Kind of like studying abroad....

Would you guys believe it, I’m in America?

Yep. America. The US of A.  And it’s actually rather lovely, considering I’ve only been asked where Wales is in England once and that everyone keeps asking me to say things in my ‘cute accent’. The American people are actually rather decent, I’ve found, though they still don’t know how to spell simple words such as ‘Colour’ or ‘Programme’ properly. As I write this on the shiny Mac computer in the student newspaper room, it’s underlining the correctly spelt words above in red.

Shut up American computer, I’ve been writing and spelling things for years. I know what I’m doing here.

So, yes, as you can see, I’m enjoying America. I’ve learnt a lot of things whilst I’ve been here already, such as that the fact that my name is apparently uncommon in America and everyone feels the need to compliment how beautiful a name it is.

Americaaaaa
Gemma Parry

Well done parents. You have the American approval. You chose my name well.

But in all seriousness now, I am actually enjoying my time here. We’ve been doing absolutely loads of stuff on journalism and media and all the stuff that I’m probably going to use one day, as well as finally getting round to setting up my own website, which will be linked up to this blog when I figure it all out. It has honestly been a bit overwhelming, with all the hands on learning and being immersed in American culture. We’ve been up to the Rockies, (did I mention I’m in Colorado by the way? Clearly not…), we celebrated American Independence, (we British didn’t even care anyways, India was a far better choice,) we’ve been to a rodeo and lots of other stuff I can’t even remember right now. It’s lovely that they’re trying so hard to show us what American culture is all about but, frankly, I’m mostly here for the food.

I think I’ve gained my body weight twice over again whilst being here. Even the vegetables here taste divine. It’s so confusing because I’ve spent most of my life holding a personal vendetta against vegetables that aren’t potatoes but I suppose it’s a good thing. I bet they coat them in sugar to make them taste better. I must try this when I get home.

 

So yeah, I’ve been here now for around about 24 days and I’m leaving for Britain on Saturday. It’s gone quickly actually, and I can’t believe it’s all over already. I think I’m more than ready to come home now though. I’m really starting to miss Britain, my family and my friends. In fact, it’s my little brothers’ tenth birthday tomorrow, which makes being away from home even worse.  That coupled with the fact that I’m not of legal drinking age here and that when I get back into my boyfriend’s house, I’ll probably be handed a glass of some sort of alcoholic beverage, makes me miss home even more. But I’m sure I can hold out for four more days.

Anyway, there is a point to this blog apart from my random musings on American life. And that is the positives of doing exchange programmes or studying abroad. I never really saw it as much of a good thing before but, now that I’ve done it for myself, I can truly see how wonderful it is.

1) Travelling to places you’ve never been before

Before this, I had never been to America before.  A few of the people I travelled here with hadn’t done it before either, so it was completely brand new and exciting. Like most people, I was expecting the version of America that I have seen on shows such as 90210 (best show ever, by the way) and, in some aspects, I was pleasantly surprised to find it completely different to my expectations.  It’s been a massive learning curve and I really wouldn’t hesitate to come back here again.

Me, Kayla and Jack 

2) Making friends for life

The first day of my arrival, everything was a bit awkward. I was sharing a bathroom with two of the only other females on my course who were already firm friends after travelling around America before the course started and, of course, having made friends back in Swansea. I felt left out, sad and tired. But mostly hungry after all my travelling. And so, one of the guys on our course went to Subway and brought me back a massive meal, and well, we all bonded. Over food – my favorite thing. It was a magical moment.

What was really the best thing about it was the fact that these two girls have now become friends for life. We have bonded and shared this experience whilst we have been here and they are without a doubt among the funniest and most cheerful people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. There is no doubt in my mind that we will continue to be friends when we get back to the UK and that counts for each and every single one of the other eight people on the course too.

3) Learning new things

This goes without saying. Being in a brand new environment obviously means that you will learn brand new things. But it’s still a wonderful learning experience, all the same.

Diana and I

4) Personal growth

To you, I may still seem to be the same immature student that I was before I embarked on this adventure and I suppose I still am in some ways. But I feel very differently about the world around me. I feel that I understand it a bit better and that I understand myself a bit better. It makes me feel sorry for my poor boyfriend who puts up with me, day in day out. I’m sorry babe, but it’s all good fun, right? My point is that I feel like I’ve developed as a person and that I can understand where I want to go a bit better. That can’t be a bad thing.

5) More stuff for the CV

I hate CVs. I really do. I hate writing them and I hate sending them off and I hate people reading them. But I feel a bit better about my terrible CV right now, knowing that I have had this experience that I can show off to potential employers, that not many other students will have had. Plus, I apparently get a shiny graduation certificate at the end of the programme to take home. My mother will hang it up in the house – it’ll look lovely.

My ultimate point is that travelling and studying abroad is incredibly rewarding. It’s even nicer for me because I’ve always really wanted to do it without spending the incredibly long time away from my home. So the fact that this course is compacted into one month is a bonus for me.

At the Rockies! 

I will be very sad to leave America – I’ve made incredible friends here and it’ll be really strange not waking up every day and barging into Polly and Diana’s room and bothering them with my nonsense talk. It’ll also be very strange not waking up and putting sun cream on straight away, but I hear that Britain is currently in the middle of a heat wave, so that transition should be easy enough.  But I still can’t wait to get back to Britain and cause the havoc that usually follows me around all over again.

Good luck with that, Britain. 

Eurovision and Gay Marriage Bills.

I know, I know. The gaps between my blogs are getting increasingly bigger and I am getting increasingly frustrated by this. But, my friends, I have a valid reason for my recent lack of enthusiasm for blogging, which lies in one of the banes of student life called exams. Admittedly, I only had one exam this entire academic year and thus, spent most of my time learning European History, (which if you, like me, went to a state school, you spent at least seven years learning about), and twiddling my thumbs. Nonetheless, I still think that my rather expensive and more than likely pointless degree is a good enough excuse to have neglected my blog somewhat.

However, I am now free of my degree for at least a whole month as I top up my nonexistent tan in sunny Colorado. Then, I have to return to a ten thousand word dissertation on a topic I'm not even sure of yet. But never mind - we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Anyways, there's been one thing on my mind recently, (you know, apart from German Nazi's and Italian fascism), and that is the ongoing (hopefully successful) gay marriage bill. I know I've previously written something on this but GET YOUR FACTS STRAIGHT THAT WAS ABOUT SCOTLAND.

So, as I said in that previous blog, (which you can find here - http://gemmaparry.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/i-now-pronounce-you-man-and-man.html) I was and still am hopeful that the rest of the UK would suck it up and follow suit to allow same sex couples to legally marry each other. And finally, it looks like it's headed that way, which makes me happier than a slinky on an escalator. Not that I have a woman lined up to marry just yet, but it's nice to know that I have that option to fall back on now, should I want to.

Courtesy of The Telegraph  

Obviously, the bill has some way to go just yet, so I'm not breaking out my rainbow flags and celebrating with my fellow LGBT+ friends as of yet. But the outcome of the vote in the House of Lords last Tuesday (June 4th), showed 390 to 148 against a motion which would have struck down the bill. Despite the Archbishop of Canterbury stating that the redefinition of marriage would 'undermine the cornerstone of society', I think those figures speak for themselves.

So there, Archbishop.

What really made me happy was when I came across an article from The Telegraph, (again, dad, please forgive me -  I came across the website by mistake), that stated that the Church of England is giving up in its' fight against the bill. Apparently, the Church stated that the scale of the majorities in both the House of Commons and Lords made it clear that it is the will of parliament that same sex couples should legally be allowed to marry. The Bishop of Leicester, the what I'm going to refer to as Head Bishop in the House of Lords, said that they would 'now concentrate their efforts on improving rather than halting an historic redefinition of marriage.'

As we can see and much to my delight, things are changing. Fast. That much was proven in the (somewhat) recent Eurovision song contest which, if you didn't watch it, (WHERE WERE YOU AND WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?!) was a little bit different this year. For once, it actually got political - and not just in the usual sense that neighbouring countries vote for one another in a facade of provincial support. I mean importantly political.

Krista Siegfrids
Courtesy of The Sun

Whilst obviously the voting of neighbours did happen, (let's briefly ignore the fact that Ireland gave us ten points and, and they didn't even make the top three of the UK vote), the whole contest got shaken up a bit this year. The Finland entry in the shape of a blonde babe, Krista Siegfrids, sang some infuriatingly catchy song called Marry Me. While the clearly desperate not to live alone as a cat lady forevermore Siegfrids has already said that the song is about her desire for her boyfriend to propose, (seriously mate, take what you've got and run), in performing, she challenges the viewer's expectations by kissing one of her equally attractive female dancers.

Of course, it could be intended to shock some of the more conservative around us, an attention-seeking device for what would otherwise be a rather typical pop song or it could even be perceived as  a way of appealing to men. It's no secret that it definitely appealed to me. Just a tad.

Personally, I think it's about much more, which is why I have brought British government bills and singing contests together in one blog. It's common knowledge that Finland is currently the only Nordic country without marriage equality. And, as we well know, the Nordic countries are pretty far ahead of other European countries when it comes to LGBT+ rights. They have to be ahead in something I suppose.

Mine and Siegfrids point is that everyone should be allowed to kiss and thus, to marry, whomever they wish to. It's so wonderful that Siegfrids is a straight woman, fearing being forever alone with a dozen cats, and yet, she isn't afraid to speak up on behalf of those in same sex relationships who, likewise, would like to get married. After all, what better time is there to demand equal rights when you have most of the eyes of Europe watching you in one of the poorest excuses for a mock wedding dress I have ever seen? Absolutely no time at all.

The whole contest though? It was as hilarious and wonderful as ever and Graham Norton was on top form.  Frankly, I've never really been a massive Bonnie Tyler fan, despite the fact that she now lives just down the road from me, but her genuine/acting (but really genuine) drunkenness was very entertaining. Shame about the song mind. The Danish babe who won was mind numbingly gorgeous, with fabulous hair, leaving me craving her hairdressers mobile number and, as per usual, everyone voted for their next door neighbours, (all except for Armenia and Azerbaijan, of course). The music was mostly awful, but we at home carried a massive torch for Greece and free alcohol, and I carried my own for Finland and, of course, gay marriage. 

Too skinny for society

I've never been massively conscious of my body, especially regarding my weight. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I am completely comfortable in my own skin, but I've never taken extreme action to lose weight. Even after looking in the mirror and being dissatisfied with my hair, my clothes, my body shape and my face, I can still eat a few Krispy Kreme donuts and think nothing of it.

But, at the end of the day, like the majority of the female population, I am never satisfied with the way I look.

This thought was particularly renewed for me when I went for my routine medical check up in the doctors last month. I'd pretty much aced the lung capacity test and my blood pressure was perfect. I could see that the doctor was thoroughly impressed by my ability to survive without her constant input.  And so, it was with an air of smugness that I jumped up onto the scales feeling pretty confident that I'd be around my ideal weight.  

However, it was to my (at the time) pleasant surprise that the doctor told me that I was underweight by one kilogram. Which, apparently, is a big deal.

ONE KILOGRAM. GOD FORBID I BE UNDERWEIGHT BY ONE KILOGRAM.

Ok so let's start off on the right footing. I am currently 5ft3", showing no definite signs of growing anymore and, according to my last check up, I weigh 59 kilograms, (feel free to convert the measurements yourself if you aren't sure about them.) I've always been around my ideal weight and to be bluntly honest, I'm pretty sure the scales were lying as there is no way I can possibly weigh so little.

If the scales were correct, however, it isn't down to exercise or healthy eating. I am sure my family and friends will be able to vouch for me when I say that I LOVE food to the point where I am planning my next meal whilst eating my current one. I eat what I like, when I like and, even if I do worry about my weight, these irrational thoughts are quickly dismissed by a doughnut or a slice of pizza.

So no, it wasn't the fact that I wasn't my ideal weight that bothered me. What got to me after I'd left the doctor's office was that she had told that I was too skinny and that I needed to put weight on.

Me? Too skinny? I mean please, has this woman not seen my baby pictures? I put the Michelin man to shame.

Ok, clearly, I am no longer a baby and I probably should be taking care of myself a bit better, I get that. But I'm hardly a bag of bones. I have generous sized boobs, (cringe cringe dad!), hips and a wobbly bum, (yes it wobbles and makes for comfortable sitting on) and, personally, I think I'm quite generously filled out.

What I'm trying to say is that, despite what you might think, being told that I was too skinny actually made me feel a bit shit. I have never ever been called skinny before and, after being told it once, I never want to be told it again. Girls don't want to be skinny and being called it is not a subtle compliment. Girls want to be slim with curves and big breasts. Unfortunately, you can't have it all and frankly, there is a very important difference between the words 'skinny' and 'slim'.

It seems to me that the world doesn't seem to let women have their own opinions about their bodies. I'm sure that not everyone wants to be really skinny and not everyone has tried really hard to get there. Not everyone is worried that they don't look thin enough.

Like I said, I've never been referred to as skinny before but, it didn't feel good. I have friends who are slim and, I'll admit that nearly every time that I see them I always go through the same thought process: My thighs are twice as big as hers and I'm wearing a skirt. Why am I wearing a skirt? Damn all skirts - she's probably feeling sorry for me for having these legs. I could never wear those skinny jeans she's wearing. I could never wear the outfit she's wearing - it looks so good on her. Everything looks good on her because she's so slim. Maybe she's on a diet. Maybe I should be on a diet...

And at that point, I usually wander off and find a bag of crisps to devour.

However, now that I've been on the receiving end of it, I feel so guilty. I suddenly realised that I was one of those annoying women who take the time to care about how skinny other women are. It's far too easy to think that someone else's body is a commentary that you can make. When, clearly, it's definitely not. It's clearly just their body, their shape and the way that they are.

So, is calling someone skinny really an acceptable thing to do? No - I don't think it is and frankly, I think it's just as insensitive as calling someone fat. Moral of the story here, though, is that no one should ever be allowed an opinion on someone else's body or way of life unless they ask for it. And trust me, I will never ask for it.

Courtesy of http://oceanstatefit.com/well-hello-1998-it-is-nice-to-see-you-again/

Oh and to my legs - you looked fine in that skirt. It's a very nice skirt and no one was really paying you attention anyway so get over yourselves. Attention seekers...

What Thatcher taught me

Most of you who regularly come across and read my blogs will remember that I reside from a small town in the valleys called Merthyr Tydfil.

As I've said in previous blogs, we are a simple folk in Merthyr Tydfil. We have simple pleasures that usually revolve around the pub and everyone knows you as someone's offspring or grandchild. Our take on English grammar schools are schools that teach through the medium of Welsh and we are all pretty much working class. While these things make living in the valleys grand, we haven't had the easiest of times since the closure of the coal mines.

Yes boys and girls. I'm here to discuss Margaret Thatcher - and you should've known it was coming in light of her death this week. Sorry dad.

As a born and bred valleys girl, my expected reaction to her death is to celebrate but, as always, I am full of surprises, I am a women, (which means that I enjoy being awkward and doing the opposite of what I am told/expected to do) and, more importantly, that's not what I'm here to do. In such situations, I try not to let my nationality and family cloud my judgement. While my father has completely forbidden me to date a conservative and my late grandfather was an ex coal-miner  you can see that I have not been brought up to be a Tory lover. However, instead of celebrating as expected, I spent the day feeling somewhat saddened at the loss of a historical figure and comforting my distraught boyfriend with cigarettes, alcohol and chocolate eggs.

Before we continue, let's lay down some groundwork. As has been made obvious, I am a female. I am a female that has been brought up in the valleys, fortunately enough by two sets of parents, who have done a grand job in bringing up the beacon of wonderfulness that is me. My father doesn't read The Times or The Daily Mail. My mother doesn't really read newspapers. In short, I haven't really been brought up to be a conservative and I'm not. But I'm not for labour either. At this moment in time, I can safely say that I don't affiliate to any political party. Admittedly, I can't say I'm completely apolitical; I believe in a support system provided by the state as a safety net, not a hammock. I believe in equality for all no matter their race, gender, class or religion. I believe in gay marriage. What I'm trying to say is that I don't have to be political to have beliefs or to recognise a historical figure, no matter what party he or she is for.

Now that's cleared up, let's move on.

There are many female figures in history that have inspired me and made me see the world in a completely different way. Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Elizabeth I, Jane Austen, Florence Nightingale, Emmeline Pankhurst, Coco Chanel, Rosa Parks and now, Margaret Thatcher. As the first and so far, the only female prime minister of Great Britain, Maggie defined a decade.

Maggie has actually taught me a lot, not just about politics or economics, which, admittedly, I tend to lack knowledge in, but about women and their place in the world. As a historian, I have to recognise that few women in history have achieved the political, social and economic influence that Maggie did and, whether you agree or disagree with what she did or did not, by any measure, she was a historical 'great'.

So, for now, please forget my background. Please forget your views on Margaret Thatcher, be they positive or negative, and read some of the things that Maggie taught me.

1) You can achieve anything you put your mind to

Despite who you are, where you are, what you do and how you do it, you can achieve anything you put your mind to. Simple.

On this point, Maggie showed me that mere biology had and still does not stop women from achieving great things in humanity. In her time, the barriers to women becoming leaders shifted from Darwinian to social and psychological factors. And, despite this, she broke through to holding the highest seat in politics for eleven and a half years.

Even if you hated her, you have to respect that.

2) 'Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't'

I don't make it a secret that I'm not a massive fan of the current government, for many reasons, one being David Cameron's character. Why do so many of our political and business leaders need to throw their weight around these days? It's not big and it's not clever and Thatcher demonstrated this, especially nearing her later years in power, when the distorting and often corrupting effects of power resulting in her being ousted from government. However, in her early years, Thatcher showed me that leadership can be demonstrated and not promoted like some circus side show.

3. Don't set out to be liked

One of the main things I fear most about our generation of political leaders is that they are compromising on what is right in order to avoid 'rocking the boat.' What we, and certainly I have in these political leaders is doubt and uncertainty. In this case, Thatcher taught me if you set out to do what is right, even if it is unpopular, history will remember the end result, whether favorably or not. For me, this is a lesson that I will certainly be using in my career as a journalist.

4. Expect the unexpected

It's common knowledge that Maggie didn't expect there to be a female prime minister in her time and that she never really set out to become the prime minister. From that, I take that you should always expect the unexpected and dream as big as you can. What harm could it do? Hey, you may even end up as the Prime Minister of Britain.

I am not commending or condemning Baroness Thatcher. I am merely remarking on what lessons I can take away from her character and her time in power. I am constantly reminded that I was not alive when Thatcherism was in full swing and so, I can never fully appreciate what happened. Admittedly, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive what she did to the coal mine industry, my valley and my family. But, as of yet, I do not and I don't think I will ever know what effect Margaret Thatcher has had on me as an individual. Likewise, I cannot be sure of the long term effects that she has had on our nation. What I do know, however, is that this is a time when our nation needs to stop and reflect on what has been.

The Top Five Reasons to get involved with Societies

If there is anything I regret about my time at Swansea University so far, it is that I haven't joined enough societies.

As much as I like putting that down to my 'extortionate' workload, realistically, it is due to my pure laziness , lack of enthusiasm and lack of motivation that I am not involved in all of the societies that I would like to be. In my first year, I spent at least 6 hours, if not more, wandering around the Fresher's Fair trying to find something I'd enjoy, (whilst bagging all the free pens I could fit in my pockets), and even at the end of it, I wasn't sure I could commit to attending anything weekly as I was just getting to grips with everything that was going on.

In my second year, I was a part of the Fresher's Fair, manning a stall trying to entice people into writing for The Waterfront newspaper as I battled round two of severe Fresher's Flu. Again, I had major hopes of joining lots of societies like cheerleading, netball, Hogwarts appreciation, French and Photography. But as I wandered aimlessly around the fair, (again, grabbing all the free stuff I could get my hands on), I never really got round to it.

Now, I'm halfway through my degree and still, all I have managed to achieve is signing up for the newspaper, drinking my liver into a comatose, successfully scheduling my classes around showings of Jeremy Kyle and doing a bit of work towards my degree. It doesn't really seem to me that I have utilised my time here to the best of my ability.

This thought was particularly renewed in the midst of the Swansea University Students' Union Full Time Officers elections. (Try saying that twice as fast.) Election night is always particularly exciting for me - not because it's probably the biggest event of the year for the paper or because of all the emotional candidates that add up for some fantastic coverage, but because I get to work alongside what I refer to as my 'Waterfront family', to produce some incredible work.

My Waterfront FamilyFrom left to right - Jake, Alan, Craig, Catrin, Fred, Me, Jon, Sam, Melvin, Chris, Lauren, Emma, Ina and Sophie. 

I've been working at the Waterfront now about a year and a half and the people there have literally become my family away from home. There are really no words to describe how wonderful these people are, but they have become my brothers and sisters and, more importantly, my very best friends.  I spend every single day with these people, putting together a paper, finding stories and working hard and yet, at the end of it all, I don't want to kill them. That, my friends, is love.

My point is that I should've joined more societies and met more people like this.

So, all this got me thinking of why exactly students should and do join societies. Whilst I may not have had the true motivation to get off my arse and do it, I think I've nailed it into five points.

1) Smart students have realised that societies don't just mean sport

When I initially started studying at university, I was under the clichéd and very American impression that all societies were going to be very much sport orientated. With my being 'athletically challenged' leading to my inability to understand the offside rule, (no matter how many times the salt shakers are brought out), and my motivation to pass my driving test on the first try, it was the one thing that was making me dread my upcoming time at university.  However, it turns out that there are societies out there to cater to everyone and everything from snitch and bitch societies to Quidditch societies, (I've done my research - these are genuine societies).  For me, this was fantastic news, especially as I was born and bred to be a writer, not a runner.

2) Some students just can't rely on their CVs

CVs can either be the bane of your life or wonderful, magical slips of paper that grant you access to money.  I've had it constantly drummed into me throughout my education that employers are now being increasingly greedy and wanting someone who has more than a good degree. Being a part of a society proves to potential employers that you have had previous experiences of fun that will prepare you for the staff parties throughout the year. This separates you from someone who focuses all their time and energy on their degrees. Sure, it's great to get a first, but I'd rather get a 2.1 and have fun doing it than get a first and be a boring sod for the rest of my life.

3) Knowing that socialising is key

The very last thing you want to do at university is not to socialise and meet new people. Societies give the nervous and shy students to meet other like minded students who they can drink with, chat with, drink with, have coffee mornings with, drink with and generally enjoy themselves with. Plus, you genuinely do make lifelong friends through all this stuff.

4) Wanting to learn new things

Ah all you freshers with your shiny new backpacks, student accounts, notepads, pen and stars in your eyes! You've just passed what you feel have been the hardest exams you'll ever have to sit, you're free of the shackles of sixth form and A levels, you're free from the time old 'you'll live by my rules when you live under my roof' argument, and you finally have your own space. You think you know it all but think, take a step back between finding the best things to pawn when your student loan runs out and consider that you may actually learn something new through joining a society. Since joining the Waterfront, I have learnt so much about the career I'm planning to go into. And not just that, I've learnt so much about myself - what exactly I want to do, where I want to go and who I am as a person. Societies are just one massive learning curve which is why they're so fantastic.

5) ALL THE DISCOUNTS AND FREE THINGS

Some societies, (not all, but some), offer you some worthwhile perks for joining them. Apart from all the new things that you'll be learning, all the friends you'll be making and all the alcohol that you will undoubtedly be drinking in socials, discounts and free things are available. And you know how much students love discounts and free things. Enough said.  

If that's everything covered here, I'm off to start up a 'writers not runners' society - I'm a lover of good alliteration and, well, if there's a way to accept that I'll more likely be writing about the 2016 Olympics than competing in it, then starting a society about it is it. And hey, I have a whole day left of freedom before I dive head first back into my ridiculous 'workload'. I may as well use the remainder of my time wisely and join a few more societies, right?

The new symbol for the writers not runners society! 

All the inspiration you'll need to join or start up your very own society. ----> Top 20 amazingly weird university societies 

Disney on feminism

I don't know whether it had been made 100% clear in all of my previous posts but I'm sure it has shone through in some that I'm all for feminism, especially for both genders.

You may also know, or not know, that I am a massive Disney fan. Literally. It's a sickness.

And so, today I will attempt to bring these two entities together in a collision that will shortly make sense to those among you who are completely baffled to the point which I am trying to make.

So, let's begin. This morning as I logged into Facebook while wasting away any hopes of achieving my potential as always, I browsed the 'news feed' for any references I could use for a new blog post to mostly make myself seem wittier than I am, when I saw a 'new' Facebook group pop up, in an attempt to entice me to liking the page. I say that it was new but, of course, what I mean is that I'd never seen it before.

Firstly, for those of you who don't own a Facebook page, like my father who is undoubtedly reading this, a Facebook group serves three purposes on the social networking site. It;

1) Serves as an excuse to get people to do things.

For example - If 1000 people join this group, Joe Blogs will admit that he is gay.

2) Is the best way to get something done without having too much contact with the human world.

For example - If 1000 people join this group, my girlfriend has said that she will marry me.

3) Serves to point out the bloody obvious.

For example - Join this group if you breathe.

Basically, a Facebook group will show everyone what interests you have and such. I assume that this goes on to manifest into a mutual interest which, theoretically, would manifest into friendship but, so far, I've had no evidence to support that theory.

So anyway, today I came across the Facebook group 'Disney gave me unrealistic expectations of men.'

Admittedly not the same title but you get my drift...

Firstly, yes, of course it did. Disney is fictional.

Secondly, yes, of course it did! Not all men are princes, to start with, and not all men are willing to fight dragons, evil sea creatures, evil Queens, chase women half way across the world or send telegrams around all the houses in the immediate area to find you. These are the kind of men you want to ride off into the sunset with - the ones who you, according to the movies, will never encounter a single problem with. What real life man can compete with that? As much as it pains me to criticise Walter Disney, Disney films portray an unrealistic and glorified version of love. If love were as simple as it is made out to be in these films, then we would all have found our significant others by my age and the world would be wonderful and full of love and blah blah blah.

Thirdly, even if these men did actually exist in today's society, I can assure you that you would not actually consider dating them. We all know that no one is more of a model for a future knight in shining armour than a good, old fashioned Disney Prince, despite being unrealistic or not but, in today's society, they would probably not be contenders for women's hearts.

For example, Prince Charming from Cinderella. Arguably the original Disney Prince, whose romantic decision making skills rest largely on his foot fetish. In today's society - Freak.

Beast from Beauty and the Beast. He's scary and he submits the village beauty to Stockholm Syndrome straight away but, all that is forgiven the second he gives Belle a library. In today's society - Unrealistic.

'The Prince' from Snow White. A prince who apparently doesn't have a name who goes out in search of what has been described as the fairest girl in the kingdom so that he can kiss her to bring her out of a spell and marry her, even though they've never met before. In today's society -  Lookist, egotistical and vain. 

Aladdin from Aladdin (obviously). A thief who is politically opposed to wearing a shirt but a firm advocate of the tiny purple vest who steals the less personable Kim Kardashian from her palace late at night for a carpet ride. In today's society - Girl snatcher.

Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. A rich prince who can't tell the difference between an evil singing brunette and the ginger girl who saved him earlier in the film, and who is ready to marry a girl who has literally never spoken to him after at least 5 dates. In today's society - Untrustworthy and plain stupid.

I could go on but I'm sure you get my point. But this wasn't the only thing that bothered me about this group.

Mostly, this group got me asking myself one serious question. Are we all forgetting the co stars of these films? Admittedly, most of the Disney Princesses can be perceived as being a bit pathetic but they all stand for something, which we are encouraged to do by modern feminism.  Cinderella embodies hard work, hope and staying true to who you are. Belle stands for loyalty and intelligence. Snow White stands for being pure, innocent, loving and open minded. Jasmine stands for having sharp wit, despite being perceived as a bit of an air head and Ariel stands for freedom and sometimes stubbornness.  

The best Disney princess I can refer to on this point is Mulan who isn't officially a Princess but the Hero of China, which I'd prefer to have as a title any day. Mulan goes into battle so her father doesn't have to and, she risks her life for him by joining an army that had severe punishments for women pretending to be men. Honestly, out of all of the Disney Princesses, she had to be the best.

Mulan

Really, what I'm trying to say here is that I don't understand why girls these days are still spending their time and squandering their intelligence on waiting for a Prince who does not and cannot physically exist to come and sweep them off their feet, when they have such great role models to look up to. To me, it is evident that these Disney films were not made to give women unrealistic expectations of men, but were made to prove to women that they can stand for something and that, should they be lucky enough to find their Prince, he is found through hard work, dedication and persistence. What we really need to do when we watch these films is not moan about how no men in the real world are like that and fawn over fictional characters, but take a closer look at the co-stars of these 'perfect' men and learn from them. 

What it means to be Welsh.

Shwmae. Croeso i Gemma's byd ac dydd gwyl Dewi hapus.

I can see that my flawless ability to use Google translate to a certain extent has impressed you greatly so that means we're off to a flying start with this blog. If you're a fluent Welsh speaker, then I apologise for my terrible attempts at speaking what should be my mother tongue.

If you, unlike me, speak fluent and coherent Welsh, then you will understand the point that I am trying to get across. That being that yesterday was the day of Saint David, the patron saint of Wales which, as you may know by now, falls on the first of March every year, in remembrance of his death.

Personally, I have always loved Saint David's Day. Unlike most of my class at school who used to enjoy the extra art lessons to make extra Welshy arty things, the extra assembly time to listen to Welsh poems and stories and the extra Welsh cakes at break and lunch times, I used to and still do love the feeling of sharing my national pride with the rest of my country. The only thing I used to hate about this day was my mother's determination to dress me in traditional welsh dress until at least the age of ten (feel free to look it up and feel my pain) but, thankfully, in 2013, we have somewhat caught up with society and modernised our celebrations slightly.

So, what better day to pose the question - What is being Welsh?

Fortunately, it's not all frilly aprons and rugby shirts as it was when I was younger. In 2013, being Welsh means many things in an amalgamation of many diverse cultures.

Am I Welsh because I feel like I fit in more and am more at home on this side of the Severn Bridge than the other? Am I Welsh because my coat is also my jacket? Because 'here', 'ear' and 'year' are all indiscernible? Because Sospan Bach qualifies as a fantastic song even though the lyrics are about a little boy being scrammed by his cat? (Seriously, give it a listen.) Because you'll be there now. In a minute?

As a thorough-bred Welshwoman who has been living in this wonderful country for all of the 20 glorious years of her life, for me, being Welsh mostly means wanting Wales to win the rugby every single time they play, knowing the importance of the difference between a hug and a cwtch, getting irate when people think that Wales is England, (or vise versa), loving my free prescriptions as I go through the motions with my health, being proud of my heritage as one of the purest Celts and resting safe in the knowledge that we have some of the best looking rugby players in the world.

In a recent survey which asked 1,000 Welsh residents a series of questions about being Welsh versus being British, it revealed that 40% identified most with being Welsh, 35% their local community and under a quarter, British.

It's something that I can fully appreciate. For me, it has never been a question of being Welsh, or British or European. I have never questioned my national identity because I have never really felt British, (the exception to this lies in the recent Olympic and Paralympic games in London, as I'm sure is the case with a lot of people.) I have always felt somewhat disconnected from Britain because I've always viewed the UK as being English which I am most certainly not.

Don't get me wrong - I don't really have a problem with the English since meeting some wonderful English people at university and now being in what society perceives as a 'long term' fully function relationship with an Englishman, I suppose I can't really have a problem with them anymore, even if I wanted to. It's just the idea of being anything but Welsh is scary. I wouldn't know how to be a good Englishwoman or Scotswoman or Irishwoman. I'm not formal enough to be English, I hate the sound of the Bagpipes and while I do love potatoes, I don't think I have what it takes to make it in Ireland.

Personally, I don't believe that Welshness is inherent in being born in Wales, speaking Welsh or being ethnically Welsh. I know people who meet all three of those criteria who are English, British or come from further afield and I know people who meet none of those criteria and yet, are some of the most passionate Welsh people you could ever hope to meet. Surely, being Welsh is open to anyone who feels a deep love for this wonderful country and an inherent Welshness when they are here, which is one of the fantastic things about living here.

For me, being Welsh is mostly being proud of and loving the country deeply. Despite the fact that we are on the map as part of the British Aisles, Wales has single handily played its part in making the UK a great place. We brought the world Tom Jones, Dylan Thomas, Joseph Parry, Joe Calzaghe, Catherine Zeta-Jones and, more importantly, the wonderful show that is Gavin and Stacey. We gave Britain Aneurin Bevan, who reformed the NHS in 1948, Roald Dahl who provided some of the best children's literature that I would still happily read to this day and let's not forget that mail order catalogues would not exist if Pryce Pryce-Jones had not first used the post to sell flannel from Montgomeryshire to far away customers, such as Queen Vic. Telephones work because of carbon microphones invented by David Hughes and the world would have no internet or mobile phones had it not been for Donald Davies and his packet switching. Basically, Wales is a country full of fantastic history, culture and achievement.

 But mostly, I think that being Welsh can be summed up in ten comforting points;

1) Being accused of bestiality with sheep is perfectly normal

2) You automatically correct people on their pronunciation of Welsh place names, even if you can't speak the language.

3) You say the word 'like' at least once in every sentence.

4) You feel the overwhelming need to tell people who are not from the UK that Wales is definitely not a part of England.

5) The only sentence you seem to know in Welsh is "Rydw i'n hoffi coffi." Even if you don't like coffee.

6) Wales versus England in the six nations is the most important day of the year. Full stop.

7) You're drawn to the place, despite being born and bred elsewhere.

8) You support whoever is playing against England in the rugby.

9) You have the last name or know someone with the last name Williams, Bevan, Llewelyn, Morgan, Rees, Powell, Howell, Davies, Lewis, Thomas, Jones, Griffiths, Morris, Evans, James, Roberts, Jenkins, Owens or PARRY.

10) A cwtch is the answer to all of your problems.

Basically, whether you love us or hate us, (and if you're English, it's probably the latter), we are here, our country is amazing and full to the brim of a proud people's who simply love their country for what it is. As much as I may not want to quote the guy, as David Cameron said on his Twitter profile yesterday morning, "From one of Europe's oldest living languages, a great literary tradition and incredible music, to world-class sport, mouth-watering cuisine and a thriving business environment - we can all take pride in such a rich culture and heritage."

The only problem is that it's too close to England.