#i think someone forgot to share with Renaissance the truth facts about what was really going on on that day huh?👀👀

[idio-cies]

Jatp- Perfect Harmony Dissection

Holy Moly this show has taken me by surprise in the best possible way.

I forgot how good Kenny Ortega is... and omg the dynamics in this show are just *chefs kiss* anyway that’s for another post

All of these songs left an impression with me, but Perfect Harmony just got the cogs working in my brain so I wanted to dissect it because I can’t stop thinking about it.

This will be long but I hope people will bear with me.

I found out that Madison and Charlie wrote this one together for the show, so that’s cool. So, even if this is Julie’s fantasy/daydream, it objectively also has “Luke’s” input as well, considering Madison and Charlie were writing with the characters in mind.

The lead up to this song is Julie realising she is falling for Luke, and has Luke on the brain, so she slips up with calling Nick, Luke yadayada significant to say her crush has changed as well blah blah blah.

I first thought it was strange that they are all in black? They weren’t performing for anyone other than for merit. However Black is of course associated with death, mystery etc, but in this context ,with them being “fancy” it deems them as more elegant than anything. I like using this site for colour reference. Please make of it what you will, but I’m sticking with classy and mysterious with this performance.

Then I noticed how Julie and Nick are the centre of attention, plus Nick and Julie seem to improvise? They aren’t doing as the others are. Whether they are meant to or not. I think this is meant to draw parallels, with Nick sliding on the floor and Luke tumbling, then also the lift, how here it’s short and sweet, yet with Julie and Luke there are two and the second is drawn out and more meaningful etc.

I think she must be dancing normally in reality throughout this, but I’ll come back to that later.

So let’s get into this song.

“Step into my world”- I find this interesting because Luke is the one stepping over into hers, but also this is like some “in-between” that they're in;  significant of the Limbo that the guys are currently stuck in and also the fact that Julie is the bridge. The world is probably metaphorical for music as Luke helps re-establish it in Julie and is also the guy where music is his whole world, as he lets all of his emotions out and connects with people. It’s a running theme being called up again. However, you cannot deny the possible connotation of Julie potentially stepping over with them. It’s also ironic as Luke “steps” into Julie’s world “I’m sorry we came into your life” - Luke, ep 1, and literally steps over here.

“Bittersweet love story about a girl”- undeniable. Their story is bittersweet. Impossible to be together; yet have a connection that runs so deep.

But now we see the scenery, and it’s all monochrome and the candles just scream romance, but also to me, of serenity.

I mean even the dancefloor reflects to make it look as if they are dancing on water or in an in between world. The reason why I point out monochrome gives the intention of “black and white” there is a lack of complexity, it is clear about how true their bond is, and to them it isn’t complex. Also I can’t help but think of yin and yang which can also be included here as they balance each other out. Julie yin, Luke yang. This is ironic considering Julie is always symbolised with light and Luke the contrast with a dark and being, you know, dead.

I also came across a gifset of the parallels to dirty dancing that Perfect Harmony dance had, and again, the colours are flipped with the pair which is just... interesting in this instance.

“Shook me to the core  “Voice like an angel, never heard before”- pretty simple, Luke has always been amazed with Julie’s talent, plus a metaphor commonly attached to Julie, being called an angel. He is also calling her unique. Passage of touch.

But then we get the touch. So I think this whole hand passage thing is reflected in the time they tried to hold hands, then the last time and they could then touch. In this instance though it’s like Julie is the one being resurrected. Again, this could be another metaphor of his hand in helping her find her music again, but you cannot overlook the other implications.

So here is where they dance. I am no dance expert, but dance does have it’s own language that I think everyone can interpret, but I will try my best to explain. I also think “harmony” can be a way to express dance partners as well.

“Here in front of me”- I do think this is in reference being able to touch them, but the drawing up to her hands is so interesting because of the eye contact and draw. It’s more intimate.

Then they go into something similar to what the routine is meant to be in reality, but instead they make it like a pulse on the line “they’re shining so much brighter”

I point out a pulse because it’s “living” and it just juxtaposes with who Julie is talking about; the guys.

A twirl and lift on “than I have ever seen”- This is Julie talking about the guys. Ray calls them angels and then at the end of season they literally freaking glow so... (also pronoun change to collective when Julie starts singing)

“Life can be so mean”- ep 8, after Luke told him their demise would be one of three ways, Julie was going to be hurt all over again. Julie and Flynn had an understanding that the world was being cruel when they were discussing it. Also I just feel their dance here is like they are interpreting a rough ride/rollercoaster. They swing arms then tuck and twist.

“But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave”- Luke will be in her heart, like she found with her Mum. She did let them go, and she understands she will have to do that, but they will live on in her heart.

Also hand over heart, as she “falls” into him and he doesn’t let her fall. That’s just cute.

“The truth is finally breaking through”- either their feelings or just what will be revealed to us. Though they are parted and Luke does the spinning on the ground so I expect a pitfall somewhere along the way (probs Caleb)

But he rolls right back to her

“Two worlds collide when I’m with you”- Well, the fact that they are the living and the dead.. so. Plus in-between. Don’t know how to interpret the dance here, I just like the swishy steps

“A voice is rising so, so high”- how Julie comes out of her shell. Also can’t help but link to the angel motif. Plus, Julie is lifted up, she is the catalyst, she is rising up in fame really. Luke is one of the people who helps her soar as well.

“We come to life, when we’re in perfect harmony”- Julie always being told she looks “alive again” when she’s doing music again.  Music and playing with Julie is what makes Luke and the guys feel alive. I gotta say, Charlie and Madison do exhibit some good harmonising.

The lift that happened is like the improv that Nick and Julie do, but then Luke and Julie here make eye contact as she comes down again, but goes back to similar to the dance she is meant to be doing. Until she reaches up on the line “We say we’re friends”, he also helps lift them up.

“We play pretend”. I mean, they kinda do. Luke tries to pass off his feelings with the guys, but that boy is WHIPPED.

“You’re more to me”- right off the bat, I like it. Arms out and a hug. YES. Also just look at that bliss on her face, bless her.

“We create” well yes they create “the perfect harmony”

The cut off is abrupt as Julie snaps back to reality. Then she looks in the mirror and realises Luke isn’t there and that she must’ve gone insane. This is what gets me. I think this is the moment that she realises that her feelings for Luke are deeper than she realised and I think she truly thought that they may have been dancing together in the end.

Is this just an extremely vivid daydream, because she had one of these when she mentally performed “I got the Music” and she must’ve done something during that time as she took someone’s drumsticks during her little renaissance. So what happened in real life? Did she just dance around a little, humming a bop? I just... I imagine that this is just a very lucid daydream, which is fair enough, relatable, but it just interacts so much with real life rather than actually just being all in her head. I just find it interesting.

The full version has some lines that I also want to point out. In the second verse there are these lines:

”You set me free”- Luke sings this line which can mean that she will set his soul free- she is a part of his “unfinished business”

“You and me together is more than chemistry”- Julie sings this line. We know that chemistry was pointed out by Alex and Reggie to Luke, and I believe Flynn also says about them being an appealing pair when performing. But they are more than chemistry. I mean they do work well together and they care about each other deeply, but I also can’t help but think of the “signs” her mother was giving her, and believing that the guys were sent to her.

“Love me as I am, I’ll hold your music here inside of my hands”- This is sung by both of them. They already do this, but holding their music in each other’s hand is interesting. I guess this is saying about trust and that they will do it together. I also think this relates to being able to finally hold hands. It’s like the saying “Whatever’s mine is yours”. They share pain, they share lyrics, their passion for music etc.

Then in the bridge we have the lines “I feel your rhythm in my heart”- I have a feeling that they are in sync with each other, they can immediately click and tune in with a melody. It’s also ironic as Luke doesn’t have a heart.

“You are my brightest burning star”- Luke sings this line. It makes sense. As I have said previously, Julie is this beacon of light, Luke clearly is in awe of her and inspires him. He also straight up calls her a star in ep 9 as well

“I never knew a love so real”- oh man, the irony. Their connection is pure and true, it’s just so annoying that he’s a ghost

“We’re heaven on earth, melody and words”- again with the metaphor of the middle ground where I suppose Julie sits. I understand the idiom and the bliss that they feel, and the connection they have and share with people. It’s just interesting as at the moment earth is currently Luke and the guys’ afterlife.

Anyway, that has been my dissection of Perfect Harmony. Thanks for reading if you’ve gotten this far 😅

PS. the lack of visual aids is because Tumblr hates me, I apologise

[solest]

I don’t know what happened but I wrote something again. Just thought about Crowley and Aziraphale remembering the influence they had on some artists in the renaissance (well, actually it’s most about Aziraphale’s influence on a certain work of Michelangelo). Thanks to folks in the /r GO discord server for helping me out at some point and a big thanks to @seraph5​ for letting me using the bit about Crowley and the statue at the end (it was her idea while I babbled on about this) and for always reading the shit I write XD.

It is 4 am right now and I’m not a native englishspeaker, so I bet there are some mistakes along the way

Here you go:

It was a lovely afternoon for a visit of the museum. The weather was not so much for a walk in the park, so this was a nice way to get out on a little date and reminisce about things one or both of them had a hand in.

Today there was an exhibition about the art of the Renaissance and both, Aziraphale and Crowley remembered one or two things about a lot of it.

Aziraphale came to a halt in front of a prototype of a pietá that was accompanied by a photoset of Michelangelo’s work. The smallish statue showed the depiction of Mary, holding the dead Jesus in her arms. On the right side of Mary’s feet you could see the rest of something that looked suspiciously like a little cherub looking creature but the head was missing and only one wing was still intact.

Crowley stopped when Aziraphale did and eyed him from the side, seeing the fond expression forming on the angel’s face.

“You were involved in this too?”

Aziraphale didn’t look at him when he answered, his gaze still on the statuette. “Ah, I guess you could say that. I just encouraged him to do what he wanted to anyways.”

“That’s a cupid there, isn’t it? And I always thought that Mary looked quite young and not very - you know- motherly.”

Aziraphale chuckled and turned to Crowley, still a smile on his face. “You’re right. But like I said, I only encouraged him. I remember visiting him on a particular evening when he was in one of his foul moods. He wasn’t very happy about me laying eyes on this draft, given that I was just presenting myself as someone from the clerical staff and all…”

He was interrupted by a snort from the demon and Aziraphale frowned at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“One of his foul moods. As far as I remember, he was a walking mood swing. No fun at all.”

“Not everyone could be as flashy as Leonardo. And you know,” Aziraphale raised one eyebrow at the demon, “I guess I have a thing for moody people, my dear.”

Crowley opened his mouth to tell him that he wasn’t moody at all, but Aziraphale turned back to the exhibit and just offered, a smidge smugly “you want to hear the story or not?”

Well, Crowley was curious by nature, so he just let that pass (for now) and Aziraphale remembered.

  Michelangelo’s Workshop 1497, Rome

“Oh, what’s that? Is this a draft for Cardinal Jean Bilhères de Lagraulas’s commission? You were quite fast with that my friend”

Aziraphale wanted to take a closer look at the statue on the work bench, but the young artist took a step to block out the view.

“It’s only draft, as you say. It’s not ready to be inspected yet”. Michelangelo’s voice was strained, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if this came from his already not so good mood or the fact that he had seen the unfinished statue. In most cases, it wasn’t much of a problem for Michelangelo to show his progress to the friendly priest, he actually shared them quite readily with him. So it must have been something about the statue itself that made him so nervous.

“You know that you don’t have to hide anything from me, dear boy. I won’t say anything about it if you don’t want to hear my opinion, I swear.” Aziraphale tried to give this a bit more weight with a reassuring smile.

Michelangelo scrunched up his face at that but more in a thinking manner than distaste, the marble dust on his face giving him deeper lines than a young man in his mid-twenties should have.

Aziraphale waited, knowing the process behind the artists thinking now for a while and was rewarded with a deep sigh, followed by a “All right, but no word to anybody Aziraphale! Swear it!”

 Well, it must have been something really important if he was asked to do that, but he did it to ease his companions mind. “I swear by everything that’s holy to me. Enough for you?”

Michelangelo nodded and stepped aside, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to watch his work closely. It was a depiction of Mary, holding the dying Jesus in her arms tenderly, quite more so than he had seen on other depictions of that particular scene. The details were breathtaking as always, even though this was only a mere draft for the project; Michelangelo was a perfectionist after all. Mary’s face was fair and young, showing a delicate sadness.

It wasn’t uncommon to interpret the holy mother as young and fair, but something about this one seemed to be a different. The way she was holding the body, draped over her lap had an intimacy to it that was not meant for a mother and her son. Aziraphale’s noticed something on the right side of Mary’s feet and his eyes widened as he realized it was a little cupid, a sign for lovers.

Michelangelo watched Aziraphale closely, wringing his hands nervously and waiting for the priest to say something. “That’s gorgeous, as always, but…I assume that this is not the mother of Christ you’re showing here. It’s Mary Magdalene, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale was saying this just matter of fact way, no judgment or anything suspicious in his voice. Why should he be, he had known that woman, quite a nice young lady. Michelangelo seemed to be in a mix of relived and confused, still tense and brows furrowed.

“Y…yes… I know it’s blasphemous to do such a thing, I won’t do it for the actual statue but…I heard things, Aziraphale, back in Florence, and I just can’t make them unheard!” he nearly whispered this, like he was concerned to get caught at something forbidden. Well, it actually was, for the humans at the Vatican anyways.

Aziraphale had heard about that too, the thesis that Jesus had actually loved and married Mary Magdalene, which would have made him more of a human and less of the holy son of God, untouchable and above the human desires. The angel sighed at the thought of that and smiled fondly at his young friend, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to fear anything Michelangelo; I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’ve heard that too and who said that there’s no truth in that? Well, beside the pope and all, but as a scholar I have to say that rumors always hold a spark of truth within”.

He knew that terrible things had happened to people with that mindset, so he tried to sooth the young man as good as possible.

Michelangelo’s eyes grew wide as moons, hearing that from an actual priest of the Vatican and he grabbed Aziraphale’s other hand in both of his. “You did? Oh tell me, tell me what you’ve read!”

Aziraphale was a bit startled by that outburst but he was relieved that the young man was just showing unbound curiosity now instead of that dreadful anxiety and bad mood.

He suggested to sit down and have drink, while Aziraphale told him about the son of god and Magdalene as if he had read about it somewhere.

He remembered them talking intensely, sitting close to each other and growing closer and closer over the time they spend together. Never once Magdalene forgot who that young man from Nazareth was, but Aziraphale could tell that there was something more. He remembered one conversation with her on a brief meeting, talking about love. She simply said that Jesus loved everybody equally, but Aziraphale could tell from those stolen glances between the two and the waves of a more personal love that he felt that time. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but in the far back of his mind a small voice was telling him, that he sported some similar glances whenever meeting a certain demon.

Michelangelo hung on his lips while he spun that tail, not saying anything to interrupt the priest, which was very unlikely for him. Eventually Aziraphale came to an end.

 “And you know, in the end there was something greater than them, I think they both knew. You can’t be selfish when you’re the messiah and all; he had a destiny to fulfill, and she knew that too.” He looked up from his cup, still having all of Michelangelo’s focus on him who had absorbed every word.

Silence fell over them for a moment before the young man spoke again. “That…that sounds very romantic _actually. Where have you read that again?” _

Aziraphale looked back into his cup, trying to come up with something. “Oh a very old scroll. I don’t think that it’s still in the library, something scandalous like this and all. But I hope that this ensures you that your secret is well kept. I wouldn’t recommend the cupid on the actual commission though”

He grinned and Michelangelo answered it with one of his own. After that evening they became actual friends; the young man was always eager to see Aziraphale and complain about that damn bastard da Vinci or he showed him his sketches and drafts. Sometimes he seemed to blush and at one occasion he even asked if he could sketch Aziraphale. But as it always were with the fleeting live of humans and Aziraphale’s duty as an Angel he couldn’t keep that friendship up for too long and they paths separated eventually.

 Back to London, present day.

Crowley actually listened to all of this without interrupting. It was quite a nice little story and he remembered his days with Leonardo vividly, also his complaints about this youngsters who behaved like he was walking around with a stick in his arse.

They kept on walking after Aziraphale had finished, when another presumably work of Michelangelo let Crowley stop this time. It was an unfinished statue, not too big but out of the white carrara marble as all the other serious works. Crowley knew why he was drawn to it when he took a better look, growing a grin on his face that showed more teeth than necessary. “I think you left quite the expression, Angel.”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and looked at Crowley, quite confused. “What do you mean? We were good friends I…oh…oh no”

He looked at not quite finished statue of a man that could be some depiction of a saint or an antique figure from roman mythology for how he was shown, but Aziraphale was staring back at his own face, adorned with a soft smile, a scroll in hand and draped in a tunic.

“Well…that is a bit embarrassing. He sketched me once, but I thought that was just for a study and he never told me that he was actually doing, well, this.”

  Crowley just laughed at this, thinking of Michelangelo looking longingly at Aziraphale while the angel was oblivious. Well, Crowley got the Mona Lisa so why not an unnamed statue for his angel.

Aziraphale looked at the statue of himself a last time, smiling fondly and moved on then. Crowley just stayed a moment longer, taking in all the details and the love that must have been involved in the process of making this. The artist must have had quite the crush back then. Crowley laughed to himself, muttering a “Me too Michelangelo, me too…” before catching up to Aziraphale.

They stayed in the museum for a little longer, even holding hands at some point and on their way to the Bentley.

Shortly before they reached the car Crowley stopped.

“Ah…I know it was much later, but do you remember Bernini, angel?”

“I do. What are you up to Crowley…?”

“You do know the Statue ‘ecstasy of Saint Teresa’? I may have drunken a bit too much with the guy responsible and I may have told him a little story about you and the good old Teresa…”

He grinned again, all teeth, while Aziraphale was going through pictures of statues in his mind. He watched in delight as the angel found what he mentioned and looked up at him in a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Crowley! I told you about that in private and it was a very awkward situation. I never looked like…like that while doing it!”

Crowley opened the door on the passenger side for Aziraphale while laughing and they kept on arguing about this all the way back to the bookshop. He had not forgotten that commentary about the mood swings.

[btsybrkr]

Here’s A List Of Things I Hate

I've reached something of a mental block recently when it comes to writing. I think it's because, despite sometimes coming off like I'm mocking things or just being a general smart-arse, I usually write about things I genuinely love. I love The Apprentice. I love Come Dine With Me. I love the idea that the Saturday night schedule, currently occupied on ITV1 by The Masked Singer - a horrifying cross between The Voice and a recurring nightmare I had between the ages of 6 and 8 - might one day be livened up by a post-apocalyptic The X Factor-style talent show in which we choose the next Prime Minister from a roster of Average Joe’s that just feel like giving it a bash.

I usually have lots to say about things I love, but recently, for some reason, I’m struggling to even think of anything that I love enough to write about. Maybe I’m being dragged down by the fact that this January alone seemed to last three long months, or perhaps because January itself included ‘Blue Monday’, the so-called ‘most miserable day of the year’. Maybe it's neither of things, maybe I’m just suffering from a bad case of The Realisation That We And Everything That We Do Are All, In The End, Meaningless, And That Every Day, We Are Collectively Hurtling Closer And Closer Towards The Endless Void And There Is Nothing That Any Of Us Can Do To Stop It. There's probably a snappier name for that, but you know what I mean. In any case, I’m just finding it much easier to think about things I hate recently.

Anyway, what do we do with these feelings of negativity to get rid of them once and for all? We express them. So, for anyone willing to read it, here’s a list of things I hate.

Stephen Mulhern

ITV mainstay Stephen Mulhern arguably belongs on television - not for any positive reason, just because it’s only the barrier of television between him and the viewer that allows him to appear as a cheerful friendly presence, rather than an insufferable know-it-all prick, whose repeated condescending glances to the camera during interviews with rejected Britain’s Got Talent contestants just wouldn’t fly in real life. I mean, really, imagine you were having a conversation with someone, and they reacted to something you said by looking off into the distance, à la Fleabag, with an expression that quite clearly reads “This person is an idiot!! Laugh, everyone!! Laugh at the idiot!!” You know what, Stephen? You’re the idiot. But I won’t laugh at you, because then you might think that you’re funny, and I’m just not having that.

Coleslaw

I saw a tweet years ago that said “what was the first person to milk a cow thinking?”, and honestly, it raises a very good question. I can only imagine that there was some perverted ulterior motives at play, for someone to not only milk the cow’s udders in the first place, but then to drink it, at a time when that just wasn’t done. They must have been a pretty nefarious character, it almost doesn’t bear thinking about. Instead, I’d like to question the motives of the even dodgier character who first looked at grated carrots, cabbage and onions, and thought ‘You know what might really tie these bland individual tastes together? Mayonnaise. A fuckload of it.’

You know what, though? It's not the existence of coleslaw that confuses me the most about it - it's the popularity of it. It has pride of place on the table at every family buffet, it’s disappointingly included in otherwise-appealing wraps in the Boots meal deal fridge, and it's an option on the menu in a shocking majority of takeaways, despite the fact that nobody has ever emerged, staggering and bleary-eyed from Walkabout at 3:30am and thought ‘I could absolutely murder some coleslaw’. Most annoying of all is the way some restaurants chuck a bit of paprika in the mix and use it as an excuse to rename it ‘POW POW GROOVY SLAW’, or something equally ridiculous. Why are we trying to sex up a bowl of vegetables covered in mayonnaise? I can't think of anything less sexy, and I don't particularly want to try.

Let's face it, coleslaw has long overstayed its welcome. It's the last stubborn hanger-on from the pages of stomach-churning 1970s dinner party cookbooks (probably found somewhere between the recipes for spinach and tuna pie and a boiled, unglazed joint of ham suspended in gelatine), and it's time we admitted that and stage a renaissance for the real king of the veg/mayo combo. Rise, Sir Potato Salad - your rule has begun.

Facebook

I recently deleted Facebook off my phone, and immediately noticed an improvement in the overall quality of my life. I promise I don’t mean this in the typical ‘phone bad, book good’ way that fake-’woke’ holier-than-thou characters preach about (usually on Facebook itself, ironically). I still happily waste away hours of my life on Twitter, and Instagram, the latter of which arguably has the most negative influence on my brain out of all the social networks. The thing with Facebook is that it doesn’t necessarily have a negative influence on my brain, so much as it has no influence on any part of me whatsoever. Facebook is a vacuum. It's completely, entirely pointless. In fact, it’s where ‘point’ itself goes to die.

Considering there’s probably no two Facebook users out there with the exact same friends list, I'm willing to bet that everybody’s News Feed looks eerily similar. Every scroll through is the same - a former workmate announcing a pregnancy, someone you forgot about from school sharing a vague, ‘deep’ quote about their hurt feelings, an elderly relative you didn't realise was racist until literally right now, when they began sharing posts from a page eloquently titled ‘MUSLIMS!! it is TIME to go HOME so we can have BRITAIN BACK’, or something along those lines. If you ever have nothing better to do - although, I'm sure there is always something, anything, better to do - just set a timer, open up Facebook, and see how long it takes before you come across a single thing that genuinely resonates with you in any positive way at all. I just redownloaded Facebook to try it for myself, and it took me 46 minutes.

Sound like a lie? Well, to be fair, it is. But there's more truth in that than almost anything you'll see on Facebook.

Those Slush Puppy Straws With Tiny Spoons On The End

Plastic straws are on their way out, and quite rightly. The Sea Turtle Conservancy estimate that around half the world’s sea turtles have ingested plastic, and straws are believed to have accounted for a lot of that. With everything you read or learn about the effect of straws on the environment, it's surprising that it's taken this long for us to do something about it.

With that said, it's not just the turtles that are benefitting from the rise of the paper straw - I'm pretty pleased about it as well. Why? Because using paper instead of plastic might mean that we stop manufacturing those evil straws with tiny spoons on the end of them.

Yes, evil. How many times have you been enjoying a Slush Puppy on a hot summer’s day, only to realise you can't get to the bits at the bottom of the cup, because your straw inexplicably has a spoon on the end of it. What's that for? A Slush Puppy is a drink, and spoons are for eating things with. “It's for eating the delicious bits of vaguely-flavoured ice after you've sucked up all the syrup”, you might say, but then why? Mojitos are made with crushed ice, but you wouldn't go up to the barman and go "excuse me, mate, you forgot to give me a spoon so I could eat all these delicious bits of vaguely-minty ice", would you?

Anyway, you can't suck up all the syrup in the first place when the bottom of your straw just isn't a straw. This a problem we usually solve by holding the cup above our mouths and giving the bottom of the cup a gentle tap, usually sending the rest of it falling out of the cup and all over your face, shirt, anywhere but your mouth, faster than you can say “I can't believe I’m 23 years old and writing an angry blog about straws with tiny spoons on the end”. Another solution we often resort to is turning the straw upside down, which, in my experience, always leads to cutting the roof of your mouth on the tiny spoon that you were never going to use in the first place. No wonder it took us so long to show a bit of sympathy for the turtles - we've been ignoring our own straw-related injuries for years, probably just because we think it makes us look hard.

As far as I'm concerned, spoons are for food, and straws are for liquids. That's why, whenever I order soup in a café, I always ask for a straw. Yes, I get looks from the other customers, but I'm sure they aren't looks of amusement or confusion - everyone else just wishes they'd thought of it first.

Ladybirds

Ladybirds aren't cute. They are not ‘nice’ bugs. They are beetles, in a quirky disguise, who can also fly. With all that in mind, why are we taught to like them? Why do people spot one land on your clothes, or in your hair, and cheerfully announce “oh, there’s a ladybird on you!”, as if you’ve somehow been chosen by the ladybird and should feel honoured. Get it off me now, because I don’t know what it’s going to do! Don’t tell me that it’s ‘harmless’ and that I’m ‘overreacting’. We thought that cigarettes were ‘harmless’ before the mid-60s, cheerfully puffing our way through life, with one in each hand at any given moment, as we watched our darling babies speak their first words, which were usually something along the lines of “alright, mate, 20 Sterling Dual, please” - but then we learned. We learned that they weren’t as harmless as we first thought. And believe me when I tell you that, one day, we’ll reach the same conclusion about ladybirds. Just as soon as we find out exactly what they’re planning.

In fact, where have they gone? I haven’t seen one for a good while. Surely, they’re holed up in a specially designed lair somewhere, millions of them, carefully planning their next move in their efforts to overthrow the human race. Planning and watching. We may not be able to see them, but I’m willing to bet they have eyes on us. You know when you’re alone and you get the feeling there’s something or someone else present? It’s ladybirds. I’m sure of it. We need to watch our backs.

I’m not really sure where my fear of ladybirds has come from. Perhaps it’s down to a dream I’ve been having at least three times a year since I was a teenager, in which I’m leaving my Nan’s house and spot a ladybird the size of a Golden Retriever out in the alleyway, just sitting there, still and silent. I run around the corner to one of my friend’s houses, to warn him of the arrival of our ladybird overlords, but the entire front of his house is covered in millions of the things. I shout his name, up at an open window, and he replies that he’s coming down to open the door to me, but when he does, it isn’t him at all - it’s just a 6ft tall ladybird. I usually wake up in a cold sweat at that point, but when I try to go back to sleep, I can feel them crawling all over me.

I know I sound insane, but I promise you, I’m not - I just don't trust them, and I think that’s understandable.

Hate

If there's one thing I hate more than all the above, it's the very concept of hate itself. I don't just mean in a political or universal sense - although, I do agree the world might be a far better place if we all just hated each other a little bit less - hate has an effect on all our personal lives, too.

I'm really trying to make the most of my early twenties, and that means conserving what little energy I have left after I'm done working, drinking, and crying - just the usual daily activities that we all partake in - to be a little more productive. I can't be using that energy up on hate. In fact, in a scientific study that I've literally just made up, it was found that feeling hatred for even one fifth of a second uses up three times as much mental and physical energy as smiling at sixteen angry strangers, half of which are making fists at you. You can't argue with those sorts of statistics.

Anyway, I'm hoping to return to talking about things that make me feel a little more positive next time, because, besides anything, it's just nice to be nice, isn't it?

Not to Stephen Mulhern, though. He needs to learn his lesson.

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