Nanny.

I've been contemplating for a few days now on whether or not to blog about this. For starters, it's hugely personal and it's still raw. Very raw.

In life, the only guarantee we have when we are born is that at some point, we will die. Yet, despite this, 'we', as a collective species, are all pretty bad at confronting our own mortality... until it slaps you square in the face that is. I've experienced loss before and I'm as bad as my fellow man at dealing with it. However, no amount of loss can prepare you for when you lose someone as close as your grandmother. I'm literally on an emotional rollercoaster ride at the moment but I thought writing down my feelings would act as some sort of therapy, even if the effect is only temporary.

Now, I feel I need to recognise the fact that 'Nanny' isn't the most common title for a grandmother to have. By all accounts, my grandmother actually didn't like being called 'Nanny'. However, as I was the eldest grandchild and someone who couldn't actually say 'Granny' at the time, the name stuck. Looking back now, she never looked like a 'Gran' or a 'Granny' or a 'Nan' anyway... She looked like a 'Nanny' and she was perfect. Thankfully, she accepted her title with the type of grace only a grandmother could have and she made sure to sign all of her cards with 'Nanny'.

I have always thought that if you closed your eyes really tight and imagined the archetype-grandmother, you would open your eyes to find my 'Nanny' standing and smiling in front of you. She had grey, permed hair like the Queen, something that never changed for as long as I knew her. She wore glasses and had false teeth. Her personal style was the height of 'Granny-Couture' - she was never without tartan trousers, a wooly jumper or cardigan and loafers. Chic indeed.

She had the perfect voice for a Grandmother as well. Soft and soothing, accompanied with typical Grandmother sayings such as 'Cor'; 'Blimey'; 'Crikey'; 'Wotcha' (I'm making her sound like an Australian Cockney... she wasn't). Every single birthday, the highlight of the day would be when she would ring and give a rousing rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. It was always sort of a jazzy arrangement, her own unique style. Not something that would win 'The X Factor' certainly but perfect all the same. She also had the most wonderful laugh, a sort of a giggle that came from the heart, sometimes a little shrill at the end but always full of glee.

When it came to 'Grandmother Skills', my 'Nanny' was definitely top notch. She was fantastic at sewing, even going so far as to make me a dress for my starring debut as Dorothy in my Primary School's production of 'The Wizard of Oz'. She made the best flapjack. No contest. And her hugs? Well, they were the best. Even after I grew to nearly double the height of her, she could still give you the biggest, back-breaking hugs that would literally squeeze the breath out of you. That's how much love she had to give and it was endless.

When I was a child, Katie and I would spend every summer with both my 'Nanny' and my Grandad. I wish I could remember all the amazing times we spent together at their caravan but there are far too many. Whether it was cycling up and down the road, sitting in the paddling pool, participating in dance competitions or karaoke at the clubhouse, watching 'Annie' and 'The Jungle Book' one after the other repeatedly or simply running out of bed in the morning to climb in beside them whilst they had their morning tea, they are all precious childhood memories. Ones that I will never forget to treasure.

However, as you get older, things begin to change. You begin to get a little too big to share the bed, you begin to outgrow the child movies, school starts to become a more prominent priority in your life, the distance between England and Scotland seems to grow larger, time seems to go faster and then 'BAM', you're suddenly eighteen years old and off to university, ready to begin a new chapter in your life. And yet, despite the distance, the love never dwindles or diminishes. Even though I didn't get to see my grandparents as much as I would have liked over the last few years, we certainly didn't love each other any less. And the few times we did share together in the last few years were fantastic.

Last year, when it was Katie's eighteenth, I could not have imagined at that time that that would be the last time I would ever see my 'Nanny'. It was a normal weekend and when we said 'Goodbye', I never even considered the possibility that that would be the last time I would ever see her. A little foolish in hindsight, considering that both of my grandparents were in their eighties at this point. I still never even considered it when she was admitted to hospital last month for the first time. 'Nanny' was old, yes but she was still fairly active and had plenty more years in her. I did start to worry when she was admitted a second time but having survived four heart attacks in three weeks, she seemed almost indestructible for the time being. When she was discharged, we all breathed a sigh of relief. We became complacent. Stupid really.

I spoke to her on the phone for the very last time a week ago when she was discharged. It was quite brief considering how exhausted she was but she did sound happy and that is a great comfort to me. I told her how good it was to hear her voice and how glad I was that she had got out of hospital before New Year. She told me how happy she was because she was sitting in her armchair, at home, surrounded by her family. I told her to take care of herself, that I loved her and that I would see her very soon. If there is any comfort in all of this, it's that I'm glad I told her that I loved her one last time. Because I truly did.

The last few days have been a bit of a blur. From the moment I was told she had passed away to now, it's been quick. The thought of going back to some sort of normalcy is a difficult prospect at the moment because I cannot see how things can ever be normal again. I have lost such huge part of my life and I'm unsure how to come to terms with that. I'm comforted by the fact that in the end, she was very happy and that she did not suffer. A small consolation in the midst of so much grief.

It's only now that the gravity of the situation has begun to hit me. I'm slowly realising that I will never see her again. I will never see my 'Nanny' and Grandad together again. I will never hug her again. I will never see her writing on birthday or Christmas cards ever again. I will never hear her sing 'Happy Birthday' to me ever again. I'm actually frightened that I will eventually forget what her voice sounded like.

However, as the special person she was, she lives through the ones she left behind. She lives through my Grandfather, the man she chose to spend sixty years of her life and have four children with and who I hope, will find that life is still worth living to the full, even without her. She lives through my mum and my aunts and uncles and finally, through us, her grandchildren. The last photograph she saw of me was my graduation photo whilst she was still in hospital. I hoped she realised when she looked at that photograph that she had had a huge influence on the sort of person I have become and that she was proud of me.

I hope that wherever she is now, she is at peace and although it's painful right now, I will find the strength to continue my life without her, for her. She was an incredibly special lady, a truly kind and caring person and a wonderful grandmother. And I will never forget her as long as I live.

I love you, 'Nanny', Forever and Always.

Let Me Occupy Your Mind... Again.

I've been sitting here for the past five minutes, looking at this blank, virtual canvas and deliberating with myself. 'Should I start my blog again?'; 'Do I have anything interesting to say anymore?'; 'Will I even manage to successfully keep it going for longer than four days?'. The answer to all these questions and many others in my life at the moment is that I simply do not know.

 My life has become unnervingly boring and predictable. I haven't been out of the country in almost two years. I can't procrastinate anymore because I have absolutely nothing to do anyway. I actually miss university because at least I was on some sort of road to somewhere (although the 'somewhere' I had in mind seems light years away). I'm nearly twenty-three and I still share a room with my sister. I could go on and on but the list is endless. All I'm saying, is that when I was leaving school, thinking where will I be, five years from now, this wasn't what I had in mind. I seem to be in a perpetual state of limbo, not yet a fully-grown adult yet no longer a child either. Unfortunately, when it comes down to it, the only person that can get me out of this rut is the lazy, tired and unmotivated bear that is myself.

Now, I'm not going to start this 'New Year, New Me' codswallop (even though the only people I see saying 'New Year, New Me' are the people moaning about people saying 'New Year, New Me) because let's face it, it never works. However, I do need to make my life more fulfilling so in honour of this month of 'change', I have a list of things that I want to achieve this year

1. Read at least four books per month: I used to be a big reader - why did this change?! So many books to read, so little years left on this planet to read them all.

2. See Mark at least once a month: Yes, we have discussed the fact that we don't feel the need to see each other all of the time. However, once every four months is a tad unacceptable.

3. Do something 'Cultural' once a month: Whether it's an orchestra or the theatre, I don't care. I am lucky enough to live on the doorstep of one of the most cultural cities in the world and I do not take full advantage of this. Luckily, Katie has already made sure I meet January's target by purchasing me tickets to go and see 'Wicked' in Edinburgh for Christmas (I cried and I am not ashamed to admit that). I have never seen a ballet or an opera either so they're definitely the top of my list.

4. Reconnect with some old friends: On the whole, I don't think I'm too bad at this but there are some people I have literally had no communication with over the past year. I would really like to see some of these people again.. Life is funny sometimes but I'm a firm believer in 'It's never too late'.

5. Start a Diary: This is a risky one. I highly doubt I will have enough patience to continue a diary. However, I would like one which I could carry everywhere and record things such as ideas, funny moments, my wacky dreams or pieces of writing. Which brings me to my next point...

6. Write More: I have recently come to the realisation that I'm pretty mediocre at Business. Therefore, the only way I'm going to make my millions is by writing a bestseller. I do have it in myself to do it. However, at the moment, all of my ideas are swimming around in the soup I call a brain.

7. Get into the Christmas Spirit: I don't mean right this minute but 'holy moly', I could have made Scrooge look like one of Santa's elves last year. Sainsbury's crushed my Christmas spirit last year, I admit it. I was defeated. However, I vow that it won't this time. Pantos, mince pies, Christmas movie marathons - I don't care what it takes but I will become so 'Christmassy', I will literally become an all-singing and dancing Christmas pudding (I actually hope not seeing as Christmas Pudding is the worst foodstuff in the history of cuisine).

8. Leave the Country: If it involves getting a fake passport, changing my name to Miguel and sitting in the back of a Tesco's lorry on the way to Calais then so be it. I will go abroad this year. The dream would be Interrailling. We'll see what my bank balance says on that one (probably 'Computer says No').

I think that to an average person, these things are pretty easy to achieve. Then again, I'm not your average Joe (or Jane). If the start to this year has taught me anything, life is too short to sit on your arse and wish for things to happen. I think I will need to start to follow some sort of Motivation Quotations blog on Tumblr to make this happen but if that's what it takes, then so be it!

This year is for you, Nanny.

The Journey to Asianhood

It's 2.48am in the morning and I've been lying in my bed for the past hour doing nothing but watch K-Pop videos. Then, I was hit with a realisation not too dissimilar from getting figuratively slapped in the face with a wet fish. Not only has it been about an age since I last wrote a blog but also, a huge change in my life has occurred that should be given the chance to take centre stage and bow with pride. Therefore, I want my readers to be happy that I am dedicated enough to blog when I could be getting precious sleep (the real reason is that I will forget in the morning so don't feel guilty).

I'll try not beat around the bush (although from the title, I'm sure you can guess where I'm heading with this).When I came on exchange, I was expecting to embrace the Quebecoise culture (not the Canadian culture sadly, Quebec is virtually its own country). However, instead of eating snails or actively pursuing a career of permanently wearing berets, I have seized the opportunity to reject my Scottish roots and become something completely different.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time I came out from behind the Oriental screen (I tried googling Japanese closet and it never really worked, my analogies are getting worse).

I am Asian.

Okay, I'm not Asian but I want to be and since I have had the pleasure of making very good friends with people from Japan, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan and China (I'm so multi-cultural now), I have taken the best parts of each culture and melded them together to become a 'Super-Mega Happy Asian'. I admit, it sounds bizarre but bare with me (and since when have I ever been normal).

Here below I will list the various areas of 'Asianhood' that I have adopted.

Photos

It seems I've been Asian for quite sometime because I am infamous for taking photos. I am the bane of my friend's lives because no matter where we go, my trusty camera is always ready, whether it is to catch a questionable facial expression or taking tourist photos in Bangor (It was my first time in Wales, give me a break).

Chopsticks

When I first sat around the table with my Asian friends for dinner and picked up my chopsticks and used them with the grace of a geisha (albeit a clumsy geisha), there were some gasps of surprise, shock that I could even hold them properly, let alone use them. Not one to shy away from basking in glory, I felt a sense of pride but ashamedly, I didn't tell them that not only can most people use them but my own sister has been using them since she was like nine. However, whilst my skills in 'chopstickery' are not particularly noteworthy, what is noteworthy is that I am now the proud owner of my own pair of bright pink chopsticks which I received for my 21st birthday. It was probably one of the best presents I've ever received. Ah, the simple things in life, who'd have known one could get so excited by eating utensils?

My very own pair of Chopsticks, I will be whipping these out at Yo Sushi!

Food

Obviously, a natural deviation from chopsticks would be the food you eat with them. I have always said this and I'll say it again. I could happily live on Asian food for the rest of my life. I can assure you that I all eat here is Teriyaki Chicken. It's 'phuking' awesome. Additionally, I've had Taiwanese cuisine, copious amounts of sushi made by my wonderful Japanese flatmate Nana, Thai noodles and Chinese dumplings. I swear, I will be the size of a sumo wrestler but I will be full of happiness. God, it's so good.

Samples from the Tai-Thai dinner

'So Sad'

The origins of 'So Sad' are blurry. I believe Nana said it first and it's something that has caught like WILDFIRE. It's hard to explain but I think that describing a situation as 'so sad' is a very Asian thing to say (I don't know how to describe it, I'm just natural Asian now). I say 'So sad' all the time. ALL THE TIME. Now, I even say it to people back home. And if the situation is not sad, it's 'so cute'. Even my language is changing.

Film and Television

Okay, I was already in the foray of Japanese films with my fandom concerning Deathnote and Battle Royale. However, after watching Deathnote with Nana, I found it a better experience. And, I watched a South Korean programme called 'Running Man' with Ka Ki which seemed to be like a gameshow. I had no idea what was going on if I'm honest but it was funny.

Karaoke

I consider doing Karaoke with Asians a rite of passage towards Asianhood. I mean, how many people can say they've done karaoke with Taiwanese, South Korean, Chinese and Japanese people? Additionally, karaoke is completely different experience with Asians (and sober). For one, they're actually all pretty good at it but they also take it serious, pouring raw emotion into their singing. There's no laughing either, it's a nice environment. I have to admit that I was surprised by the quality of songs that were sang. Even Keane's 'Somewhere Only We Know' was chosen. Unfortunately, however, I have a complete inability to choose a song that is not cheesy in some way. I chose 'Mamma Mia' and sang a duet with Rocio of 'Summer Nights'... Yeah.

KARAOKE.

Music

I've left the best till last. I have always had an ecletic music taste, it's true and with my love of Eurovision being proof that music does not need to be in my own language to enjoy it, it was only natural that I would develop a love for K-Pop. However, there is one band that I nigh-obsessed with and that band is called 'Super Junior'. It's a pop group made up of about 13 boys and their songs are so good.

Not only have I spent the last few evenings attempting to learn all of their names but I have also identified my favourites, Siwon and Khuhyun. Nom is all that is left to be said.

My love began during the aforementioned karaoke session when some bright and wonderful spark chose a song called 'Sorry Sorry'. I got home and googled it and immediately fell in love. I downloaded it off iTunes and repeated it on my iPod ever since. Then, last week, I discovered another song called 'Mr Simple' which has reached number 21 on my Top 25 Most Played list already. I'm not sure whether I am to feel ashamed or proud. And tonight, I have found another song that beats all of them, A-Cha. Already downloaded. The thing about Super Junior is that the majority of them are hot, they are insanely good at dancing and the songs are completely catchy. They could be about the taste of miso soup for all I know but they're still epic songs. Another honourable K-Pop mention would be Girl Generation.

YES.

'Sorry Sorry' Dance

This obsession with K-Pop has culminated in a phenomenon known as the 'Sorry Sorry' dance. Due to prolonged exposure of the 'Sorry Sorry' video, I became automatically synchronised with the dance at the chorus. It came to a head during the gala where we performed the dance to any song that matched the beat. Good times.

So yeah, I think I have put forward a compelling (and long) argument towards becoming an accepted denizen of 'Asianhood'. Having been told by many of my friends that I am more Asian than them, I am extremely confident that my application will be accepted.

Long live Asia (and Super Junior).

I will leave with one of their videos so you can all fall in love with them, just like I have. Additionally, please be sure to look up 'Sorry Sorry' and 'Mr Simple'. And if you want more, check out 'Gee' by Girls Generation. I feel like a K-Pop master.

What has happened to me?

OhmyGodSuperExplosionsandUnicornsandRainbowswithPies.

What I am about to account has never happened to me before but it is kind of awesome. And I felt the need to tell someone (or people).

Currently, in addition to the mountain of group work and assignments I have to write for HEC, Strathclyde decided to be a nice guy and give me a literature review to complete for tomorrow as well (Such a shite guy). The lowest point was opening an example of a good review and discovering it was over 2,500 words (it may be a paltry word count to you but to me, it still induces winces and tears). So this is not going to be just a simple all-night effort then? Well, I was wrong, in more ways than one.

Firstly, we got to choose the subject we did the literature review about. I cannot emphasise enough how much better it is to be able to write about something you actually have a degree of interest in rather than writing about some bullshit theory that I don't really understand anyway. Additionally, whilst we had to get the subject of our review evaluated, the lecturer who evaluated mine not only consented but said it was an 'interesting subject'. Woohoo, nothing like some faith from the lecturer to spur you on!

So, my subject? I don't want to go into too much detail but basically it's about the impact of violent video games on violent behaviour in children and young adults and how to market video games in this type of fear-mongering environment. And I've discovered it's a hugely interesting subject. So interesting in fact that I have been reading articles for the past five hours and yet, put no words on a page. This never happens to me, ever. I never feel the need to really get into the grit of a subject. I prefer to skim on the surface (usually taking quotations from the abstract. Don't tut at me, we've all done it).

For example, the last three hours have been spent reading about the tragic Columbine School Shootings, which despite being horrific and appalling in equal measure, is also a great source of interest, not only because one of the root causes is believed to be the influence of violent video games in the perpetrators lives but also, just because in general, it is interesting. Specifically, I've been reading the reddit posts from a survivor of Columbine and whilst it has little mention of video games (ironically enough, he now works in the video games industry) it has just been too damn interesting reading his posts and viewpoints. So much so that it is now 8pm and I was supposed to be finished by now. I'm barely halfway.

Therefore, when I saw a post from my lecturer that we could ask for extensions, I have rushed an email away. Not because I have been a lazy bastard and have only started it the night before (I started a few days ago actually) but because I actually want to my literature review justice. Not only because it could prove pretty darn useful for my dissertation next year (if I'm allowed to do one for marketing, developing story, may talk about it later) but because I'm having fun.

Having fun whilst writing an assignment? What even am I?

Sugar Shack: Another Québécoise Experience...

On Friday night, Nana, Aziza, Jungyoon (who convieniently lives next door) and I went to a 'Cabane á Sucre' or a 'Sugar Shack', about an hour outside of Montréal. Believe me, calling it a sugar shack is an understatement but more of that later.

In simple terms, a sugar shack is a front for producers of maple syrup. The 'harvesting' time for maple syrup, typically tends to be between March and April and so, whilst there is still plenty of maple syrup to go around, these producers tend to open sugar shacks during this period so both Montréalers and foreign visitors such as yours truly can sample the delectable delights of a traditional and sweet Quebec meal.

We all got into the coach and made our way there. You have no idea how cool it is to be going places on a coach again. It's like I've been transported back in time to school, where school trips used to induce excitement and happiness. I love having that feeling again. Anyway, we arrived at the sugar shack just as the sun was setting and it was pretty much exactly as I had imagined it. A shack. There was nothing particularly special about it and inside was pretty much your standard log cabin decor (or what I imagine to be a pretty standard log cabin, not that I am an expert in the interior design of log cabins, that might be Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen's field of expertise more than mine).

Yes, the icicles are real!

We were shown into a room where there were large tables set out and we all settled down to enjoy this meal. The process is simply sit down and a waitress will bring you your food (and you can ask for as many helpings as you want). As we had all starved ourselves for this promised meal of majestic quality (and quantity), the bread sitting on the table looked too inviting and we all practically wolfed it down in mere seconds. Alexandre, one of the organisers, told us not to eat too much bread because we would need room for later. Obviously, Alexandre had underestimated the power of my stomach because I can not describe the level of hunger I was feeling.

The first course came out, which was a nice and gentle Pea soup to get the ball rolling. However, after one sip, something was not quite right about it. I couldn't really put my finger on it but continued to eat it anyway (refer back to previous paragraph about starvation for more clarification). It was only when I hit the bottom of the bowl that I realised that maple syrup had been added to the recipe. Now, I have a sweet tooth (obviously) but c'mon, really? After the soup was finished (and I did finish it, I am not quitter), there was a small amount of time between the soup being cleared away and the main course, we decided to have a peek at some of the condiments on offer. Now, usually, I'm not a huge fan of pickles but as the ravenous part of my personality came out to play, I decided to try one. I am not even lying when I say that the pickles were pickled in maple syrup. However, there was a lovely chutney that deserves a mention because even though that had maple syrup in it, it was good. Pickles in maple syrup however, are not acceptable.

Finally, after what had seemed like an age, the main meal came out. It was almost like an English breakfast with scrambled eggs, smoked sausage, ham, baked beans and potatoes. Except, of course, everything has maple syrup in it. I'm not even lying, if you were unaware of the fact you were diabetic, you would have definitely known after this meal. It was crazy. Even the baked beans were in maple syrup... And then pudding. Need I talk about pudding? Cake with maple syrup or Maple syrup tart? My heart was racing faster than a fat man in a cake shop (ironic really). Probably the craziest part of the meal though was when Nana discovered the odd but rather tasty combination of Pork scratchings drizzled with maple syrup (yeah, we were pretty much all having heart attacks at this point).

English breakfast or Quebec Tradition? Only one way to find out...

Once the plates were all cleared away, the table was strewn like a battlefield. Everywhere I turned, I could see defeat in all of my friend's eyes. Food had beaten us all once again. And then, some soul announced that they were serving maple syrup taffy outside on ice. Well, didn't we all just stand up and make our way outside? Yes, yes we did and I don't regret a thing.

We made our way around to the back of the cabin where there were troughs filled with snow. Then this guy poured boiled maple syrup over the snow where it cooled just enough so that it became a sort of sticky, pliable consistency, which when rolled with a lolly pop stick, could be consumed easily. Long story short, it tasted awesome. And the guy kept coming round with this jug whilst we were being educated on how maple syrup was made (I can't lie, I wasn't really concentrating). I think the worst part was that I heard someone lamenting how they had had two whilst I was popping my fourth into my mouth (no regrets).

Showing how it's done!

After a small tour of the workshop and a group photo, it was decided that we would all get back onto the bus and make our way back to Montréal.

There's two things about this experience I would like to point out. One, it is probably the only time and opportunity I will have to ever visit a sugar shack as it is very ingrained in the Quebec culture and not necessarily obvious to outsiders. Plus the fact I hope I never come back here in March or April. And two, I did not fall over at all (which is what usually happens during trips with HEChange). Hooray!

Internet Manners and Etiquette: The Social Schisms of Getting it Wrong...

Welcome to the Internet, prepare for excommunication!

I'm going to get straight to the point. The internet is a judgemental place. And the worst part is you don't even need to know the person to feel like the lowest of the low.

Of course, not everyone feels this way and that's a good thing. But there are people out there who overthink their activities on the internet. And ashamedly, I used to be one of them. I say 'used' loosely because I'm still confronted with these issues even now. I've just learned to get a grip and not take things so personally. But that can be hard.

It can be said that every comment you post, every status you like, every message you send can be over-analysed to the point of insanity. I know there are some people who genuinely don't care and I praise these people. However, in a world where we are constantly craving the acceptance of our peers whilst maintaining a sense of individuality, I know that people will confront these issues in this mind frame. And it's unhealthy. I was inspired to write this blog because I have been confronted with many of these issues before and one recently, really got me thinking.

A few days ago, a girl added me on Facebook. I did not know her personally and I have never spoken to her in my life but she is also on exchange in Montreal and because she comes from the British Isles, I decided to add her. I thought perhaps she maybe wanted to open a dialogue with me which I was happy to provide (I'm a nice person like that). Now, usually, I do not add or accept people who I do not know and because this girl did not contact me in anyway, I decided to delete her today. Yet, when I went to delete her, I found she had already deleted me. 

And yet, I'm the one who feels like an idiot. Am I oversensitive or over-thinking it? Perhaps. And I will gladly admit that I am a sensitive person and an over-thinker. But there are questions that have been raised. Why did she add me? Why did she delete me? Was she being nosey? Was she unimpressed just by looking at my profile? All these questions have been brought since this silly interaction and its genuinely ridiculous. However, the worst thing was feeling like an idiot and it actually made me feel slightly angry. Then I got over it and decided to channel it into a blog.

This made me think about other things that make people feel ostracised from the internet. Here are a few examples.

• Bad Grammar: I'm not massively critical of people who spell the occasional word wrong or get the occasional grammar rule mixed up. It happens to the best of us (like me). However, there are some people on the internet who go out of their way to persecute these people (The Dreaded Grammar Nazis). 
• Adding Friends: You know when Michael McIntyre talks about the handshake/hug thing? When one person is going to greet a person with a handshake and the other is going to greet them with a hug and they meet in the middle and its horrendous? Well, how do you know when you're ready to add someone as a friend on Facebook? And why is it so nerve-wracking waiting for the acceptance? AND WHY DO YOU BREATHE A SIGH OF RELIEF WHEN THEY ACCEPT?
• Friend Number: I know this affects a lot of people (and if it doesn't, I envy you). But then again, that's what it boils down to. Why do we measure the success of our peer's social lives on the number of Facebook Friends? Why are we so jealous if someone has more friends than us? Does it mean they have more friends than us? Are they better loved than us? Do they have better social lives than us?
• Birthdays on Facebook: When it's someone's birthday, if they didn't say 'Happy Birthday' to me, I don't say 'Happy Birthday' to them. How do I find this out? I look at our friendship page. I think this is a pretty common law in the world of Facebook.
• Instagram Hashtags: If you have twenty hashtags, you are seen as an attention-seeking weirdo. And you're automatically jealous of people who have sixty likes with one hashtag.
• Arguments: Expect to lose your argument if you spell something wrong. Even if your argument is invincible. Also, expect to lose your right to an opinion if it conflicts someone elses and a whole day lost to arguing.

There are loads more I could list. I mean, basically every action on the internet has a consequence. However, the point I'm trying to get at is that why are there are so many unspoken norms about internet etiquette? Why do we need to think about every action? 

Nowadays, I don't care. However, when I was younger, I did and I think it's horrible thing to feel ostracised at such a young age, especially from a place where everyone is supposed to be 'welcome'. The internet can be a cruel place and we need to stop the judgement and the measuring of our self worth by statistics.

Yeah, this blog was pretty pathetic, I know.

Scottish Independence: How does one decide the fate of a nation?

Today, First Minister Alex Salmond (or maybe 'not so affectionately' known as 'Big Eck') announced in parliament the date for the Scottish referendum on Independence. In 547 days, on Thursday 18th September 2014, the good citizens of our great nation will come together and decide the very future of Scotland with a single 'Yes' or 'No' question. I think it's a huge responsibility that weighs heavily on our shoulders and with the  knowledge that the whole world will be desperately awaiting the result, it really has the potential to change the face of the British Isles as we know it.

As I have mentioned before, I am a patriotic bastard (I'm actually the worst person you could ever meet). Therefore, my knee-jerk reaction is to vote a loud and resounding 'No'. Perhaps it's due to my half English, half-Scottish heritage, perhaps its due to fear, I don't know. But then, I remembered that I don't really have enough information to formulate an opinion yet. Therefore, maybe I should sheath my opinion until after I have vanquished my ignorance.

Personally, I don't think there is enough information being provided to the general public about the referendum. And it's not a simple decision either. The independence of Scotland would have such an impact on the entire running of our country, with the far-reaching consequences of our actions being felt by our descendants, the next generation of Scots. However, the lack of information is from both sides. You have one side telling you 'Independence is Bad' but not really going into detail why and vice versa with the Scottish government.

I'm concerned with the lack of transparency thus far. And I think a lot of it is to do with a complete lack of trust in our governments, both British and Scottish. The expenses fiasco, the lies, the corruption; it all feeds the public's contempt for the government. We all feel like we're not being given the full story, all of the time which is very counter-productive when attempting to make a decision like this. In short, we just don't know who is telling the truth or not.

Which is why, now that the date has been announced, I hope that this opens the floodgates to some serious debate on the subject. I don't wish to live in ignorance and I'm sure most of the Scottish population don't want to either. A series of healthy, CLEAN debates are desperately needed, which will help us all to see the benefits of becoming an independent Scotland and the disadvantages, coupled with some concrete facts which will hopefully give us a clear picture of whether Scotland is ready to become an independent nation or whether she is to remain within the UK. Then and only then, will we be able to make well-educated and rounded decisions about the fate of our nation.

However, until such a day comes where I see a strong argument for Scottish independence, my vote currently is a 'No'. And also, a strong point for the argument against independence is that the Union Jack would just look weird.

Anyway, Watch This Space!