more likely. The idea of a house burning down is apparently more scary than someone's life being ripped apart, for them experiencing indescribable pain and living with the awful memories of what has happened to them. Or maybe it's the fear that stops us. It's easy to sit here and say how we would act in a certain situation, yet we have no definite way of knowing what we would actually do.<br />
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I guess what sparked this post was the show that everyone and their dog seem to be talking about - '13 Reasons Why'. Whilst this series has sparked an abundance of controversial opinions, it has definitely got people talking about the subject matter that it concerns. There are a number of scenes included in it which are uncomfortable and hard to watch - one in particular being the harrowing hot tub scene. Without going into too much detail, here we see the stereotypical 'jock' that is often present in American popular culture, taking advantage of Hannah - your, again stereotypical, 'girl next door' kind of character. Every time I shut my eyes I think about that scene, and it hurts me to think that this act is a version of reality that some people have faced. This feeling of helplessness is one that haunts me, and thinking that at this very moment something similar could be happening is tough and uncomfortable to think about.<br />
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The truth is women have come a long way - we can vote, there's no stigma attached to us going out to work, and many dominant figures in our society are indeed female - yet there's still this feeling of uncertainty and inequality that I can't help but pick up on. Obviously I'm going to be biased here, as I have no idea what it's like to be a man *waits for someone to make a 'witty' comment*, but I can't help but feel how women's looks tend to be the deciding factor on their worth as a person. At the end of the day, everything tends to come down to image and I am so utterly sick of it. Yes, it's nice to be told that you're 'pretty', but exhilarating to be labelled 'intelligent', 'quick-witted' or 'genuine'. <br />
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We sit and watch a film, and are introduced to archetypal representations of women - and we are expected to enjoy it. Yet every film we watch follows the same structure - the passive female longing for the dominant male - and I am bored of it. I am surprised when I watch a film that doesn't conform to this pattern and, if I'm perfectly honest, I don't think that's how it should be. I love being immersed in a text which follows the story of a strong female character, or at least includes one - and this is harder to find than you would necessarily think. Yet, isn't this damaging for the young girls growing up in this digital age? We are taught to settle, to be passive in our own storyline and to rely on external forces in order to get what we want. Every time I think about this, I grow a little fonder of J.K Rowling - for creating the character of Hermione Granger for young girls (and boys!) to admire and aspire to be like.<br />
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I love being a woman, and I'm more than proud to be one - but there are challenges that we face due to our gender that really shouldn't exist. However, that being said, I know how lucky I am to live in a society where things aren't as extreme. There are hideous and soul-crushing stories that are shared on the news, or on social media, and it's at times like this when I realise just how bitter and twisted our world is. The same way that I believe race and sexuality shouldn't be used to dictate a person's worth and rights, gender shouldn't either. When you think about it, it really is entirely absurd to think that our genitals determine our superiority - so why is that the case in so many countries across the globe?<br />
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Sorry for this little rant, it's probably jumbled, messy and may not make sense in some areas, but I've just been thinking about it all for a little while now. I hope it's made you think, or even ask your own questions - because I guess that's what we ultimately need; a discussion.<br />
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So, I guess I'll see you next week!<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-88910969933311616702017-04-13T18:27:00.002+01:002017-04-13T18:27:14.169+01:00Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been thinking so much about the concept of 'time' recently - and how it can be both our best friend, yet also our worst enemy. At the moment, all I'm thinking about is the time that I have left of seeing my friends all day, every day and of coming home and seeing my family in the evening. The time left I have to improve my grades (which, lets be honest, I need an eternity for that), to lie in the bed I've lay in most nights of my entire existence and to remain comfortable in my every day surroundings. Because, in just a few months time, that is all going to change - and to say I'm scared would be an understatement (I.AM.TERRIFIED).<br />
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Something that has always bothered me is the fear of the unknown - to delve into something that I am unsure of, because I am used to being so certain of everything I do. I wish I could say that I'm one of those people who take risks, who find solitude in the infinite masses of uncertainty, but I am truly not. I crave adventure, yet I am also fearful of it - because everything always seems so much better in my head than it usually pans out. I have so many dreams, so many ambitions, so many things that I want to do - yet I feel like time is standing in my way, snatching all of these away from me.<br />
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It's weird isn't it, how time can pass by either so quickly or so slowly. There's certain moments when you feel the time passing by - e.g. sat at a desk for what seems like forever, writing notes until your hands ache and your brain has reached it's maximum feed of information for the day. Yet, then there are times when time doesn't seem to exist at all. Times when you don't feel the minutes fly by, times when you look at the clock and wonder if you are reading it correctly - times when you are just existing in that moment without thinking about anything else at all.<br />
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I hate going to sleep, mainly for the sheer thought that I don't understand the concept at all. It's weird, isn't it? How for 8 hours or so you're just not existing at all, your mind being occupied by strange scenarios which are exhibited in a manner which makes you truly believe that this is reality. That sigh of relief you do when you realise that everything that happened in that weird state of illusion is merely that, and you can proceed with the rest of your day whilst the memories of your dream flutter away. I have the strangest dreams, which often feel more real than everyday life. My dreams take me to places I am afraid for my mind to wander to, and there have been countless times when I've woken up in a state of shock and panic. Times when I've wondered how it can all just feel <i>so real. </i><br />
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Maybe in a parallel universe somewhere, we are existing elsewhere. 'Deja Vu' is a concept which completely messes with my mind, and if I think about it for too long I start questioning pretty much everything I have ever deemed as reality. How you can be in a completely new situation or setting, yet feel as though you've already experienced all of this before. However, this can sometimes act as a comfort blanket too - you are somehow enraptured in the notion that things are going to turn out okay, because you have already been through this before and<i> here you are</i>.<br />
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'Time is the greatest healer' is a phrase I used to hear repeatedly, and for so long I would pass it off as something people would say in order to make me feel better. Yet, over the past year and a bit I've learnt that this is the ultimate truth. I spent what felt like an eternity in the most intense feeling of pain I have ever felt in my entire life, and I believed that this is how I would feel for the rest of my life. I thought that every day I would wake up with the same dull ache inside my heart, and whilst I'm not going to sit here and pretend like that is completely non-existent - the pain has massively subsided. Sometimes all we need is a little time.<br />
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I'm thinking back to times in my life when I've felt truly, completely and utterly happy - and, if I'm perfectly honest, that is right now. The other day I got a text from a lovely friend of mine asking how I was doing, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I replied with 'The best I've ever felt in a long time, I'm in such a good place right now' - and I truly meant that. Whilst people, like myself, were expecting this previous weekend to be difficult, sad, lonely and heart-wrenching, I can honestly say it was anything but that. Whilst there are still moments that take my breath away, or where I am overwhelmed by the sensation of grief, there are also moments where I am laughing until I have tears streaming down my face and where I feel that it isn't possible to be happier than I am in that moment.<br />
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Time is a funny thing. It's confusing and sometimes bitter, yet it's also magical. I guess in this little ramble I'm trying to get the message across that whilst there are definitely moments when it seems 'time' is standing in the way of everything we dream of achieving, sometimes it really is our greatest friend. I guess we should cherish it, rather than attempting to battle it.<br />
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I think this is one of the shortest blog posts I have ever written, and I'm truly sorry about that! Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed and I shall see you next week. (Most definitely on Wednesday this time!)<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-74336727091578449252017-04-06T20:18:00.003+01:002017-04-06T20:18:44.706+01:008 things that I have learnt in my (nearly) 18 years of existence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: small;">So, for everyone who doesn't know - I turn 18 tomorrow (!!!!). Whilst I would be lying if I said I wasn't utterly terrified by the fact that I will be an ADULT, I am also sort of (kind of, VERY) excited. Birthday's aren't particularly my favourite thing in the world to celebrate, as with any other holiday/celebration etc etc, yet this one is different. Looking back at last year, my birthday was something that I just wanted to ignore - for the day to pass by quickly and minimal effort be made. Yet this year, this year it's all different. I'm not going to lie and pretend that there's not an extreme sense of sadness present in this day, but there's also such a huge level of giddiness and joy too (I CAN FINALLY BUY ALCOHOL!!!) So, I thought to mark the occasion I would share with you '</span><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: medium;">8 things that I have learnt in my (nearly) 18 years of existence'.</b></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><u><b>1) Surround yourself with positive people</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I honestly do not think I can stress this one enough. The people you surround yourself with are the people who are going to have the biggest impact on many aspects of your life - and toxic people will have more of an affect that you originally think. If you constantly have someone who is pushing all their, this is so cringey but bear with, 'negative energy' onto you, then it will 1500349491049% change you into a predominantly negative person too. However that’s not to say that you can’t be there for your friends - there’s a difference between <b>helping</b> someone deal with their problems and someone pushing their problems onto you. Of course, everyone has their bad days and we wouldn’t be human if they didn’t exist, but sometimes there is a point when you have to walk off and distance yourself, sometimes only for a little while. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><b><u>2) Do what makes you happy, regardless of what other people think</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Again, this is one that I feel very strongly about. In this day and age, everyone believes that they need to have an opinion on just about e v e r y t h i n g - and if they can’t find something to talk about, then they will talk about you. If you’re doing something different and out of the ordinary, then there will most likely be people who feel the need to discuss it - but to that I say; LET THEM! Give them something to talk about, because if your name is in their mouth then it means you’ve made an impact, and most of the time they will be admiring you for it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><u><b>3) Enjoy your own company, rather than be afraid of it</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">This is something that has taken a while to combat. For a very very very long time, I never used to like doing anything by myself. I would always much prefer to be surrounded by a group of people, than be left alone - and when I was alone I would find it quite distressing. In all honesty, and this is deep and philosophical, but I didn’t know who I was - and being left alone made me feel like I was in the company of a stranger. That all truly does seem like an eternity ago now - as, at this current moment in time, I find great comfort in being by myself - admittedly, I do make myself laugh more than anyone else I know (sorry Georgina! you’re a close second xx) and my favourite time of day is when I am just sat in my room by myself doing whatever the hell I want to do. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><u><b>4) Life is too short to be unhappy</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I feel like this one is something that is so much easier said than done. I know how easy it is to get into a mindset where you feel like you will never be happy again, and once you reach that point it’s honestly is difficult to come out from that place. Sometimes it does seem like the world is against you, and doing everything in it’s power to test you - but all you can do is fight back. I make sure that I laugh every single day, regardless of how impossible that seems at that particular moment in time. I also make sure that I do at least one thing a day that I know will make me happy - even if that’s just sending a funny Snapchat or watching a video (ahem, videos) of Benedict Cumberbatch. Because, at the end of the day, even though it seems like school or getting good grades is the most important thing in the entire world - it truly isn’t. No one’s going to remember you for getting amazing grades, or for being in the top set - they’re going to remember you for being the person you are. (yikes, that was motivational!)</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><b><u>5) Do things that scare you</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Whilst I used to fear change or new beginnings, I am now infatuated with them. I love the adrenaline rush you get from gathering enough courage to do something impulsive and unlike anything you have ever done before. The greatest things truly do come from taking risks, and however cringey or cliche that sounds - it’s the truth. I live by the philosophy that ‘In the end, we always regret the chances we didn’t take’ and have accepted that we can only change once we start to begin to take chances. However, with this comes to acceptance of failure. Sometimes you do things, or you pursue something and it doesn’t work - and that is okay! Not everything is always going to work out, and whilst it may seem like the end of the world at the time - by the same time next year it is guaranteed that you will have forgotten about it. After all, we first have to fail in order to succeed. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><b><u>6) Realise your capability</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s so incredibly easy to dumb yourself down, and not believe in your abilities - trust me, I know. Pretty much every single one of my school reports state that I need to believe in my own potential, yet regardless of how many times I have been told that - it doesn't make a difference! However, I am a lot better than I used to be ; I guess that’s all a part of growing up. Whilst I have long accepted that I won’t always be the best - I will never be the top of the class, or the girl who gets full marks - it no longer matters to me as much as it used to. Academic ability isn’t the be all and end all, and I think it’s massively important to realise that. This all stems to comparing yourself to others, and whilst it seems virtually impossible not to do that, you just have to realise that you’re being unfair to yourself. Compare yourself to YOU - are you reaching your full potential or doing the task at hand to the best of your ability? If the answers are yes, then that is truly all that matters. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><b><u>7) Don’t change yourself to suit others</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">In a world that often seems so fake and commercialised, it is becoming increasingly harder to stay true to yourself. It seems as if everyone’s playing this giant game of ‘lets pretend’ and there’s becoming a distortion of what’s real and what’s not - thus leading to false expectations. All I can say to this is that, at the end of the day, all you can be is yourself - regardless of whether that seems like enough or not - I promise you it is. At the end of the day, you're own opinion of yourself surpasses everyone else's - and if you're happy with who you are, then that is all that matters!</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><u><b>8) Live each day like it’s your last</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">HOW CLICHE?! BUT HOW TRUE!? The truth is, nothing is certain in this world - and whilst I’ve spent months being so afraid of that, it’s not going to change anything. Throughout all the hard times, and believe me - there’s more than you could ever imagine - I have battled through it with the mindset that I can either spend the rest of my life being consumed by the masses of grief and heartbreak, or I can instead focus on everything that I still have - rather than what I have lost. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like there’s not days that I can’t seem to get out of bed, or where I can’t even string together a sentence without choking up - but it is always in these moments when I realise how lucky I am to have the people in my life that I do. So, to that I say - surround yourself with the best people, let yourself be immersed in happiness and do something every single day which you know will have a positive outcome. It’s easy to be wary of the future, to feel like you need to have a plan - but the best thing I ever did was learnt to take each day as it comes, focusing instead on each separate piece of the puzzle as opposed to the big picture at the end. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Thank you so much for reading!</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Grace x</span></div>
Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-24992765684929790782017-03-29T18:08:00.000+01:002017-03-29T18:08:27.547+01:00My Story<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiq8We-XKcmAw59HzmGbr4-tIpIxmngEMrYTllOxl1RfNgezgLPgJZzSHlXNG40en9cShuZV3uktIi8V07lBNEP9R9edmbo7lkVnuXQMxSS7LD_3fokOoaSJca9aJtXG8YhG-Wkl657k/s1600/DSC00388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiq8We-XKcmAw59HzmGbr4-tIpIxmngEMrYTllOxl1RfNgezgLPgJZzSHlXNG40en9cShuZV3uktIi8V07lBNEP9R9edmbo7lkVnuXQMxSS7LD_3fokOoaSJca9aJtXG8YhG-Wkl657k/s640/DSC00388.jpg" width="640" /></a>I wrote this post a while ago, yet I never gathered the courage to publish it. It's something that is so personal, yet I feel that it's a story that needs to be shared. The truth is, I've met a few new people recently, and there's always this growing sense of anxiousness of 'when will they start asking questions about my family?' and 'how am I supposed to tell them?'. Regardless of how it may seem on here, this is something that I really don't like talking about - after every post regarding this subject matter, I have to force myself to press the 'publish' button. The sheer thought that talking about it may help people always drives me to do it, no matter how against it I am.<br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Let’s start from the beginning then, shall we? I was born on the 7th April 1999, at whatever time - does that really matter? I was a tiny little thing, 3lbs 11oz, and was the last one to be delivered. Notice the ‘last one’ bit? See that’s the thing, this wasn’t just my day to shine; I shared it with my brother and sister. I am one of three, with one minute between one baby and the next. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment that I realised being a triplet wasn’t a very ordinary thing, yet I obviously didn’t know any different. It makes me laugh, because one of the most vivid memories of my child is me watching a documentary of a set of quadruplets, and sitting on the seesaw in the garden thinking 'Aw, I’m not special anymore’. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I always knew I was a little different, yet for most of my adolescence I tried my very best to blend in with the crowd - which is considerably difficult when you have hair the colour of a tangerine. My family were a little quirky - we did things that not many other families did like bake bread, call poppadoms ‘pompadoms’ and instead of jetting abroad for 2 weeks in the summer, we would be just as happy nipping up to Wales with a 4 man tent, which we later upgraded to a trailer tent - how posh!</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">However, 2014 is the year that everything changed. After attending a Ben Howard concert in October, my brother had his first seizure. At first we blamed it on the vodka that he had sipped moments before he went into the O2 apollo, yet I began to be faced with what would later become daily emotions of mine - dread and fear. Luke began to undergo a series of scans and tests at the hospital, and we later discovered that he had a growth on his brain.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">He went for his operation 2 days after we were told the news and, if I shut my eyes, I can still remember exactly how I felt on that very day. I still remember trying to do up his hospital gown before he went into theatre, yet my shaking hand was fumbling too much for me to do it. I still remember saying ‘goodbye’ and wondering if that was going to be my last one. I still remember sitting on the hospital chair and crying for what felt like years. I still remember nearly fainting when they told us the operation had gone as planned, and that Luke was just sleeping off the anaesthetic. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Everything had gone smoothly, and I truly believed that this was the end of this heart wrenching scare. I was proved wrong when the dreaded C word was attached to my darling brother, and the first time I set foot in The Christie hospital to watch him undergo radiotherapy. I will never forget the day that everyone found out, how I walked into a classroom full of people who had just been told the news about something which seemed so personal. I remember thinking, ‘It’s real now, everybody knows’ and I knew that I could no longer live in my bubble where I blocked off reality. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Time passed, and it seemed as if the treatment was going well. We had the occasional scare - Luke underwent another operation, and we constantly received bad news, good news, bad news, bad news, good news and then bad news again. The last set of bad news was the worst news you could ever ever EVER imagine. The cancer was no longer just in Luke’s brain, it had reached his spine too. It had spread everywhere, and there wasn’t a chance that it was going to be cured. My darling brother, who I had spent every single day of my life with, was now a ticking time bomb - and we had no idea of how much longer he had left. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I’m still completely uncertain as to how I got through this stage, but I guess it’s true what they say - your strength always shines throughout the hardest of situations. I’m sure you’ll have guessed how this story ends - Luke was taken away from us on 2nd March 2016, and we have just passed the q year anniversary. The thing is, nothing can ever prepare you for losing a loved one - no matter how many self help books you read, how many counselling sessions you undergo or how many times you tell yourself ‘I will get through this’. When you lose someone you love that much, you lose part of yourself too - a part that you will never get back. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">It’s the afterwards which is the hardest part. It’s the stares of people as you walk into school the first time after the funeral, who are so unsure as to what to say - because what can you say? No words, no amounts of ‘I’m so sorry’ can fix anything - and there’s the constant feeling of anger that was unleashed from every sad smile I got in the corridors. Something I struggled with the most was the feeling of guilt - which I still feel today. It’s the constant questioning of ‘why him, why wasn’t it me?’ which I find myself asking at the darkest of times. My brother was, and still is, loved by everybody, and I honestly do mean <b><i>everybody. </i></b>He had this infectious smile which you couldn’t help but replicate whenever he was around, and he could have you laughing even at times where you couldn’t ever imagine smiling again. And now, when we need that more than ever, he’s not here. When you lose someone, you begin to start idealising how certain situations would be if they were still here. You begin to think that if they were here, they’d be able to fix everything for you - even though you know deep in your heart that that just isn't the case.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The truth is, there’s an art to losing yourself, and it’s so easy to pretend like you’re completely fine - even at times when you’re anything but that. I’m flawed in the sense that I put so much pressure on myself to be happy, mainly because I think that it helps people around me. Even when I get upset and I desperately need comfort and consolation, I hide away from everyone because I’m so scared of them seeing me this way. I’m terrified to let people in, because then they might see me as broken, and I know it’ll scare them away. Because, at the end of the day, nobody wants a misery guts. Everybody loves having happy people surrounding them, even when we all know that it’s impossible to be happy all of the time. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">If we hide away when we’re sad, then it’s like it never happened. Instead of crying, screaming and doing the most stupid things when I’m sad, I have learnt to turn to writing. It truly is such a cathartic sensation putting the pen to paper and releasing emotions that have built up over an infinite amount of time. Writing allows me to figure out how I’m truly feeling, and I am sometimes left in shock over the words which litter the page - I had no idea previously that I felt this way. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">When people praise me for my writing, it truly means the world to me. The words I write are words which come directly from my heart, and are so personal and dear to me. I struggle so much with vocally expressing how I am feeling, and my writing gives me a platform to be able to do that. Whether I’m happy, sad, angry or tired - the first thing I want to do is write. The moment that my pen touches the paper, or my fingers reach the keys, I know that I am about to be taken on a self induced journey - and it offers me a thrill that other people may find in rollercoasters, cliff diving or bungee jumping. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">And that’s it, that’s my story. Well, a bit of it anyway. The worst thing imaginable happened, and in the aftermath I’m learning to heal through the words that I write. I have experienced things at such a young age, that people will perhaps never experience in their lifetime - and to them, I hope they don’t take it for granted. I would do anything in my power to turn back time, but unfortunately the concept of a time machine only exists in the fictional side of popular culture. All I can do now is live my life, figure out who I am and what I want, and hope that one day everything turns out okay. I have goals and ambitions that I know I can so easily achieve once I set my mind to them, and whilst my life hasn’t turned out so great so far, I’m excited to see what the future brings.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">See you next week,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-32670880777659476552017-03-22T17:59:00.000+00:002017-03-22T17:59:57.938+00:00STORYTIMEI've been feeling so uninspired recently. With my blog posts, I can usually just log onto my laptop and BAM! about a zillion words come flooding out. But right now my thoughts are scattered, and I am struggling to write about anything at all. I've currently got 5 different tabs up, with random thoughts occupying each one. HOWEVER, I can't have a Wednesday night without a blog post so I thought that I may as well just share with you a few of my favourite stories that have happened in my life, that will (hopefully!) make you laugh.<br />
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I'm one of those people who always has a story to tell. If you know me well, then you have certainly heard this one before...<br />
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<u><b>"MAD MILL".</b></u><br />
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This one honestly physically repulses me every time I think about it, but I'm going to suck it up and just write about it. So, my family and I have been to Holland a couple of times now and we used to stay on this site which had a theme park and water park attached. Whilst it was fantastic, I know deep down that I could never go back there again - which is entirely due to the story I am about to tell you.<br />
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There was this ride there called the Mad Mill, which was basically a giant circle ride that would spin around and swing you up really high. (I'm so awful at explaining things so I'll insert a video of it <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEGQGzSFeIQ" target="_blank">here</a>). We had been on it before, and I absolutely LOVED it! It would always make you feel really dizzy afterwards, but the good kind of dizzy which would make you laugh uncontrollably (or, maybe that was just me).<br />
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So, we'd just got belted up and then this couple walked on - the girl sat next to me and the boy next to her. The ride is going at full speed, and we're very high up when all of a sudden I hear the horrific sound of someone emptying their stomach. I look to my right and the boy is being sick - not only all over himself, but over his poor girlfriend too. Because the ride was spinning round, his vomit was going EVERYWHERE and I mean E V E R Y W H E R E. I shut my eyes and tried to block it out, when I suddenly feel something land on my leg. Trying to stay calm, I open my eyes to investigate.<br />
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There was a speck on his regurgitated food on my leg.<br />
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Now, I most definitely have mentioned before in one of my blog posts my extreme phobia of sick. So, as you can imagine, I was FREAKING OUT. The guy controlling the ride had, for some reason, failed to realise what was going on, and all I could think about was tHE FACT THAT THERE WAS SOMEONE ELSE'S SICK ON MY LEG.<br />
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Desperate times call for desperate measures, am I right? I tried to turn my back on him, to scream to my 'lovely and supportive' sister Alice that 'SOMEONE HAS JUST THROWN UP ON MY LEG" whilst practically breaking my back in the process, and she just looks at me, laughs and says 'What do you want me to do about it?'.<br />
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The ride finally stopped and I shot out my seat, running faster than I have ever ran in my life - high jumping over clumps of vomit in the process. I hopped down the stairs, my sick splattered leg high up in the ground - as far away from me as I could physically manage - getting to the nearest food stall so I could grab a napkin and finally feel clean again.<br />
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And that, my friends, is why you DON'T EAT BEFORE YOU GO ON A SPINNING RIDE. Before you proceed in doing that, please think about the poor sods (like myself) who will be eternally scarred due to your pathetic actions.<br />
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<b><u>THE CINEMA INCIDENT</u></b><br />
This, like the Mad Mill story, happened a couple of years ago - I'd like to think I've got a bit less embarrassing since then, but it's more the case of the embarrassing things that have happened aren't really appropriate to put on here (oops!). So, I was 14 years old - it was the Summer holidays and myself, Alice and Georgina had gone to the cinema to watch Anchorman (I'm pretty sure it was that anyway).<br />
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Anchorman is a 15, yet we were cocky as hell and thought that we looked mature enough to get away with it. So, we queued up to get the tickets and everything was running smoothly - my ego was rapidly growing and I was getting ready to hand over the money when the woman serving us goes, "Can I just double check, how old are you all?".<br />
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Now, I am an absolute rubbish liar - which tends to be a good thing, except for when I'm faced with situations like this one. Trying to do my best Meryl Streep impression, I confidently said "Oh, we're all 15" - which clearly wasn't as convincing as I originally believed it was. To this, the lady then replied "When's your birthday?".<br />
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I am absolutely awful at Maths and logical thinking, which I'm sure you are all aware of. So, instead of doing the normal thing and just saying my actual birthday yet changing the year I, admittedly the biggest idiot of all time, went "It's my birthday today actually!".<br />
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I'm not going to lie to you, I thought I'd nailed it.<br />
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That was until she said the dreaded words, the utterance that completely threw me off guard - "What date is it today then?". Okay, I struggle with knowing what date it is on a daily basis - but expecting me to know it during THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS? That's just cruel.<br />
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I'm not proud to admit this, but I panicked. I stumbled with my words, and the lady at the desk saw right through my lies. Instead of waiting for me to respond, she shot me back down with the heavily sarcastic interrogative "You don't even know the date of your own birthday?".<br />
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Anyone in this situation would've perhaps cracked, yet I wore my pride like a badge, and remained there with my head held high. That was until she suggested the 'other films' we could watch instead - all of which were PG animation films. Funnily enough, watching Tinkerbell & Friends, didn't particularly take my fancy - and we left the cinema in a state of confusion, embarrassment and dismay.<br />
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<b><u>CRAWLING ACROSS THE TABLE</u></b><br />
This is my family's favourite story of all time - at any gathering of sorts, this one seems to be brought up every. single. time.<br />
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I was in year 1, and I truly thought I owned the place (there seems to be a theme here, doesn't there?!). I was never really one to turn down a good dare, and when my friend challenged me to crawl across one of the big tables in our classroom, I simply couldn't say no.<br />
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The classroom was dark, and I assumed it was empty. All was fine and dandy, I was halfway across the table when something in the corner of the room caught my eye - my teacher. She was standing in the dark eating her sandwich, and if I wasn't so shocked I would've been a bit creeped out. (A modern day Dracula?)<br />
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I froze. Mid crawl. With my mouth wide open, and my eyes wide in shock. It seemed like we both spent an eternity staring at each other, seeing who was going to be the first person to speak. So, I did what I do best - ran away. I jumped off that table as though I was Jessica Ennis competing in the Olympics and ran as if my life depended on it.<br />
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I remember thinking I'd got away with it, and trying my best to be the first one out of the door when the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. However, my mother is a chatterbox, and in primary school we would usually spend an extra hour in the playground whilst she conversed with the other mums. My teacher followed me out, and asked if she could speak to my mum - the dreaded moment was about to occur. I was internally saying my prayers, hoping that whatever the consequences for my actions may be - I would make it out okay.<br />
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My mum still remembers the conversation with my teacher, yet I have tried my best to erase it from my memory. She recalls being told of what I'd done, and desperately biting her cheeks in order not to laugh in the teacher's face - who clearly took the matter very seriously.<br />
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I remember being in the car on the way home, and my entire family taking the mick out of me for what I'd done - to which my 6 year old self sulkily replied "I don't wan't to talk about it". (It'd been a long and stressful day, okay!).<br />
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Right, well I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one day! I hope you enjoyed this blog post, I had such a laugh to myself whilst writing it.<br />
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See you next week!<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love, </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-57999653590555815072017-03-15T18:01:00.000+00:002017-03-15T18:01:01.580+00:00The Perspective of Holly Golightly<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw_sWppmeOjpzO-51Mar0oXxkVoWefjJccKLe5Hi35ck2chkCJKNuRNaEY-WDOeOvVGZMn9JOqYAGlo7DkiNlVQnw4DzPLJo-d0bFKcthmF0FA58DVTmMPOEORV57rYvkCgSffFQKqjo/s1600/breakfast_at_tiffanys_3+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw_sWppmeOjpzO-51Mar0oXxkVoWefjJccKLe5Hi35ck2chkCJKNuRNaEY-WDOeOvVGZMn9JOqYAGlo7DkiNlVQnw4DzPLJo-d0bFKcthmF0FA58DVTmMPOEORV57rYvkCgSffFQKqjo/s640/breakfast_at_tiffanys_3+%25281%2529.png" width="640" /></a><br />
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I remember watching 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' for the first time with my mum, and becoming completely and utterly infatuated with the character of Holly Golightly. She embodied everything I wanted to be - confident, sophisticated and classy - and I fell in love with the film, knowing from the moment I finished watching it that it be regarded as 'One of my favourite films of all time' (with The Great Gatsby, The Danish Girl and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button being the other films I place in that category). I can't quite put my finger on what it was that drew me to the film, but I just knew that there was something special about it - the iconography, the costumes, the storyline - it was just so unlike any film that I had ever watched before.<br />
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Then, last summer, I finally found the time to read the book which, as cliché as it sounds, was considerably better than the film. Capote writes in a way which I found very similar to one of my all time favourite authors - F Scott Fitzgerald - and I found myself being more able to understand the character of Miss Holiday Golightly, and feeling more empathetic towards her than I had originally felt whilst watching the film.<br />
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Last year, on my 17th birthday, I opened my birthday card from my mum and dad - to find tickets to watch 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' at the Lowry Theatre! I was overjoyed, and that day will forever be regarded as one of my favourites. Pixie Lott conveyed the highly iconic character perfectly, yet for me - I will always regard Audrey Hepburn as the ultimate version of Holly Golightly.<br />
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As some of you may be aware, I study English Literature as one of my A - Levels, and for one of the pieces of our coursework we got to choose a novel of our choice, and either write an essay about it, or a recreative piece. The recreative piece seemed the most appealing to me, I love creative writing - and this really did give me the freedom and the excuse to write an original piece of work. Because I tend to write about a hundred words where only ten are necessary, I was struggling a bit in terms of the word count - and in the end had to chop down most of my work.<br />
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So, I thought why not put the original version on here? I'm not 100% sure if anyone will be interested in reading this, but I thought it was something a little bit different to what I usually post. (Spice things up a bit, you know). Right, this load of babble is about to come to an end ... so here you go lovelies!<br />
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{This is going to be an extremely lengthy blog post, just to pre-warn you!}<br />
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<b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: medium;"><u>Entry number 1 </u></b></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm here! I've finally made it. Wandering the quiet streets at 5am and looking into the windows of Tiffany's is everything I have dreamed of and more … yet why do I still feel so cripplingly unhappy? I still don't feel like I'm at home here. All these boxes are littering my flat, yet I find myself unable to empty them, fearing that then I am actually committing to something – and the thought of that scares me like no other. Perhaps all I need is some company. I miss Doc and the children, but most of all I miss my darling Fred. I'm just lonely, that must be why I'm feeling this way. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 2</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I've surrounded myself with company for the past few nights, yet it doesn't seem to have much of an effect on me. I guess it just makes me feel less numb for a while, as if the gentle caresses of a man can warm my otherwise ice cold heart. Having a man in my life isn't the be all and end all – I'm completely aware of that. I just can't remember a time in my life when I've felt this alone before. Female friends aren't something I'm used to, for some reason women don't like me very much. Besides, the men in my life help me afford my new life here. A little powder room money sees me through from week to week. However, remind me to never see Mr Arbuck again – twenty cents is definitely not satisfactory for a woman of my calibre! </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 3</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Cat is my new companion. The poor slob without a name, oh how I adore him! I just don't feel like I have the right to give him one, seeing as we don't belong to each other. I'll name him eventually, once find a place where I belong, and where we can fully exist together. Each day I'm growing more and more certain that it's not here. Singing and playing the guitar are things that focus my mind away from my broken heart. I wrote down lyrics the other day which utterly sum up my current situation - </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't wanna sleep, </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Just wanna go a-travellin' through pictures of the sky </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 4</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I gave poor Paul, who I am now referring to as Fred, - for he reminds me of him greatly – an awful fright last night. Another one of my, how shall I put it, 'companions', turned frightening after consuming enough alcohol to wash an elephant, so I climbed up the icy fire escape and saw Fred lying there looking all cosy. It turns out he's a writer, and I'm going to help him, for he looks like me brother so. My new little project. Perhaps this will help me seek solace. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 5</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Every Thursday I catch the 8:45 and go and see Sally Tomato in prison. This has been going on for seven months, and I get paid a hundred a week every time I visit this dear old man, who I utterly adore. To confirm to Mr O'Shaughnessy that I have been, I leave messages on his answering service telling him the weather report that Sally has mentioned to me. Don't get me wrong, I am not the highly vulnerable and pathetic airhead that they assume I am. I am completely certain that "there's a hurricane in Cuba" and "it’s snowing in Palermo" is code for some dodgy business the two have got going on. I still go and see Sally Tomato because I enjoy my visits, especially when he tells me that he prays for me. It's nice to know that at least someone is watching out for me. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 6</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Tonight I had a party at my place, in another unsuccessful attempt to make it feel more like home. It was almost pathetic the way the men swarmed around me like a pack of bees. However, there was only one man who I had my eye on – Mr Rusty Trawler, a millionaire since the age of 5. Don't get me wrong, I know that this is the easy way out – to marry rich – yet I'm so determined to better myself, and in this world only money will help you do that. Rusty is a good guy, I'm almost certain about that. He has power, status, and wealth – everything that I have always dreamed of having, yet seem unable to. However, there's a dark side to him – a side which I am determined I can change. There's rumours circling about the fact that he is a Nazi sympathiser, and I truly don't want to be associated with that side of him – I'm a bit bone idle at times, but I have morals and values that I will never change purely for the sake of a man. If Rusty Trawler adores me as much as he says he does, the dark side of him will have to leave … otherwise I will. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">There's something else on my mind. I'm angry at Fred. I know I complain about Mag but she's got a good heart underneath all her … issues. Yes, I neglected her in her drunken state, but there's only so many times I can hold her hair back whilst she empties her stomach, a literal purge of the bitter emotions that the liquor causes her to possess. Fred should've looked after her. I begged him to. I thought he was one of the good ones. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Don’t get me wrong, women are most definitely not objects which need to be looked after by men. But once Mag delves into the spirits, she becomes incapable of just about anything. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I've asked her to move in with me. I needed some company, and it's nice to have another female around. There's been a massive influx in women campaigning for liberation and equal rights, Mag and I are going to join a club which is only 5 minutes away from our flat. We both dream of a future which sees strong women standing up for what they believe in, and are determined to get the ball rolling so our future daughters can experience an equal society. We’re going to change the world, Mag and I. Watch this space. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 7 </u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh my darling Fred, I am so proud of him. He's just told me the incredible news that his first short story has been published! I know that I am in no position to comment, but I can't help but feel that he should be more commercially ambitious with his writing, but nonetheless this calls for a celebration. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I really would hate to think that I'm sounding bitter here, but I can't help but think how easy it is for men to succeed in this world. His stories are beautiful, but if I were to write something of the same standard, or better, then the publisher wouldn't even consider running it. Yes, my story may be perfectly written and fantastically interesting, yet it's the fact that I'm a female which holds me back, as usual. I'm fed up of it. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">As a women, I am limited to being in the movies – merely speaking the beautiful words that people like Fred write. Whilst this is a great honour too, I know that I am not in this industry for my superb tale<span style="font-family: inherit;">nt</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> o</span>r powerful voice. No, I am in the movies, and I hope I'm not sounding too vain here, because people like to look at me. I am seen as an object, a pretty thing for your eyes to focus on for a couple of hours, instead of as a voice. People aren't listening, they're just looking. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 8</u></b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, so much has happened and I've had a hard time dealing with it all. I'm sick of the men in my life screwing me over. I've known it for a while now, that I need to be by myself – but how would society accept that? Women who are alone by choice get isolated from society, and vicious rumours are spread about them – some even get accused of witchcraft, for goodness sake! </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm alone again. I belong to nobody, yet belong to everyone, and the thought of that terrifies me. I'm sick of being in a cage, there for everyone to look at and admire, yet never truly want. I admit, I find it hard to let people in, which is why I make up all these tales about a life that is so far from my own, I've begun to even forget the truth. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Entry number 9 </u></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">This little family I had created for myself crumbled to a pile of dust when Mag suspected the affair between Jose and I. He's the only person who I feel understand me, and I find myself giving him pieces of myself that no one else has ever received. Mag and I talked of improving the world we live in, yet we never considered changing ourselves. We don't need men in our lives in order to feel fulfilled, and the sooner we realise that, the better.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I hope you enjoyed this post, and I'm sorry for how long it was! If you've made it to the end, then thank you so much. :) </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">See you next week, </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Love, </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: purple; font-size: small;">Grace x</span></span></div>
Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-78246363746390537052017-03-08T18:31:00.000+00:002017-03-08T18:31:04.329+00:00International Women's DayIf I'm completely honest, I was struggling to think of a topic to write about for this week's blog post. Usually, I can just sit down with my laptop and start typing about the first thing that comes to mind, but I've been feeling pretty uninspired recently. At the moment, my life generally consists of school all day, coming home and doing more work and then going to bed (wow, how exciting!). Although I am prone to getting fed up when my routine begins to revolve around an endless stream of revision, I am extremely motivated in the sense that I only have a few short months left of school and then FREEDOM! (I am still massively unsure about the whole 'university thing'). To also inspire and motivate me to do work, I simply cast my mind to focus on the fact that I am extremely lucky to be able to have the opportunity of education that I do, and I really shouldn't take it for granted. There are people, especially girls, around the world who don't get to receive an education - purely due to their gender, and that honestly baffles me.<br />
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Figures such as the utterly fabulous Malala Yousafzai have brought light upon this issue, and organisations like 'HeForShe' and the 'GlobalGiving Girl Fund' are campaigning in order to create an equal future, where both genders receive equal chances and opportunities, without acts of discrimination standing in their way. Today, March 8th, marks International Women's Day - a day where women from all over the globe are being celebrated for their conscious efforts to creating an entirely equal society, with <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">#BeBoldForChange being this years theme<span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">However, instead of writing a post where I celebrate the dominant female figures in society, I wanted to offer a more personal approach. I could easily write about Rosa Parks, Emmeline Pankhurst or Emma Watson, but I want to write about the impactful and insanely strong women in my life - all of which have shaped me into the person I am today. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>My Mum</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, starting with the most obvious one - my mum. I think we so easily take our parents for granted, and it sometimes gets in the way of us appreciating how much they actually do for us. I always have, and always will, admired my mum - when things get tough, and life is bringing you down, sometimes just having a cup of tea and a cry with your mum can solve everything. Whether you're sad, happy, poorly or angry, your mum is always the first person you want to turn to. Something extraordinary about my mother is the fact that she carried three babies in her stomach all at once. Even just the thought of that makes me want to throw up, but my mum just took it completely in her stride. She is constantly interrogated by people who only have to deal with one baby, with the most asked question being 'How did you manage?' - to that, she tends to answer 'I just had to be organised'. And that, Mother, you certainly are. There are some people who are just born to plan and arrange things, and my mum is definitely one of them. She has a reputation of having the Christmas cards sent out by December 1st, and she buys people's birthday cards and presents at least 2 months in advance. Despite being insanely organised and tidy, she is also one of the silliest people I know. If people think I'm a little bit (a lot) crazy and weird, then you have my mum to thank for that. Prone to pulling silly faces and uttering silly jokes, she still manages to look good whilst doing it (I have yet to master that skill). My Mum is 50 years old, and I'm not being biased here, but you sure as hell wouldn't think it. Fabulous at 50, yet still 5 at heart, my Mother is definitely one of the strongest people I know - and if I end up to be half the woman she is, I'll be eternally happy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>My Sister</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Anyone who knows me personally, will know of the strong bond I have with my sister Alice. I am cringing as I type this, but she is my best friend as well as my sibling - and although we sometimes have the most violent arguments, we move on from them in less than 5 minutes. I have always looked up to Alice, mainly because she's a massive nerd and has an intellectual capability that I can't help but admire, but more so in the past year. Without a doubt, she is the strongest woman (can you call her that ... debatable) I know, and I am proud as punch to call her my sister. Although she does come out with the most vile things you could ever imagine, punch me so hard and so often that my body is covered in bruises, and burp CONSTANTLY (my ultimate pet peeve) - she is still someone who I massively look up to. Her determination to succeed is motivational, and I know that she will be massively successful. If you look at Alice, you may be deceived - she looks incredibly innocent and shy, with her immaculate hair and passionate love affair for anything with a floral print - yet she is one tough cookie. (did I actually just say that?). I'll tell you now, you would not mess with her - after experiencing her punches first hand, I'd advice you to steer clear. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><u><b>My Best Friend</b></u></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Georgina, I'm pretty sure that you've read me talking about my mum and Alice, and have been wondering when your mention is going to be - well, SURPRISE! HERE YOU GO! </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I am lucky enough to have grown up with this amazing girl, and she is pretty much a second sister to me - and a third daughter to my mum and dad. We have been to nursery, primary school, high school and now sixth form together - and thinking about the fact that in a few months time we may be across the country from each other genuinely makes me cry. There's people who come and go, but I know that I'll be friends with Georgina for the rest of my life. We often joke about going on mental girls holidays when we're 40 - leaving our kids and husbands at home to fend for themselves - and I know for a fact that that'll be reality one day. Georgina has stuck by me through thick and thin - and is genuinely the kindest, funniest and more supportive person I know. There isn't a day that goes by where we're not laughing at the most immature and pathetic things together, and I can tell her absolutely anything - whether it be something serious, or something extremely embarrassing. Georgina, you are the bestest friend I could ever wish for, and I am so grateful for you - even when you're taking the mick out of me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><u>My Nanna/Nana's</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I couldn't write this post without mentioning my beautiful Nannas. I am fortunate to still have the both of them, and they really do mean the absolute world to me. They are both absolute polar opposites in every sense of the word, yet I love them both in equal measures. Nanna Janice is strong, brave, opinionated and witty - whilst my Nana Delia is soft, gentle, hilarious and, at times, a little bit ditzy. (sorry Nana!) They both have qualities the other one doesn't, yet they get along so well! I'm always at my happiest when the whole family is together, and I love looking across the dinner table to see my two nanna's (and Grandad!) sitting opposite me. Like the rest of my family, they are extremely supportive - and both of them sit and read my blogs, or 'blobs' as Nana Delia has the tendency to call them. I know for a fact that I wouldn't be the person I am today without their influence, and I am proud to have a mixture of the qualities that they possess. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The truth is, I could sit here and write about every single woman in my life - as I am influenced and inspired by them all, but this blog post is already long enough, and the time before mocks start seems to be coming around very quick (wish me luck, please!). So, I'm going to finish off here - with a video created by Salvo Studios for International Women's Day 2017, which I utterly adore. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtXRnVCGh4Y" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtXRnVCGh4Y</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I hope you've had a great day, and I'll see you next week. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Grace x</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">p.s.</span><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Did anyone notice that I changed my domain from gracyviolet.blogspot.co.uk to gracyviolet.co.uk - how professional! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-19655310926444474032017-03-01T17:56:00.000+00:002017-03-01T17:56:49.720+00:00It's Been A Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tomorrow marks a year since you were so cruelly taken away from us, and whilst half of me thinks about how quickly those 365 days have come around, they also feel like a lifetime too. A whole year without you has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to face, and what makes it worse is that it's going to continue to grow. Another year shall pass, and another, and another and I may reach the age of 70 - sat in my rocking chair and thinking about how much time has passed, yet the pain never subsided.<br />
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It still doesn't feel real. I lie in my bed at night and the question that always springs to mind is 'Why?' Why did this happen? I'm still trying to figure that one out, and I know that I never will. Even when we were faced with what was going to happen, I still truly believed that it wouldn't. It kills me because I thought it was wrong, that the doctors had got it confused somehow. I remember telling you that I wasn't going to let anything happen to you, and I still haven't forgiven myself for breaking my promise.<br />
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I remember everything clear as day, and I am haunted by it. I get flashbacks which hurt me beyond belief, which make me grimace and squeeze my eyes tight - forcing myself to think about something else. I'm thinking about this very moment last year, and how I wasn't aware that my final moment with you would be my last. But, maybe I did. The truth is, deep down I knew - it was just the acceptance that I struggled with. I had to know, otherwise I wouldn't of said the words to you that I did on that last night. I count my blessings everyday that I hadn't just given you the obligatory kiss on the forehead and uttered 'Goodnight'.<br />
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'Us three against the world, forever and ever' - that is how it will always be. I will tell my children, if I ever do have them, of their wonderful Uncle Luke, who they'll never meet but I know loves them dearly. I'll tell them about how much fun we had growing up together and how, even after all this time, you are still the reason for my smile. I'll teach them how to grab life by their fists in the same way that you did, and how nothing is certain and you should embrace that instead of being scared of it.<br />
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There are things that still to this day I cannot bring myself to talk about. I made so many promises to you, and I am trying so hard to fulfil them. I told you that I'd visit Niagra Falls, and all the places you wanted to go but there's the pressure of time, and what if it runs out before I can carry out your wishes? What if time keeps passing by as quickly as it seems to be doing, and I've realised that I'm coming to the end of my life and never really done anything? I have so many dreams, goals and ambitions but the way I feel often stops me from reaching them. I don't even know what I want anymore. All I know is that I miss you, desperately, and the pain is becoming more intense with each passing day.<br />
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There are songs that I still can't listen to without choking up, films that I can't bring myself to watch and pictures which hurt my heart and cause the tears to fall within the matter of an instance. I tend to feel you beside me, I am aware of your presence hovering over me - but then there are days when I can no longer look beside me in the car and see you sat in the passenger seat. That's when things start to get bad. Things get so bad that I struggle to breathe, and all I can do I sleep in the hope that I'll wake up and the intensity and rawness will have cleared.<br />
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It's been a year, and whilst I miss you so deeply, I am also grateful that you were here - even if it was for such a short amount of time. Sixteen years doesn't seem enough for someone like you to be on Earth, but you lived more in those few years than some people do in their lifetime. Each day I'm trying so hard to be more like you, yet it never ceases to amaze me how you still managed to smile even on the darkest of days. I'm hoping I'll master that one day, but for now I'll just admire you for it.<br />
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If your watching over me like I truly believe you are, you'll know that these 365 days have not only brought such vast amounts of indescribable sadness, but there have also been some incredibly happy times too. I've achieved so much more than I thought I would, and everyone keeps telling me how proud you'd be - I desperately hope that's true. I'm almost reaching the end of A Levels - I never thought I would see the day. There's been all these moments when I've wanted to give up, but your strength has taught me to keep going no matter what. Although I'm late to school almost everyday because the getting up in the morning has become immensely difficult, I arrive with a smile painted on my face - completely in your honour.<br />
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I'm trying to keep your memory alive, but I fear upsetting people. You were, you are, so deeply loved and admired, and so many people feel the pain of losing you. We all love you, Luke. That's what makes it so difficult. In just a few months time I'll be moving on, I'll be meeting a new bunch of people who won't look at me and be reminded of such heartbreak. Whilst that's so refreshing - the thought of being somewhere where people only know my name and not my story - it's also terrifying too. Because when the time comes, I'll eventually have to tell my story and how do I explain it? How do I explain that the world is so cruel, and how the three of us became a lonely pack of two?<br />
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We were a team, and we've lost a player. No one will ever understand the bond that we shared and, if I'm honest, I don't want them to. Whilst the myths are not true, and we can't communicate telepathically, we all understood each other in a way that no one else ever will. My heart is broken, and I know that it can never truly be fixed. A part of me left on the day that you did, and I'll never get it back - I never want to. Because it belongs to you, and it'll keep you close to me forever.<br />
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One of my most cherished items is a necklace with your fingerprint on it. On days where I can't feel your presence, or where I particularly need you to be with me, I wear it and it's like you never left. I can place my finger on the top of it, and if I shut my eyes I can see you beside me. It's what happens when I open them which becomes an issue. Because some days I have to face reality, and that's something I struggle with. I try and exist in my own little bubble, but sometimes that bubble bursts and everything starts going wrong. My little game of 'let's pretend' is ruined, and that's when the sadness starts to come flooding in.<br />
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Then there are days when I'm fueled by the pain of losing you. I know that nothing lasts forever, and that I need to live each day like it's my last. I have changed in the fact that I know life is way too short to spend it being unhappy. In this sense, I no longer value other people's opinions in the way that they used to tear me down so much, I have become more confident and accepting towards myself - and I have realised that I can achieve anything I set my mind to, I just have to believe in myself first. I've learnt that a day without laughter is a day wasted, and I have tried to radiate happiness and positivity everywhere that I go. Although there are days when lifting my head off the pillow seems impossible, I think of the times when you continued going regardless of the obstacles which you faced.<br />
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I couldn't have gotten through this year without the incredible people that I have by my side. Not a single day goes by where I'm not grateful for them, and even when I feel so alone I'm constantly reminded that I'm not. Although I've lost so much, I can't forget how much I've also gained. I have always been a people person, yet definitely more so in these past 365 days. Despite the fact that I have the tendency to push people away when I truly need them the most, and I can be so annoying and hard to deal with, I am surrounded by people who have never given up on me. I will never be able to begin to thank them enough.<br />
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It's been a year and whilst nothing will ever hurt as much, I am comforted by the happy memories I have of you. Luke, you changed my life for the better and you will always be remembered. A whole year without your smile has been complete hell, but you had the kind of smile that I could never truly forget. Even when you were unable to do anything else, you always managed to turn up the corners of your mouth and my admiration for that will never wear off. I know that I will see you again someday, but instead of willing for that day to come, I will simply live a life that I know we'll both be proud of.<br />
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To you, Luke. I hope you're shining just as bright up there.<br />
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All my love,<br />
Forever and always.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-54094651134299958482017-02-15T18:02:00.000+00:002017-02-15T18:07:37.868+00:00FIRST VLOG??!!!??!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For a long time, I have been trying to convince Alice to get on board with the whole 'vlog' idea. Whilst I could just pick up a camera and do it by myself, I know that that wouldn't be half as much fun as it'd be if the two of us were to do it together - so, at the weekend, we bit the bullet and whipped out my camera to film a couple of clips each day. As you can quite obviously tell from the video, we are definitely not professional in the slightest, and this was only acting as a bit of fun - the chance to try something a little bit different. Whilst writing and blogging is still my ultimate favourite thing, it was nice to take a little break and create something a bit more visual for this week - in all honesty, I wasn't going to post this vlog, but it has made me smile every single time I've watched it and I hope it has the same effect on you!<br />
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I'm not going to lie, I'm ever so slightly nervous about posting this - what will people think? What will the responses be like?, but this fear of the unknown is ridiculous. I already put myself out there by writing a blog, so why not try a hand at a vlog too? Many people, myself included, try to stop themselves from doing what they want by blaming other people - 'oh, other people will judge me for it' etc etc, when the only person stopping you is ... yourself. </div>
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Some people may love it, some may hate it. If you like it, then I'm glad!, but if you don't - simply don't watch! This was just a little bit of fun, and I hope you enjoy x</div>
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You can find the vlog here - <a href="https://youtu.be/AaDx-ZkysZ4" target="_blank">https://youtu.be/AaDx-ZkysZ4</a></div>
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See you next week,</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span></div>
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Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-66698984752858111882017-02-08T17:56:00.000+00:002017-02-08T17:56:32.350+00:00A World Without Social MediaImagine a world without the buzz of social media - the endless scrolling through tweets, the selfie taking and the silly videos for our Snapchat stories. Imagine waking up in the morning, without rolling over to check your phone to see who's posted on Instagram, or if anyone's sent you a Whatsapp. It seems impossible, doesn't it?<br />
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Sunday evenings are where we come up with our goals for the following week, or at least I do anyway - how many people have sat down and thought 'I'm going to eat healthy, starting from tomorrow', yet Monday comes around and you find yourself giving into your unhealthy cravings, with no valid reason other than 'I'll start next week' - I know I'm certainly guilty of that. Yet this Sunday was different, I wasn't thinking about parting with my sugary snacks (we're better together, anyway), I was thinking about parting with my equally beloved social media accounts.<br />
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To say I'm 'obsessed' with social media would be pushing it a little, but I'm certainly a fan. I carry my phone around with me at all times, and am constantly checking it for updates - worrying what I'll miss if I'm not checking it every 5 minutes. It reached a point where I'd be sat in front of the TV and instead of watching the programme, I'd be scrolling through Instagram, Twitter or Facebook.<br />
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So, on impulse, I took my phone and deleted all my social media apps from it. (Except from Whatsapp, my group chats definitely hold more importance than my sanity). I have many reasons for doing this - the first one being (boring!) that I do need to focus more on my school work. There have been many occasions where I've sat in the study centre with a massive pile of work in front of me, yet instead have unlocked my phone to see that Jenny on Twitter has got caught in the rain on her way to work (what an awful, awful example).<br />
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One of the worst things about me is how easily I can get distracted. Even whilst writing this blog post I have clicked on Spotify countless times and spent time going through old JLS albums to choose the next song (currently playing: one shot). I'm not going to lie and say I've not been on social media at all - yet the amount of time I have spent on it has more than halved. Although it's only been a couple of days, there's definitely been a significant improvement in my mood, my energy levels and also my productivity. Instead of spending half an hour looking through Snapchat stories, I spend that time reading or (even better) REVISING!!!<br />
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Social media puts pressure on us, I think everyone can admit that. It puts pressure on us to construct the idea that we all lead perfect lives, to make sure we get the best lighting for that selfie or write the funniest tweet that's going to get us loads of retweets or favourites. We get our validation from the amount of attention our posts get - if someone writes a comment or, better, shares our post then we can finally feel a sense of satisfaction. If someone has a higher number of followers than us, then we assume that they are automatically better at what they do.<br />
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I personally struggle to understand why it's called 'Social Media' when it's anything but sociable. You see people walking past you on the street utterly engrossed in their Iphones, or families out in a restaurant all looking down at their technological devices - here's an idea ... TALK TO EACH OTHER !!! We've become accustomed to thinking 'ahh, I'm bored - Facebook will entertain me' as opposed to thinking 'ahh, I'm bored - let's go and sit with my family'. We no longer need to arrange to meet with our friends when we can talk to them through a computer screen instead, or if there's something that we need to say to someone but are a bit worried to do so we'll hide behind a text or a Whatsapp message instead of addressing them face to face.<br />
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I am guilty of all of these examples by the way, I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm not. I guess it just takes stepping away from it all to realise all of this. However, although I've just sat here and criticised it, I don't think the concept of social media should be held in an entirely negative light. Without social media, I wouldn't be able to do this blogging malarky that I enjoy so much and I probably wouldn't be looking for a career in the Media industry. (I also wouldn't be able to enjoy constant updates on Benedict Cumberbatch's whereabouts too, but that's another story.)<br />
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Social media is a great thing, don't get me wrong, yet I can't help but feel like it offers an alternative to physical human interaction. I'd love to sit in a restaurant and see people talking to each other instead of tweeting or go to a concert where nobody's recording it for Snapchat, yet I know that there's a very slim chance of that happening. Equally, I'd love to spread the messages my blogs contain far and wide, and I can only do this through using platforms like Twitter and Instagram.<br />
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It's a tricky one. There's this need for escapism, yet also immediacy - and it's choosing which one you would prefer. So, to end this blog post, I'd like to see whether you can delete all social media apps off your phone for an entire week. Honestly, it does feel weird at first, but it's also quite liberating. I'd love to hear how you find it!<br />
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See you next week,<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-6817104546967501792017-02-01T18:00:00.000+00:002017-02-01T18:00:28.195+00:00A Broken Heart'Just because you know something is going to happen, it doesn't make it any easier when it does' is something that I have said many times before, and I'm certainly feeling the repercussions of it now. No matter how prepared you feel for the inevitable, it doesn't mean that there is even slightly less of an impact when it happens. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months and soon it's like you're urging it to just happen so you don't have to live in fear any longer - no matter how selfish, and messed up that may seem. All I've been thinking of recently is about this time last year, and I can't seem to escape from it ... no matter how hard I try.<br />
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For most of 2016, all my family and I seemed to receive was increasingly bad news. At each point I would think, 'This is it, it simply can't get any worse than this" and I would be proven wrong again and again. Whenever I think about those times, I feel the exact same feelings as though they happened yesterday, yet they also feel like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I'm convinced that it's all just a bad dream, that I'll wake up tomorrow and none of this will be real. Yet, every single day I am faced with the horror that this is real; and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life getting used to that.<br />
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I sit here alone, and there's so many things that I wish I could've said or done differently, and whilst I know that they wouldn't have made any difference, I'm still faced with the overwhelming guilt that they could have. I still feel like you're here, and every time that anything good or bad happens I have to force myself from running upstairs to your bedroom, because although I expect you still to be sat at your desk or lying on your bed (you were such a lazy bum), I'm faced with the crippling realisation that you won't be.<br />
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There's so many things I wish I could say, and it's killing me that I can't. I feel lost, and for some reason I'm imagining that you would be able to figure it all out for me. But that's just an idealisation because I know that even if you were still here, you wouldn't be able to. I shut my eyes, and I can still see your face as clear as day, still hear your voice, your laugh and even the horrendous hiccup sound that you used to do, but then I open them and there's just ... nothing. Emptiness. I curse the times when I would shout at you to 'GET OUT OF MY ROOM' because you used to sing too loud and I would now do anything to hear one song again. I laugh at the times when I would hug you and you would pretend that you hated it and push me away (at least I hope you were joking, anyway).<br />
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I'm scared because I've changed, I'm not the same person that I was when you were here and it doesn't feel right. All these things I'm experiencing seem wrong when you're not by my side, and I hope more than anything that you're watching over us. I hope you're proud. I'm craving acceptance from you, but you're not here to give it.<br />
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See, when people hear the phrase 'Broken Heart' they are quick to associate it with the idea of two lovers going their separate ways - typically one member of the relationship realising that they infatuation they once felt for their significant other is no longer present. Usually 'broken heart' creates the imagery of going long and painful days without being with the person that made your heart race and your veins feel alive, the person who you truly believed, from the bottom of your naive and vulnerable heart, would be there until the end - whenever that may be.<br />
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For me, a 'broken heart' is different to that of an 'ordinary' person.<br />
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The first time I felt my heart break was a couple of years ago now. It's news that no one ever expects to hear, the kind of news which changes your life forever - in the instance upon hearing it. It's staring at your other family members across the table, wondering whether you've misheard or if it's some kind of sick joke. It's the feeling of the room going from too shocked to speak, to terrified and heartbroken all in the matter of seconds. It's looking at the person who you've spent your whole life with, who you love more than anything else on Earth, as they watch their family fall apart over the betrayal of their body.<br />
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Hospitals, I can't even think about them nowadays. I know all too well the smell of disinfectant, the faces of the nurses as they try to be upbeat and jolly in an environment that nobody ever wants to be in. But here was where I met some of the most inspiring people, the kind of people who you know that you will never forget. The people who offered light in the darkest times, I don't think I could ever begin to thank them. Yet they too feel like a distant memory, as though they're characters in a book that I read a long time ago. Because it still doesn't feel real, even after all this time. I think it's because this time last year, I wasn't living. I was going through each day, uncertain as to whether you'd still be here at the end of it. I tried to be strong for so long, which is why I feel so helpless when I get like this. It's as though I've learnt where the 'off' switch is for my emotions, yet the 'on' switch can just be activated at any time.<br />
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In the past couple of years, I've felt heartbreak that no one should ever have to feel and it kills me that other people are experiencing this too. I would do anything to take everyone else's sadness away, yet I can't even control my own. There's so much I want to say, but I don't know how to say it. All I know is that right now, I'm missing you more than I ever imagined. It's been 10 months and I get angry that I still feel this way, but I'm not giving myself enough time. I know I won't get over this, that I just have to learn to live with it - I need the bad days in order to truly appreciate the good ones, and don't get me wrong, there's many of them!<br />
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I'm sorry if you found this post uncomfortable and tricky to read, but I don't know how else to let this all out. Writing thoughts down helps me make sense of things, and I feel an indescribable relief when I press 'publish' - as if it all goes away when I do. I hate to think that this post has made you sad, but I wanted to show the reality of loss. People, and I'm guilty of it myself, feel as though there's a time limit on grief, and that they should be over it by a certain point of time. The truth is, it doesn't work like that - I wish it did, I really do.<br />
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Because this is reality. I'm not writing this because I want sympathy, I'm writing it because I want people to understand. Grief isn't how the portray it in films, or TV shows where one day you just wake up and you're over it. Grief is breaking down at times when you don't expect to, it's being happy all day and then the thoughts that come out once your head hits the pillow at night. It's wanting to be independent, yet being unable to be in the house by yourself without crying until your eyes are red raw, or flinching every time you meet someone new - wondering when the inevitable 'do you have any siblings' question is about to be asked. I want to write about the good things that happen in my life, but I think it's equally important to write about the bad. <br />
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I'll see you next week.<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span><br />
<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-63597057050955829732017-01-25T17:56:00.000+00:002017-01-25T17:57:26.045+00:00"You're so tiny"My blog is a space where I write about my thoughts and feelings, in order to make sense of them and to stop them from just being inside of my head. I mainly write about things that are important to me, issues that I feel need addressing and pretty much anything that I deem important. However, there has been something that has bothered me for a while now, yet I have always put off writing about it mainly due to the fact that I didn't know whether or not it was too personal, or too out there to publish. After an incident yesterday, I felt that it was the time to write about this - although I would never regard myself as influential in any way, through my blog I know that I have a voice and a platform to address topics which I see as important and may help people understand the impact that they have on other people.<br />
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Whilst I'm terrified to post this, the thought that it may be able to help someone, or even make people stop and think before they make a comment that they may see as 'harmless' yet can have more of an effect than they realise, truly motivates me to write and publish this. So ... here we go.<br />
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I was never a 'big' child, aside from the expected 'puppy fat' which I developed during my pre/early teens - which, admittedly, I didn't have much of. I've written before about there being a growing pressure on young girls to look a certain way, and I know that this was something that affected me - I remember crying on multiple occasions about the fact that I had put weight on, and it truly would make me feel horrible. As young girls develop into women (although I think I'm still waiting for that to happen... haha) it's expected that they're going to put on a bit of weight - unfortunately we can't wear kids clothes for the rest of our lives (however hard I may try!) - yet it still came as a huge shock to me when I did.<br />
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I remember being in my early teens and having constant hang ups about my body - I used to constantly think about how much weight I wanted to lose, and dream about having a toned stomach and shapely arms. However, although I thought this all the time, I never really did anything about it - mainly due to my love for anything of the chocolate variety, and the fact that I'm not the biggest fan of exercise.<br />
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As I grew up, my weight levelled out and I developed a figure which was slightly on the smaller side ('the figure of an 11 year old boy' as people like to point out), and I was now faced with being constantly torn between wanting to stay like that, or to gain a few pounds and be more 'womanly'. Yet due to 1) a fast metabolism, 2) being a vegetarian and 3) not having a tremendously big appetite, this never happened. Over the past year, I have lost weight due to understandable reasons, but was on my way to becoming more accepting towards my body and yes, perhaps the 'lack of' assets that I possess. After the incident yesterday, I came home and clicked 'new post' on my Blogger page, and felt the need to rant, just to let everything out, admittedly to save me from keeping it all in my head and it leading onto a bigger issue.<br />
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Here you go;<br />
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I'm writing this because I've had enough. At the time that I am currently writing this, I have come home after experiencing a situation where I was made to feel like complete and utter rubbish about myself - in particular, my body. For some reason, as of recently, people have felt the need to comment on my figure, and I'm SICK OF IT. For many people saying things like 'oh, you're so tiny' or 'I think you could do with putting a bit of weight' is deemed okay, and is apparently meant to be taken as a compliment - which, if I'm perfectly honest, I'm still trying to figure out how that could be. If I was to turn round and say to someone 'oh, you're so big' or 'I think you could do with losing a bit of weight' (which I would never ever EVER dream of saying to someone, but let's just look at this from a hypothetical point of view) it would most definitely not be deemed as socially acceptable or okay in any shape or form, so why do different rules apply to people who are on the smaller side?<br />
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Body confidence is something that is becoming well recognised and celebrated, yet I honestly do believe that people need a bit of help with understanding the meaning of this. Body confidence shouldn't just be about praising people with curves or even attempting to make them feel better by pointing out how 'disgusting' it is when people's hipbones stick out. Once you really look into it, some of the things you find are so utterly insulting - an example being 'Real Men Go For Curves, Only Dogs Like Bones' - as if we should somehow put on weight to complete our lifelong quest to find a 'real man', it truly is just ridiculous. I think body confidence should be more about celebrating every body, regardless of your shape or size, and less about comparing the two in order to make someone feel better - because, realistically, you're just making another person feel worse. There's been countless occasions where I've felt good in an outfit, and then had a comment said about my weight - which has resulted in me going and covering up in a big jumper or, my favourite thing EVER, my dressing gown.<br />
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I think it's a universal truth that we all want what we can't have, whether we admit that or not. Whilst I would like to blame people's comments on jealousy or whatnot, I still don't think that it can be excused - would we be so desperate to find an explanation if it were aimed at someone who was a bit larger? What I find particularly sad is that I can honestly say that I don't know anyone who's happy and confident with their body, and I wish that I could change that - yet I know for a fact that the way to go about this isn't by looking at other body shapes and comparing yours in a more positive light, it should be about remembering the fact that every body (&everybody) is beautiful in their own way - regardless of whether they're a size 4 or a size 40. <br />
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To be kind and respectful towards others, we firstly need to start with ourselves. Instead of looking in the mirror and thinking about what you'd like to change about yourself, how about you instead focus on what you like about yourself? If you're struggling with that, read this quote by Shane Koyczan, one of my all time favourite spoken word poets;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJlkNbmhcpmSE34pbBFcm96PRw1aL9stnQqtGZacD0KTiq_UmjAXR8itAzSxEcXlLCQXhonFkRP4bvCI_dYgLLd1R0Vt2gBqoMH_aGPOFeqx90aWHG5GxWAerJnkheSbd814I_BRNETg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-01-25+at+17.14.23.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJlkNbmhcpmSE34pbBFcm96PRw1aL9stnQqtGZacD0KTiq_UmjAXR8itAzSxEcXlLCQXhonFkRP4bvCI_dYgLLd1R0Vt2gBqoMH_aGPOFeqx90aWHG5GxWAerJnkheSbd814I_BRNETg/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-01-25+at+17.14.23.png" width="436" /></a></div>
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I'm sorry for the long rant, but I felt like it was time to address this. It's 2017, and people are still commenting negatively on other people's body types, and I'm fed up with it. How about before you say anything, even if you mean it in a nice way, you take a couple of seconds to think and process what you are actually about to say - starting by putting yourself in the other persons shoes and thinking about how you would feel if they were to say it to you. There's so so much more to a person than just how they look but, speaking from experience, it does feel absolutely awful when people make comments about your appearance. So, for now, how about we practise self love and self care, and then project that towards other people?<br />
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I hope you enjoyed (??) this blog post, and I'll see you next week.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span>Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-91502112979132567732017-01-18T17:56:00.000+00:002017-01-18T17:56:49.745+00:00Identity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You know when you're absentmindedly watching YouTube videos and it suddenly gets to the point where you're 5 minutes into a video, with no real explanation or idea of how you've ended up watching it? That happened to me the other day, where I stumbled across a short film called 'Identity'. Admittedly, when I find myself in the depths of YouTube, I eventually realise it's time to go to bed when it's 2am and I'm finding myself hysterically laughing at videos of cats (or faceswaps... my all time favourite is this one <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ET5vtZeVJOY" target="_blank">here</a>), but this particular video didn't really have the usual effect.</div>
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(link to film <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikGVWEvUzNM" target="_blank">here</a>)</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">The film is set in a "parallel universe" where everybody wears masks due to their lack of self identity - a moment I found particularly interesting is when a girl crosses the hall from one group of friends to another, changing her mask in order to fit in with the people she is surrounded by. This visual choice is open to interpretation but I see it as the desire to blend in and become part of a group, instead of the 'sore thumb' who sticks out and doesn't really look like they belong anywhere. The people you are friends with, realistically, will share similar values and morals to your own, yet I don't, in any way, think that this means you are all clones of each other - I think it's your differences which make the friendship what it is.</span></div>
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I remember, a few years ago now, when a band (twelve24... oh, the memories) came into school and spoke about how we each have a fingerprint which is completely different from everybody else's - which, when I think about it, is actually slightly terrifying. (For anyone who asks the commonly asked question of 'How do I tell the difference between you and Alice?', I think that's going to be my new response - "look at our fingerprints"). The truth is, everybody does have their own identity - no matter how similar they may seem to their siblings, friends, family etc etc.</div>
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For example, I am yet to find someone who detests milk, yoghurt, cheese, cream (or anything of the dairy variety) as much as I do, who also has a chronic phobia of vomit and is utterly in love with Benedict Cumberbatch. (If you're out there .... then hi!).</div>
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Even though I look extremely similar to my sister, we have completely different identities (shocking, I know!) and are more different than, I think, people realise. Because we look alike, people tend to regard us as the same person, which can be annoying sometimes - especially because she says the weirdest things EVER and I don't want to be associated with that! </div>
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So, what shapes your identity? Without getting too deep and philosophical, I think the simple answer for this is that everyday you have ever lived has shaped who you become - both the good days, and the bad. The environment in which you have been brought up in shapes your identity, and so do the people you are surrounded by. However, I think you also have the power to create your own identity for yourself - through the choices you make, and the actions upon which you respond with. </div>
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Something that has been part of my identity for most of my life is the fact that I am a triplet - no past tense; not 'was', not 'used to be' - I am a triplet and I will be for the rest of my life. I remember times when I used to be embarrassed to say that, fearing about how different and unusual it is - now I would give absolutely anything to go back and bask in the fact that I'm part of something that not a lot of people are without it feeling ... incomplete.</div>
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I also love to write (surprise, surprise!) - if I'm not doing it myself, then I'm watching/reading/listening to other people's work. I guess that stems from growing up in an environment where I was always encouraged to read, which drove me to go that step further and create my own work - firstly in diary format which, thinking about that now, makes me cringe uncontrollably - 'Dear Diary, x fell out with me today and I feel so sad' or 'Dear Diary, I think I want to marry x' you know, the usual (pre)teen drivel - a younger version of Bridget Jones. </div>
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My favourite colour is purple, which is fitting as my middle name is Violet. I spent years of my life being embarrassed about that, but learnt to love it after I watched American Horror Stories and was introduced to the character of Violet. (Tate n Violet 4evs !! xx) Now I sit in smugness when people are telling their middle names, and I know that there's very little chance that they will possess the same one as mine. </div>
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There's so much depth to everyone, which I feel you can't personally describe yourself. For example, if I was to sit here and describe my own identity, I think it'd be very different to how Alice or anyone else who knows me, sometimes better than I know myself. (Mainly for the simple reason that I'd probably leave out all the bad stuff).</div>
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So, to round off a post which originally started with my love for a video, I just wanted to end with saying that I think everyone should embrace their own personal identity instead of feeling the need to hide it or be embarrassed of it, fearing the reaction you'll receive from other people. Be unapologetically yourself because, at the end of the day, that's all you can be. </div>
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I hope you enjoyed this post, and I'll see you next week!</div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span></div>
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<br />Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-309174344337701649.post-85621477599908946272017-01-11T17:57:00.000+00:002017-01-11T17:57:42.123+00:00FailureA couple of days ago, I got in from work and just burst into tears in front of my mum and sister. I felt overwhelmed with the amount of things I had to do - a driving test looming, an endless stack of school work and everything else in between. For around 10 minutes I sat at the kitchen table and bawled my eyes out, worrying about how much I had to do, and how little time I had left - telling my mum that I just wanted to 'drop everything' ... or, in other words, give up everything I have already come so far in achieving. I know that I've spoken about this before, but I have extremely limited self confidence when it comes to my own ability, which results in me doubting absolutely everything that I ever do. I have heard the words 'Just have confidence in your own ability' countless times, but it truly is so much easier said than done. <div>
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At this particular moment in time, the thing I was most worried about was my driving test. Failure is one of my biggest fears, and I cannot even explain how worried I was that the result of my test wouldn't be a good one. Over the past couple of months, I experienced an utter downfall in my confidence in just about everything, and my driving skills were certainly affected. </div>
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After I'd stopped being a miserable sod (sorry Mum!), we sat down and watched one of my all time favourite films 'The Danish Girl' in an attempt to cheer me up (which, if you're familiar with the plot, doesn't seem entirely logical). The film follows Lili Elbe, a Danish painter, who became one of the first people to undergo a sex-change operation after coming to terms with the fact that she had been born a man, but knew in her heart that 'Lili' was her true self. Not going to lie, I feel like I've not done the film much justice with that pathetic attempt of a plot summary, but I really do recommend that you watch it! I love everything about the film - the plot, the locations and, of course, the characters - and it's so different to anything I have ever watched before. </div>
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Anyway, throughout the film I became aware of Lili's sheer determination to achieve everything that she wanted to achieve. She battles many demons throughout the entirety of the film, yet one aspect which utterly resonated with me was at the very end. For the final operation, she was aware of the risks it involved, yet she still went ahead and went through with it. The next morning I woke up feeling so inspired, and so ready to work hard and achieve everything that I wanted to. </div>
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With that said, I went out driving around 4 times a day, made myself a list of all the things I had to do for college, and sorted out other things that I also needed to get done. For so long I let fear and silly thoughts hold me back from everything that I wanted to do, and I knew that I could either let these feelings dictate my choices, or I could fight them and get the outcome that I wanted. The thing is, I have come so far, and there's no way that I am slipping back again. I made a promise that 2017 was going to be 'my year' and I'm so determined to make it amazing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC9U0VG9FHIUpXsQlmyiVFMdPFJutyYJqejo7bVmrZbkeWXXWH0cjoXklMNDx9dQ9jsphUMLvj2WPcYyPKNLXpKIbRASmDQU8FBj6Q6RgwShE7WVvZTPH0r5Csk8Ae4vR-lUHPwyHYMz4/s1600/the+danish+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC9U0VG9FHIUpXsQlmyiVFMdPFJutyYJqejo7bVmrZbkeWXXWH0cjoXklMNDx9dQ9jsphUMLvj2WPcYyPKNLXpKIbRASmDQU8FBj6Q6RgwShE7WVvZTPH0r5Csk8Ae4vR-lUHPwyHYMz4/s640/the+danish+girl.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I know for many people this may seem like an extremely over dramatic post, but I know that there's people out there who it may help. So many people fear failure - it chews us up and spits us out, making us feel so worthless when we can feel it looming above us. However, and again I know it's so much easier said than done, but if you work hard and try your best then 'failure' simply doesn't exist. Yes, you may not get the highest marks, or perhaps you don't pass but the only thing you can ever really do it keep your calm and try as hard as you physically can. </div>
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When I feel like this, I look for inspiration from others who have been brave enough to go ahead with their wishes, despite the risks they had to take. Alongside Lili Elbe, one of my greatest inspirations is my inhumanly brave brother. Luke went through things which most people will never even think about in their lifetime, and experiencing his bravery and maturity towards absolutely anything that was thrown at him has given me enough inspiration for the rest of my life. With anything I do, I remember everything that he went through, and it always puts things into perspective. Making him proud is always on my mind, and I'm at my happiness when I know that I have. </div>
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Sorry for another rambling blog post, I always feel that I have so much to say but struggle with how to say it! For anyone wondering ... I did do my driving test, and PASSED !! Perhaps in that case I'd advise that you stay off the roads, I'm very excitable! </div>
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I hope you're having a fabulous day, and I'll see you next week!</div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Grace x</span></div>
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Grace Fallonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18328823705280501276noreply@blogger.com0