Teenie Bopper 4lyfe

This post has been in the drafting process for about six months. It has been written and re-written several times, ditched and started again, and somewhat agonized over. "What is its topic?" I hear you cry. "What could possibly warrant such meticulous crafting and editing? Politics, perhaps? The systematic destruction of the environment? The economic crisis?"

No, my friends.

Pop music.

I've wanted to write about this for a little while, if only because whenever someone asks me about it, my answer comes out as bashful garbled nonsense, which does nothing for my cause. My cause being, in short: so I like pop music, what of it?

Here is a list of the shows I have tickets for in the next few months:
12th December -- Slow Club, Queen's Social Club, Sheffield
4th February -- Taylor Swift, O2 Arena, London
4th May -- McBusted, Motorpoint Arena, Sheffield
30th May -- One Direction, Etihad Stadium, Manchester

One of these things is not like the other. One of them is a "proper band", one I probably wouldn't mind chatting about. If I mention the others, I'm inevitably greeted with eyerolls, raised eyebrows and laughter. Yes, I'm 24 years old and I have tickets to three huge pop gigs in 2014, and guess what?

 

Bless you, queen Judy. (source)

I just don't care any more, you guys. I'm done feeling embarrassed for my musical tastes including, but not being restricted to, pop music. I like it, I enjoy it, and I'm going to tell you why.

“One thing pop music is good for is remembering that somewhere inside us is the potential for unvanquishable joy.”- John Darnielle, The Mountain Goats

I'm not even entirely sure how to categorise pop music. What's popular isn't always pop, and what's pop isn't always popular - it's a bit like 'indie', where the original name of the genre didn't actually describe the sound of the music itself, but now it kind of does, in a hard-to-grasp way. But with regards to the name, I think some of the snobbishness can be directly pulled back to the name - popular. It's a weird phenomenon, the one that seems to assume that because something is liked by a lot of people, it's somehow deligitimised. I guess everybody secretly wants to believe that their taste is above everyone else's, that they were the only ones with the discernment to favour a particular thing, while the rest of society blindly worships the mainstream - I can understand that, it's an intoxicating idea. Only the purest of art exists on the fringes; the rest is a big old mess of diminished creativity and blandness, etc.

But one of the things that makes me the happiest about pop music is the idea that it's bringing joy to thousands and thousands of people. I saw McFly on tour last year, and in October I paid to watch their 10th anniversary Royal Albert Hall concert online*, and being in a room (whether in reality, or virtually) with hundreds of giddy, dancing, singing bodies made me infinitely glad to be alive. It thrums through you, that kind of collective joy. And even alone, knowing the music I'm listening to is probably making someone else laugh, cry or riot at the same moment - that's pretty cool too.

But it's not just the abstract idea of pop music that makes me so happy. It's the bare bones of pop music. It's the ridiculously catchy melodies, the riffs, the beats that make it impossible not to dance. The hand-clapping, the doo-wopping, the cowbell. The repetition, mantra-like, of a hook, until it's burned into your brain and you're singing it over and over while you're trying to sleep. This one, I'm sure, is a matter of taste - my brain is just wired to like that stuff, to love it, and other people's might not be. But that doesn't mean my brain is less advanced or something. Silly girl only like silly song. No: woman with varied interests enjoys music that makes her happy in her very soul.

Just because something is created with a mainstream audience in mind, doesn't mean it's free from talent, conscience, passion and craft. Something that sells that well is hardly going to be complete rubbish, and dismissing it is a huge middle finger to people who work damn hard - both in front of the camera and behind the scenes - to make music that people will like.

And as for my tastes in particular, allow me to elaborate:

McFly/Busted - It's a debate I've had with several people, and I'll stick by my guns every time: A lot of the time, the only real difference between McFly and some kinds of pop punk/soft emo bands is the market they're aimed at. If you got All American Rejects to play One For The Radio, then got McFly to play Gives You Hell, you'd absolutely think they were the bands' respective songs. Both write all their own stuff, both play their own instruments, both are great, but one is marketed towards tween girls while the other is marketed towards angsty teenage boys. Except McFly have no problem being seen as a pop band - they own it, they know their army of Galaxy Defenders have made their career and they appreciate that. It's the unpretentiousness I adore; naturally, they get frustrated when people assume they don't write their own music**, but they're not mad about being seen as a pop band. They owe a lot to their pop following, and they make it very clear that they're here for the fans.

 

This video is a love letter to McFly fans and it's beautiful.

And as for the birth of the supergroup that is McBusted, I can honestly say that I haven't been this excited about a musical event since...since the last time I saw Busted, probably. I was such an enormous Busted fangirl at 13/14, and this is basically just like a dream come true. If they don't play my favourite song about failing at sex, I'm going to be gutted.

TASTE MY HAPPY. (source)

Taylor Swift - SWIFTY, my queen, my joy, my idol. And, apparently, the pop act that most people seem to have a particularly unfavourable opinion of. There are better analyses of Swifty's meteoric rise and popularity than I can offer in this space (but just get me talking about it, particularly after a few wines), but let me tell you why I love her. Swifty is my age. At 15, she wrote songs I literally could have written myself, if I'd had a modicum of talent - songs about being the bitter, unpopular girl with a crush on her jock next door neighbour (or in my case, the guy I sat next to every day) who would never notice her "like that". Song about Romeo and Juliet fantasies. Song that indulged that very particular experience of being an emotional, lovelorn, angry, romantic teenage girl. Yes, some of the things she wrote were silly and problematic, but she was also fifteen. 

Do you know how important it is for a young girl to look at someone like Taylor and think "it's okay to feel like this"? Just so important. It's bad enough being female and having your emotions disregarded, but being a emotional teenage girl - well, nobody's going to give a shit, because you're just a child, and it's puberty, and you're probably just being dramatic, etc. etc. ad infinitum.

“I think that allowing yourself to feel raw, real emotions in public is something I am never going to be afraid to do,” she said. “Hopefully that’s the case, if I can remain a real human. I’m fine with being honest with my fans about the fact that it’s okay that everything isn’t okay all the time...Those are real feelings that every single person goes through. I think that it’s okay to be mad at someone who hurt you. This isn’t about, like, the pageantry of trying to seem like nothing affects you.” - Taylor, from the article linked above.

Taylor Swift is an openly honest and emotional young female, and I fucking love that. And dammit, her songs are good. We all caught the We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together bug, and yelled along with I Knew You Were Trouble. She's a bloody good songwriter. Just listen to All Too Well (her MASTERPIECE): You call me up again just to break me like a promise // So casually cruel in the name of being honest. MY GIRL TAYLOR, you feel me.

And as for writing about her string of exes, I'll make three brief points and leave it at that, because I could go on for a while.

- As far as I can tell, Taylor has about the same number of exes as I have, a fairly normal amount for a girl my age. It just happens to be that hers are famous. And why shouldn't she date?! Anyone saying she gets around is engaging in slut-shaming, pure and simple.

- Dudes (and other women) have written album after album of songs about their exes - Maroon 5 actually going as far as to name their debut album Songs About Jane, after Adam Levine's ex. You don't hear anybody deriding them now, do you?

- If you think Taylor Swift isn't the most self-aware, astute master of her own reputation, you're entirely mistaken.

 Nicki Minaj's face, though. (source)

Little Mix - Now, I haven't mentioned Little Mix yet, mainly because they haven't announced tour dates yet, but when they do, I'm going to be first in line. Little Mix are my favourite musical artist of 2013. They're beyond talented, their 90s grunge vibe gives me life, and they're unapologetic besties who represents a pretty diverse way of being female. Both their albums have a strong contingent of songs - cowritten by the girls - about female friendships, about knowing who you are, about celebrating womanhood, and not feeling obliged to fall at the feet of every boy that pays you attention (Salute, Wings, Change Your Life, Always Be Together, We Are Who We Are, How Ya Doin? Going Nowhere, Little Me...need I go on?) and that is such a fucking important message for young females.

 

I implore you, WATCH THIS VIDEO. Talent!!

One Direction - Okay. Here it goes. I remember seeing One Direction on the X Factor a few years back, and remarking that they were a precious little box of puppies, and not much else. Obviously, they were inescapable, and my penchant for pop music meant that I enjoyed What Makes You Beautiful A LOT. Yeah, it's a bit sketchy, but at 13 I would have eaten that shit up - "He likes me because I'm shy and awkward? Oh my gaaaaaaad", etc. Then came the video for One Thing (another brilliantly catchy song), which also involved what has been termed London Porn, which is just cheating, really.

I watched a few interviews, read a little about them, and realised that they seemed like a pretty sweet, fun group of lads who sing bloody catchy songs. I never really had a 'boyband' phase when I was a kid (Busted aside), so it was almost like my 11-year-old self was yelling "YOU OWE ME THIS". And there it is. I just like them. They're fun and daft and they don't take themselves too seriously and their albums are solid and they're actually pretty damn talented. I'm not screaming at them in the street or waiting outside their houses, but I'm unashamedly being an adult human who appreciates what they're doing***. This one, inevitably, gets the most laughs, but the people who laugh at me didn't go and see the One Direction movie with three of their best friends after a couple of bottles of wine and have the best evening ever, did they now?

Also, I am just leaving this here. For science.

*****

As I've said, I can understand why my tastes don't match up with other people's - that's just a fact of life. I don't like peas, but that doesn't mean I vocally and rudely mock and attack peas, or laugh in the faces of people who do like them. Liking pop music as an adult attracts a particularly patronising kind of derision. It's tiring and I'm bored of it. The artists I mention above, among others, make music that is designed to bring joy to loads of people, me being one of them, and I think that's pretty great, actually.

*I'm just saying, this is a great idea - for limited-space concerts like that, ones that were too far away for me to manage, I could happily pay a little to watch them online, as I'm sure others would too.

**And if you think they're poor songwriters, go and listen to She Falls Asleep pt I & II, then help yourself to a big handful of wrong.

***Though don't get me STARTED on how horribly exploitative that documentary was, ugh.

Hannah reviews Who! With her voice! On the Internet!

So, I thought I'd try A Thing. A project, to get me through these cold winter months*. The following audio file should adequately explain everything, but in short: here commenceth the Hannah's Doctor Who Audio Reviews!



And, conveniently, here's episode one!



I'm very much hoping to keep going with this, though I can promise that future reviews will be shorter than 13 minutes - or I will do my level best to make them so!

*I say that, today is September 22nd and I got sunburned.

Notes from a gap year

And so, I come to the end of two years in York. Well, fuck - that's a bit mad, isn't it? I will soon be leaving for pastures new (well, Sheffield), and it's fair to say this has been an eventful couple of years. Good and bad, I've learnt phenomenal amounts (about linguistics and about myself) and had some utterly, utterly glorious times.

This year in particular has been busier than I thought possible, juggling five part-times jobs and PhD applications, but being someone who doesn't function unless they're late for five things at once, it's been bloody great. I've spent most of the year responding to "So what do you do?" with "Well, it's complicated..." -- so what have I actually been up to this year, and what am I taking away from it all? Glad you asked...

Do ALL THE JOBS!

Job #1 - Project Officer for the Temporal Co-ordination in Communication project
What? My main source of income this year, I was lucky enough to snag a research assistant job at York Uni almost immediately after graduating. Working under Dr Richard Ogden in partnership with some talented musical folk at Cambridge University, we set out to investigate whether rhythmicity in speech (and music) was shared between conversational participants, and whether this could be seen in their intonation patterns or physical gesture.
No really, what? I spent the year analysing the speech and movements of pairs of speakers as they chatted, played games, and made music. It was super rad.

Lessons learnt
- Analysing people's video-captured eyebrow movements in great detail makes you hyper-aware of eyebrow movements in real life. Related: people get uncomfortable when you stare at their eyebrows.
- If you pause a video at the right moment, any two people can look like they're in love. Or like they want to kill each other.
- Some cliches are true, and sometimes people are so posh that you literally can't understand what they're saying. One gent was talking at length about "rang" and I swear to God it took me about three minutes to figure out he was talking about "rowing".
- There is little more painful than having to watch two non-musicians try to make music for fifteen minutes.
- High quality audio recordings are a gift. The sound of a person smacking their lips or hocking up phlegm directly down your headphones is not.

Job #2 - Vowel analysis for the Scilly Voices project (University of Sheffield)
What? Dr Emma Moore is looking into language variation and change on the Isles of Scilly. I leant a hand by listening to old archive footage of Scillonians born at the turn of the century and delimiting, labelling and coding certain vowel sounds.
No really, what? I listening to charming old folks talking about island life and marked up whenever they said a vowel that rhymes with the one in 'mouth'.

Lessons learnt
- Never underestimate how long it will take to get through a 75 minute recording. (For the record, eight hours.)
- All Praat and no play makes Hannah something something. (Go crazy? DON'T MIND IF I DO! etc.)
- It's very easy to get invested in the lives of interviewees, particularly if they saved someone from drowning and/or their dad beat up the headmaster of their school for caning them. (Both the same guy!)

Job #3 - Data monkey for the Surrey Syncretism Database project
What? The University of Surrey, along with its compatriots, is compiling an online resource that gives academics access to an easily-searchable database of languages, in order to display and investigate syncretism (when a language has the same marking for different features).
No really, what? I unpacked reports about complex languages and turned them into shiny, organised spreadsheets to pop into the database.

Lessons learnt
- Kashmiri is a fucking complex language.
- Excel spreadsheets and complex language paradigms are made approximately 67% more fun when you colour code them while listening to loud pop music.
- Accidentally ctrl+Cing when you mean to ctrl+P is akin to a papercut, in that it is a minor annoyance that causes ridiculous amounts of strife.

Job #4 - copywriter/subeditor for publicservice.co.uk and defencemanagement.com
What? These guys compile public sector information journals, commissioning and creating content and distributing it. I worked here for a year between my BA and MA, and they kindly kept me on freelance.
No really, what? I write stuff, and nitpick stuff that other people write.

- Anybody who talks excitedly and with passion for their field makes for a charming interviewee, and the article subsequently writes itself.
- It's possible to get super-invested in something you had no idea you were interested in, so much so that you exceed the word count by nearly half; in my case, military medals, and how they're made and awarded.

Job #5 - copywriter/content provider for various sites, through a centralised pool of writers
What? I wrote blog posts, articles, product descriptions and suchlike for a bunch of websites.
No really, what? Seriously?

Lessons learnt
- There's only so much bullshitting one can do. And you can't bullshit your way through an article about institutional insolvency in Europe when you have less than no idea what you're writing about.
- Fluff pieces about Kate Middleton's holiday plans and the best-dressed celebrity mums are alarmingly easy to churn out, but doing so kiiiind of makes you want to kill yourself.
- Never underestimate a word count. Sometimes, 450 words can seem like thousands.

York livin'
Having lived in this glorious city for two whole years, I am obviously the foremost influence about the places to be in York. HA! No. But still, I love this city dearly, so if you ever find yourself visiting or living here, these are my recommendations.

• Go to the Minster. Yes, I know, duh, but it's easy to forget that your home plays host to one of the most staggering pieces of architecture and history in the country. Even if you're not religious, go to Evensong or the Christmas carol service - it's beautiful. If you can, explore the crypt and the tower - it's worth the money. At the very least, go inside and look up. Take a deep breath, and take in the ceilings. Incredible.
• Visit National Railway Museum. All of York's museums are great, but this is my favourite by far. Its free, for a start, and is a brilliant celebration of man-power and industrial endeavour. Huge and sprawling, it makes you feel like a child, and walking through the room full of mish-mash railway memorabilia and accessories is like a historical jumble sale. It's a fantastic museum that needs and deserves saving.
• Walk up the river, from Skeldergate bridge. Either side - down the cycle path or through Rowntree Park. Both are gorgeous.
• Cycle the solar system route, particularly if it's a sunny day. It's super easy to do because it's 99% flat, you take in some gorgeous countryside, and when you get back you can say that you CYCLED AROUND THE UNIVERSE.
• Get a huge, ridiculous ice-cream sundae from Licc. Hands down the best ice-cream I've ever had, and comes in a ridonkulous number of flavours. One time, I had a sundae that was cinder toffee, caramac and salted caramel, and it's probably the closest I've come to passing out in an eatery because the food was so good.
• Bishopthorpe Road is where it's at. The Pig and Pastry is a delightful and friendly café whose eggs royale are to die for; Pextons is a proper old hardware store which has everything you could ever need; and Millie's greengrocer is cheap and brilliant (and one time they gave me a free Milky Way). The whole street is just a lovely, mutually-supportive group of independent shops, and it's lovely.
• Go to the Mason's Arms on Fishergate, whether it's for food (their portions are huge!), drinks (lovely, cosy atmosphere and a host of ever-changing local beers), or the Wednesday quiz (SUPER fun, and free food!). The staff are impossibly lovely and kind, and the food is stellar.

Life, the Universe, and everything in it

This has been A Year. Good, bad, bonkers, awful, exciting, terrifying, all of that business and more. I learned many Important Life Lessons, and much as I might not have wanted to, I'm very glad I did.

- It is, apparently, entirely possible to simultaneously have not enough and too much to do. It's very easy to get to the point of "well, I have so much to get done that I might as well just curl up under my duvet and watch Doctor Who again".
- I have the attention span of a gnat, and I need to work on that.
- You're never too old for boybands.
- What you think is 'right person, wrong time' may actually just amount to 'wrong person, full stop'.
- I have loved living with guys, but when they start peeing with the door open, you start to need female company. I've mainly lived with girls in the past, but living my best New Girl life with four male housemates this year has been absolutely brilliant, and I wouldn't have changed it for the world.
- You can't fix people who don't want to be fixed.
- It's tough when your closest friends aren't geographically close, but that's doesn't mean you're alone.

The number of people who asked after the family before/after dad's op, and who congratulated me on getting PhD funding, was staggering. There's been times this year where I felt like I had nobody, but I was wrong. I was just focussed on the people who weren't there, rather than the ones who were. Thank you, everyone.

My time in York has been enhanced and rescued by some wonderful, wonderful friends. I'm afraid the rest of this blog post will be horrendously sappy and overemotional. But, you guys are reading this, and it's ME - what else did you expect?

THE ARCHAEOLOGISTS

I was lucky enough to be warmly welcomed by the Archaeology/Cultural Heritage Management gang last year, and they're about as lovely and fun a crowd of people you could hope to meet. I also learnt a staggering amount from them all - it's a diverse and fascinating subject, and I'm very glad they just let me sit there and ask inane questions about it for hours on end.

THE ECONOMISTS

This year's Archaeologists (i.e. the group of people who allowed me to tag along with them all year) were the Economists, who are also a properly fantastic bunch. Admittedly, I asked fewer probing questions, because the idea of Economics makes me brain bleed, but they were just as interesting regardless.

THE BISHY ROAD LADIES

Coming to York, I didn't know anybody. I luckily managed to snag a room in a house with three girls through a friend of theirs, and arranged to meet my new housemates a few weeks before. Within about four seconds I though "these are my people", and they made the transition to York a wonderful one. Fun, sweet and just as nerdy as me (if not more), I can't think of people I'd rather scream at the television with.

LINGUIST LADIES

Linguistics tends to be a female-heavy course, and the MA programmes last year felt a bit like an awesome girlband, minus the dance moves (well, most of the time). We cried on each other about dissertations, bitched about professors and danced off all the stresses of the year. Each and every one of them is a beautiful brainbox, and I'm so glad we got to chuck our hats in the air together.

ALI AND BRI

(I should note that I've already started crying by this point.)

A dreadlocked South African, bespectacled Californian and a bright-tights clad Brit walk in to a bar and order some flavoured cider. They then proceed to talk animatedly in pop-culture quotes and Internet memes while flailing their arms about and intermittently singing and dancing. They alienate the rest of the bar, but build a friendship for life. God, I miss these girls every day, but I know for certain I will see them again as frequently as the oceans allow.

MISCELLANEOUS BESTIES

Yeah, I was doing really well at categorising groups of people, until I got to this point. Friends, friends of friends, housemates of friends, friends I watched a lot of football with, friends whose weddings I happily attended, friends I did pub quizzes with, friends who marathoned tv shows with me, friends I watched on television, friends I attempted to swim in the North Sea with but quickly bailed because it was too damn cold. God, I love you all.

GRAY STREET MASSIVE

We've had lots of people in and out of the house this year, but the five of us have had a cracking time. We've enjoyed/endured Ross' eclectic music tastes, we've cared for DJ Boot in his invalid state, we've eaten A LOT of banana cake, and while two of our number are currently gracing Thailand and Belize with their presence, it's been a bloody brilliant house to live in all year.

ROSSINGTON

We found Ross on the Internet when looking for a housemate, so he could have been anything: an axe-murderer, a kleptomaniac, a Tory. But I thank my lucky stars every day that he was Ross - a hilarious, charming, caring and generous guy who honest to god lights up any room he's in. I wouldn't have got through this year without him looking out for, entertaining and challenging me. He's like my big brother - very occasionally I want to tear the Avril Lavigne singlet off his shoulders, but I wouldn't be without him for the world.

***

Right, I've cried enough writing this. On to pastures new, taking incredible friends and important experiences with me. So long, York. It's been real.

In pursuit of happiness

As some wise soul once told me, happiness is a skill. Now, anybody who knows me will probably say that I will punch you in the face with my perpetual optimism upon meeting you, and continue this metaphorical assault 97% of the time we spend together. I'm a giddy person. I get super excited when around animals*, I sometimes cry when the night sky looks particularly pretty, and I make this face with alarming frequency:

Thing is, I don't think it's easy to be happy, and I do agree that it's a skill - one I've worked at throughout my life. It goes without saying that happiness is circumstantial, and I'm lucky enough that circumstances haven't been so dire as to prevent happiness for extended periods. I also am lucky enough not to suffer from severe mental health issues, which are also naturally incredibly detrimental to pursuing happiness. But even from a pretty neutral starting ground, I've taught myself to be happy, and it's taken some effort. And, given time, effort has become habit, and habit has become a part of who I am.

I'm hoping this doesn't come across as a wanky self-help guide, because lord knows I don't have the authority or the audacity to pretend I can advise people on their lives in any way. But these are tips, I suppose. Tips that have helped me to be a bit happier in my everyday life. And I wanted to put them somewhere.

1. Take a deep breath
It's super easy, when caught in a bad situation, to freak the fuck out. In fact, you're more than entitled to do so. Heaven knows, I'm a cryer - as Kristen Bell so aptly puts it**, if I'm below a three or above a seven on the emotional scale, I'm probably in tears. And when you're crying hysterically, if someone says 'look on the bright side...', the temptation to punch them in the throat is rather intense. But listen to them: there really are good things that can come out of bad situations, and hearing them from other people not blinded by fear or rage or sadness can really help to rationalise things. Take a deep breath, and really take in the positives, the upsides. Eventually, it means you can start providing that help for yourself -- when something shitty happens, you're able to think of your own upside. Even if it's just one, one small good thing that can come from what seems, on the front of it, to be a complete crock of shite situation, it makes the whole thing less looming. Less all-consuming. There's good there somewhere; find it.

2. Say thank you
It's often the good deeds of others that make us happy, and while I imagine most of us have even the most rudimentary manners, and would thus say thank you, making the effort to do so properly is really, really uplifting. Looking someone in the eyes and saying how much you appreciate them, giving them a hug, or even just firing off an email to a company from which you've received particularly good customer service; a proper thank you makes you realise that, hey, someone did something for you. You, specifically. And it made you happy. And by saying thank you, you're most likely making them happy, too, which radiates even more happiness back to you. Win-win!

3. Find happiness triggers
Finding something that reliably makes you feel better is an absolute godsend. I have a few fail-safes: my 'pop renaissance' iTunes playlist; the BBC's adaptation of Emma from 2009; painting my nails; and pictures and footage of the aurora borealis. Like this one, which is intermittently my desktop background.

The aurora borealis over the Eyjafjallajokull volcano in Iceland, taken by Albert Jakobsson.

If you can, find something concrete that makes you happy, that lifts you inside, even a little bit. Have your happiness triggers nearby, ready to be grabbed when needed. It's almost like getting a hit - injections of happiness as and when you need them. Surrounding myself with reminders of the things and people I love (and the people who love me), allows me a quick pick-me-up when things are a bit rough.

4. Be sad
Yes, this seems rather counterproductive, but hear me out. I may be giddy and ridiculous a lot of the time, but I also get super sad. Like, eat-a-whole-Easter-egg-in-one-day sad. At first I thought the key to being happier was to not be sad, to eschew grumpiness with a firm hand. Thaaaaaat...didn't work. Instead, if I feel low, I own it. I'm a cliché. I listen to sad music and cry in the shower. I retire to my bedroom for fifteen hours of mainlining Doctor Who. I'm ridiculous. But it really helps - not only does the sadness move past much, much quicker when you allow yourself to wallow and then move on, but it's the old logic: you can't know what happiness is without feeling sadness. Happiness feels all the better afterwards, rather than just the default. Embrace your emotional range! Feel ALL THE THINGS!

5. Cut rubbishness loose
This one is simple, but a bit brutal. If anyone makes you feel less than awesome, stop spending time with them. People who exhaust you, who make you apologise for who you are and what you do, cut them out. It's really fucking liberating.

6. Enjoy things unironically
Lucky for you guys, there's an entire blog post in the offing about this ridiculous bullshit culture of ~liking things ironically~ that perpetuates at the moment. Only liking things ironically means you're somehow restricting the happiness you're allowed to feel?? That is INSANE. Like things because you like them! Don't apologise for it! This whole idea that some things can only be liked ironically - Ke$ha, The Only Way Is Essex, text speak - is a manifestation of some kind of nebulous, non-specific culture police telling you that some things have to be liked in one way and some things in another. It really is nuts.

7. Count your blessings
Remember how your gran always used to say this to you, and you'd roll your eyes? Yeah, me too. Then I actually started doing it, literally counting my blessings. Sitting down and making lists of the things that have made me happy in the past week/month/year, writing them on the whiteboard on my wall, reeling them off to myself so I remembered how fucking lucky I am. In fact, I'll do one right now:

Things that have made me happy in the last week
a. My dad being well enough after his surgery to mock me when I fainted at his bedside.
b. Getting super into a new TV show, and sending screechy emails to a friend about it.
c. Not needing my bike lights in the evenings.
d. Meeting fantastic new people this weekend, and spending more time with ones I have grown to adore over the past year.
e. Eating a fuckton of great food with the above.
f. Justin Timberlake making music again.
g. Buying a Letterman jacket with my initial on it.

One great tip I read online is to write little things that have made you happy onto small pieces of paper, and pop them into a jar. At the end of the year (or whenever you need a pick me up!), you can crack open the jar and relive the little, lovely things that made you happy months before.

Sometimes these don’t work, and everyone is different. But they’ve worked for me and, as I forget to do them a lot of the time, a list like this might be, at the very least, something for me to come back to. But, you never know, it might help someone else, too.

The Divine Comedy - In Pursuit of Happiness

*It takes a brave soul to take me to the zoo.
**This is the cutest fucking thing in the universe, seriously. KBell feels me, y'all.

Sheer, calculated silliness

On Friday night, I was lucky enough to snag a last-minute invitation to something I've always, always wanted to go to: a murder mystery party. My delightful housemate Ross was going, and there was a last minute cancellation. I'm not sure whether I'm proud or embarrassed of this, but I was able to throw together a costume in twenty minutes, and became Babs Crayfish: ex-nightclub hostess, aspiring actress, and girlfriend of an infamous gangster - complete with false beauty spot and glittery platform shoes. Along with the insatiable Oliver Steed, thespian and sleazebag (commonly known as Ross), we wandered across to our host's house (Brian Sewer, wine critic for the Times and general toff). We were joined by Charlie 'Champagne' Bunsen, aforementioned gangster boyfriend; Terence Shrimp, East-End wideboy and photographer; Tamara Fara-Bucktooth, socialite and girlfriend of the soon-to-be-deceased Lord Michael Jaggard; Mary-Jane Faithless, international pop-star and ex-girlfriend of said Lord; Martin X, American political revolutionary; and Kitty Killer, ruthless journalist and biographer.

Babs Crayfish and the insatiable Oliver Steed – and his painted nails (photo by Andrew)

We spent the evening around 80% in character, and everyone made a fantastic effort – wine flowed (a LOT of wine, if my head on Saturday was anything to go by), we had a fabulous three-course dinner, and worked our way through the evidence and dialogue provided. It was exceptionally hilarious, with some truly questionable accents (mentioning no names, Shrimp) and plenty of exaggerated gasps and vocal accusations. Having never been to this kind of thing before, I wondered how into it people would really get, and whether our natural, British uptightness would get in the way. I was absolutely blown away – everyone hurled themselves into it and milked the characters for all their worth; I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, it was a pure delight. And, triumphant host that he was, Andrew/Brian Sewer escaped unaccused and got away with murdering the Lord Jaggard – nobody suspected the stuck-up wine critic, despite his lack of alibi!

Through muggy hangovers, Ross and I spent a good deal of Saturday morning reflecting on just how fantastic an evening it was. Inhibitions were cast aside, embarrassment forgotten and everybody just went for it. It ended up being one of the best nights out we'd ever had. It was so refreshing, we remarked, for a group of us to just be so silly together for hours and hours.

It reminded me of why I love things like fancy dress parties -- it removes a lot of the pressure from social gatherings. I love spending time with people, but I'm often conscious of the way I look, act, and come across. Fancy dress and murder mystery parties remove that pressure, that weird sexualisation of events; they put everyone on an equally ridiculous playing field and make sure the night is fun and frolicksome as soon as it kicks off. It's odd, how I feel more comfortable in fancy dress than in my own clothes, but there it is. I just relish the opportunity to be silly.

This whole thing links into one of the best plot points from my favourite play/film: The History Boys. In Hector's general studies classes, his pupils learn the French subjunctive, the poems of Auden and the songs of Edith Piaf. However, they also learn the ending of Brief Encounter off by heart, and can perform a sterling rendition of When I'm Cleaning Windows. When explaining it, Hector says "it's an antidote; sheer, calculated silliness".

I love that. Taking the time off from the important stuff, the deep stuff, the grown up stuff like exams and bills and politics to just be silly. To recapture that giddy feeling of being a kid and not giving a toss what people thought, not caring about tomorrow. Putting on a silly costume, singing loudly and dancing wildly, cartwheeling in public. Particularly in a time where this exhausting 'ironic enjoyment' is depressingly prevalent, where it's only okay to enjoy certain things in a post-modern way, listing them as a 'guilty pleasure', I feel like time to be silly is necessary.

Admittedly, I am much more silly than a lot of people. I dance in public with alarming frequency and have mainly been listening to Little Mix's album on repeat in the last few weeks. But regardless, I feel like it's important to take the time to be immature again, to be silly, to not take things so seriously. Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional, etc. I know being mature is important, but it's just as important to let go. Be a bit stupid. "You're only young once, but you can be immature indefinitely" - Ogden Nash.

On that note, I bring this back to my latest silly endeavour: A Series of Escalating Dares for Comic Relief. I've had a few great suggestions for dares so far, but I still need more! Some examples, for inspiration, are below:


-- Dress as a bear and find 50 strangers to take growly, bearface pictures with you.
-- Dress as a Viking and undertake a raid of York complete with (carboard) Viking long-ship/dress as an Anglo-Saxon/Roman and defend York against all comers from the walls.
-- Treat any journey you undertake as an obstacle course.
-- Act like a cod Cold War-era spy (trenchcoat, sunglasses, shifty eyes, non-sequiturs, speaking only in code)
-- You can't speak, only sing. Operatic rules apply.
-- Spend a day speaking only in One Direction lyrics.
-- Narrate your day as if you're narrating the happenings of the Big Brother house. 
-- Go to work in your pyjamas.
-- Walk backwards. All day.
-- Travel around all day using increasingly ridiculous forms of transport: unicycle, rollerskates, hula hoop, cartwheels, etc.
-- Serenade One Direction with their own songs (obviously this would require the presence of One Direction)
-- Walk around all day in white clothing and carry pens, allowing everyone to graffiti anything they want on you/your skin, and you have to keep it on all day.
-- Dress up like a cat, possibly in your Top Cat costume, full face paint, ears etc and go and buy cat food and milk, you must meow at the person that serves you as you are being served.
-- Stand on a bench in a busy place, city centre or something, and sing "I'm a little teapot" as loud as you can, with actions of course.
-- Go to a pole dancing class dressed as a pole....completely covered in tin foil...and offer to be the pole.           

Any other suggestions? Let me know! I'll be posting the polls for people to pick their favourites soon, and then...roll on March 11th! Sheer calculated silliness: the charity edition.

End of year 2012 -- feelings and joy

So, 2012, in many ways, has been an absolute shitter. Like, the worst. 2012 can basically go and fuck itself, all told. HOWEVER, I really don't want the crappy parts of the year to be the things that stay with me, as there was a huge amount of joy too, and I'm still incredibly lucky. I learned a lot, had some brilliant adventures, and generally enthused about a lot of stuff. And so, to finish the year in the only way I know how: a sentimental blog post about the things that were great about 2012.

My family
For obvious reasons, it's been a really tough year for the Leaches. But it's important to take good things from bad situations, and if there's anything I've learnt from all this shite, it's how to properly appreciate my incredible family. I know they say you can't choose your family, but even if I could, I would absolutely pick mine again and again. They strong and smart and fun, supportive and sweet and ridiculous, and the most wonderful stone cold pack of weirdos I could ever hope to ever share my DNA with. It shouldn't take family disasters to make you realise how much your parents and siblings mean to you, but I'll take it.

Pop music
I don't have a particularly 'cool' taste in music and never have, but 2012 was the year I finally, properly said 'balls to that' and decided that I don't give a shit any more. There's a longer, more ridiculous blog post in the offing on this topic, but in short, I could not care less that I love pop music. McFly are one of my favourite bands. Call Me Maybe is one of the best songs of the year*. One Direction's album is pretty damn excellent. Stuff it all - I'm a teenie bopper for life and I care naught for judgement. (Ohhh, you just wait for my soundtrack of the year. Consider yourselves warned.)

One thing pop music is good for is remembering that somewhere inside us is the potential for unvanquishable joy." — John Darnielle

The Olympic and Paralympic Games
I didn't really have anything above normal Olympics-based excitement before it all kicked off, but as soon as I watched that magnificent, barmy showstopper of an opening ceremony I was hooked, and swept away on a tidal wave of sexy patriotism and crying over medal ceremonies. The celebration of working class Britain, the of endless dedication to a cause, of sportspeople not swathed in scandal and corruption. Wiggo's sideburns, Rutherford's fingers, Farah's Mobot and a veritable army of fierce, fantastic ladies doing themselves, their families, and the nation proud. It was a summer of staggering world achievement, Britain in the spotlight and a kind of enthusiasm and community spirit that's been in decline lately.

image source

I'm going to attempt a brief top-five Olympics highlights, but it's really just five brilliant Olympics moments off the top of my head and there are probably a million I've forgotten. But anyway:

1. PAPA LE CLOS
2. Tom Daley's medal celebration
3. Epke Zonderland's bonkers-incredible high bar routine
4. Mo Farah doing the lightning bolt, and Usain Bolt doing the Mobot
5. Obama and McKayla Maroney doing the 'not impressed' face

Also, the Olympics brought us the joys of Ryan Lochte's twitter and general existence, which I will never not find entirely hilarious. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE GARDENS.

Stoke-based epiphanies
Better explained in this waffly business here, it's been wonderful to find a kind of purpose for my academic future. I want to analyse the shit out of Stokie speakers, their accents, how their speech is entwined with their cultural history, and I want to do it forever and ever amen.

Thinking about things
As has been evidenced in a fair few ranty blog posts, this year has been one for me having feelings about things and issues and serious business stuff. Well, I always have feelings about things, but 2012 has been a year for paying attention to what people are saying and writing, learning from them and trying to take it on board, as well as trying to speak up when I feel the need. The Internet is full of informed, sensible, tolerant and smart people, and I can't even begin to list the articles which have made a difference to my opinons about a wide range of topics. I hope 2013 continues the trend of reading everything, evaluating my beliefs and opinions, and trying not to be a dick.

Colours!
It's an odd one, but those of you who know me will know I have the fashion sense of a colourblind clown, aka. ALL THE COLOURS ALL THE TIME. This has...escalated this year, and my cornea-burning fashion sense has gotten more and more ridiculous. And I love it. I honestly don't feel myself when I'm not wearing some kind of obscene colour combination. It's actually gotten to the point where excellent friends will tweet/text me when they're wearing a particularly colourful outfit and it's marvellous.

Enthusiasm
Seriously, the only thing that has got me through this monstrous year is being able to be enthusiastic about little things - a new episode of Doctor Who, a trip to the beach, a pub quiz. I'm so grateful for the fun stuff I get to do, for the opportunities I'm given, for the people I get to spend my time with. I'm a lucky bastard, all told. Thanking everyone individually would be time-consuming/self-serving/boring, so I will just go for a blanket THANK YOU to every single person in my life. I love you all. Yes, even you. And especially you.

Here's to 2013, all!

*This justification of why Call Me Maybe is the song of 2012 is absolutely brilliant. "This is what pop is for, right? A Canadian Idol refugee nobody ever heard of conquers the planet with a diabolically brilliant blast of teen lust"

Pop culture 2012

Ah, here it is - the most vacuous of my end-of-year blogs. Actucally, scratch that. New year's resolution: stop being embarrassed about being super into television and films and people and stuff! Here's a pop culture roundup of the year, featuring FEELINGS and mild objectification.

Telly of 2012
I know my tellyfeelings can often be a little rambly and ridiculous, and I've covered them already at several points throughout the year. Therefore, to shake it up a bit: TELLYFEELINGS HAIKUS.

1. The Hour

have faces ever
been so excellent? never.
shut up, i can't cope.

intrigue! sexiness!
glorious fifties fashion!
please just watch it. please.

2. The Fabulous Baker Brothers

hey herbert brothers
that is not how you sibling!
but ... keep on keepin' on

3. The Great British Bake Off

sweet middle-class folk
in a tent, with mel and sue
AND CAKE. count me in.

4. Elementary

jonny lee miller
and also lucy liu. that's
it. that's the haiku.

5. Teen Wolf

not as bad as the
name suggests. in fact, it's a
darling of a show!

yes it is about
teenage werewolves, but just give
it a try. go on.

6. The Thick of It

oh! what a gift, this
delicious coalition.
fuckety bye, show.

7. Fresh Meat

when did i begin
caring about these pissheads?
oh, found families.

8. Being Human

vampire; werewolf; ghost.
new faces, new feelings, and
long-held excellence

9. The Class

shows that are cancelled
in their prime, and so i cry:
case in fucking point

10. Me & Mrs Jones

more cancellations
this time depriving me of
robert sheehan's eyes!!

Oh god, this is the worst method of recommending TV shows. But seriously, these were all fab, and you should watch them if you get the chance. Highly commended: Parks and Recreation, Horrible Histories, Cougar Town, New Girl, 30 Rock (It got good again you guys!), Modern Family, The Mindy Project, Rev.

TV moment of  2012
WORLD WAR II BOYBAND PILOTS aka, Horrible Histories do a brilliant song about RAF pilots and I expire a little.



Gentlefolk of 2012

L-R, by row: Tom and Henry Herbert, Dylan O'Brien, Ben Willbond, Ben Whishaw, Jonny Lee Miller
Bobby Hicks, Jean Dujardin, That Boyband (don't look at me)
Will Featherstone, Andrew Gower, Mat Baynton, Larry Rickard

(well now, 2012 was a handsome year, wasn't it?)

Gentlefolk of 2012: the Olympics Boyfriends edition

Greg Rutherford, Marcel Nguyen, Jonathan and Alastair Brownlee, Jason Kenny, Louis Smith
Pierre Yves Beny, Michael Jamieson, Fabien Hambuchen, Epke Zonderland, Tom Daley
(medals are sexy, okay?)

Lady heroes of 2012

Amy Poehler -- I just love bossy women. I could be around them all day. To me, bossy is not a pejorative term at all. It means somebody’s passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn’t mind leading, like, “All right, everybody, now we go over here. All right, now this happens.”

Lucy Liu -- It feels really good to be always breaking down walls and starting something new and trying something new. You never know – it’s hit and miss. It’s nice to be able to portray an Asian-American on camera without having an accent, or without having to be spoofy. And I think that’s a big step forward, because there are still representations of people that are more comedic. And that’s not what I’m playing. I’m just playing somebody who represents anyone else who would be living in America or outside of it, who is just a regular person. 

Charlene Kaye -- Okay, no quote here because I can't find one, but everyone in the world should purchase Charlene's album, Animal Love, as it's absolutely stellar. I saw her live this year and it was practically a religious experience. 

Emma Stone -- You're only human. You live once and life is wonderful so eat the damn red velvet cupcake.

Mindy Kaling -- I’m the kind of person who would rather get my hopes up really high and watch them get dashed to pieces than wisely keep my expectations at bay and hope they are exceeded. This quality has made me a needy and theatrical friend, but has given me a spectacularly dramatic emotional life.

Zooey Deschanel -- I’m just being myself. There is not an ounce of me that believes any of that crap that they say. We can’t be feminine and be feminists and be successful? I want to be a fucking feminist and wear a fucking Peter Pan collar. So fucking what?

Emma Pallant -- Again, no quote here. I just wish I could show everyone her Seven Ages of Man speech. Because SERIOUSLY. 

Romola Garai -- I am passionate. I’m passionate about everything - people, art, politics, life in general. People find passion embarrassing. It’s more acceptable, generally, to be amusing.

*Fun fact! This is not the first time I've used my 'haikus' tag. I am so sorry that this is a blog you guys read.

#BOOM

I am very sorry in advance for the tone of this post, which will be quite shamelessly giddy and slightly bragging, but please do allow me this little immodesty.

MA Linguistics, with Distinction

WELL THAT'S A BIT EXCITING.

Having had a weekful of sleepless nights and anxiety attacks waiting for my results to come out*, we were finally told our dissertation results on Friday. I was shaking like a leaf logging into e:vision, and promptly burst into tears upon finding out I'd managed to get the Distinction I was so, so hoping for.

Basically my reaction. For reals.

My dissertation was a little bit of a risk; there was little background, and the phenomenon I was investigating was entirely unattested. And thank the sun, moon, stars and cosmos it all worked out. This is so far beyond anything I could have imagined that I still haven't quite been able to process it.

So, yeah, I'm basically over the moon! This year has been both the best and worst of my life in parts, and I'm just so happy to have something to show for it, something I'm immensely proud of. And, of course, I am incredibly grateful for everybody who helped me stay sane; friends, teachers, counsellors, and my amazing family.

And now comes the next step; PhD applications are in the offing, and I'm presenting my dissertation at the Manchester Salford New Researchers Forum in Linguistics in a couple of weeks, my first conference. Both terrifying prospects, but incredibly exciting, and I feel so lucky to be where I am right now.

Onwards!

*Remember Little Miss Academic Insecurity? Yeah, this time of year is where that kicks into overdrive and starts to affect me physically as well as mentally. Fun times!

Linguistic smack talk: it's a thing.

This is going to make sense to approximately nobody, but I needed to document the GLORIOUS SASS of the linguistics article I am currently reading.

Basically, in 1989, a bunch of linguists discussed and voted on revisions to the International Phonetic Alphabet, and as such some new symbols were added, while some existing ones were changed, and others dispensed with entirely.

Geoffrey Pullum, prominent linguist and scholar, had some stuff to say about these revisions, and - boy - is he not one to mince his words. He wrote a piece* for the Journal of the International Phonetic Association expressing just what he thought about the proposals, and (indirectly) those who supported/rejected them.

He starts by telling us how his article will be laid out:

'Following two standard practices that are in fact objected to on phonetic grounds by many phoneticians, I will organise these notes by pretending that there are such things as clearly identifiable segments, and that among these segments there is a clear distinction between consonants and vowels.'

People who believe in the tangible segmentation of speech sounds? What imbeciles! God, I love that this dig is so unnecessary, and SO sassy. 'Let's just pretend for a second, in some crazy, imaginary world, that the ideas of 'consonant' and 'vowel' even exist. Come on, kids, let's play. LET'S MAKE BELIEVE.'

'It is unfortunate for the IPA to have had to introduce no fewer than eight new letter shapes for a set of sounds that are so rare ... But it is done.'

I am sobbing, this guy is the best. 'You guys just do whatever, see if I care. I mean, your idea is STUPID, but whatever, it's your funeral.'

'A long-standing movement to introduce a symbol for a (fully) open central vowel (a turned small capital A is the symbol of choice for this faction) raised its head once more again and was defeated once again. Students of the deja vu will be amused to note that the first known move  to get an open central vowel ordained was in 1907.'

Students of the deja vu! I honestly could not love him more. Also of note: the sassy use of the term 'faction' for the pro-open-central-vowel types, which for some reason makes me think of an underground sect holding hands and chanting 'aaaaaaa'**

'The [ɶ] symbol for Cardinal 12 survived - the unusable in pursuit of the unspeakable, as Oscar Wilde might have said, since Cardinal 12 is an unpronounceable contradiction in terms with jaws fully open and lips rounded. Perhaps one day it can be acoustically synthesised so we can hear it uttered as nature never intended.'

STOP IT, I CANNOT HANDLE HOW GLORIOUSLY BITCHY YOU ARE. Invoking Oscar Wilde! Imagining hypothetical futures to prove your point! Messing with common idioms to add extra sass! I think I love you.

The end of the article is too long to quote in its entirety, but it's a brilliant and oddly heart-wrenching few paragraphs that compares the debates between phoneticians about various symbol usage with the fall of the Berlin Wall. I shit you not. It is, like I said, actually really lovely, and suggests that while huge political conflicts can be overcome, such silly bickering about the use of the letter [j] in American vs. IPA graphic representation of sound should easily be dispensed with.

But, at the same time, it is comparing debate in linguistics to the fall of the Berlin wall, so.

I have to stress that I have no strong feelings for or against Pullum's opinions - this isn't a vehicle for mocking his ideas, it's just a celebration of the cattiest, most entertaining scholarly article I have probably ever had the joy of reading in my brief career as an academic. Four for you, Geoff Pullum - you go, Geoff Pullum.

*Pullum, G. (1990) Remarks on the 1989 Revision of the International Phonetic Alphabet. Journal of the International Phonetic Association 20, 33-40.
**I would have used the symbol for a fully open central vowel here, but - quelle horreur! - there isn't one! Oh, I amuse myself.

Hannah's Ciderama - Winter 2011

I'm not a huge fan of most alcohol. My preferred tipple is 'alcohol that doesn't really taste like alcohol' - cocktails usually do the job, but are expensive, and thus rarely imbibed, and while Emma is doing a valiant job to make me like wine, it occasionally still makes me do this face.

However, cider is my very best friend. Bloody love the stuff, and will embrace any opportunity to try the ever-growing number of weird and wonderful varieties that seem to be quite popular du jour. This winter in particular seems to be The Winter of Cider Makers Putting Crazy Shit in Their Produce (or something much catchier), and there have been SO MANY delicious varieties to pour into my face. And that I did!

Why is this not a year-round beverage? It should be.

I first thought of doing a wee written review of each cider, but thought that would be far too dull. My decision: to review them all in HAIKU. God I bet you're glad you read this ridiculous blog, right?

Kopparberg cranberry and cinnamon
Cranberry tartness:
A perfect compliment to
The cinnamon warmth.

Rekorderlig vanilla and cinnamon
Served warm - delicious,
If a little sweet for some
(It smelt awesome, too).

Magners spiced apple and rhubarb
This is not toward.
I asked for rhubarb, and was
Thwarted. Not impressed.

German apple wine (Manchester Christmas markets)
Apple wine? Get out.
You are not cider, so stop
Pretending to be.

Mulled cider (The Old White Swan, York)
Sticky and scrummy.
Like hot apple treacle. Scrum-
-diddly-umptious*.

Hannah's shit version of mulled cider
Warm pan, add cider,
Cinnamon and brown sugar
(Not recommended).

Family-made mulled cider
While not the nicest,
Made at home with loved ones, it
Was untoppable.

*The syllable structure of 'scrumdiddlyumptious' is contestable, I concede, but I make the rules, so nyah.