Why Frozen’s Anna is my insecure hero

It’s weird to think that Frozen came out almost three years ago. This is partly because time is bizarre and moves a hell of a lot faster than any of us would really like it to, and partly because thanks to Frozen’s never-waning popularity, it hasn’t really had chance to fade out of the limelight in the same way other films might have done.

Pretty much everyone has seen Frozen. And ask almost anyone about their favourite character and it’s likely you’ll get an “Elsa!” in response. Elsa – the tense, frightened Queen of Arendelle – quickly became a Disney heroine, but not just in the eyes of young children. When I spoke to friends and read pieces online that suggested Elsa was an obvious metaphor for depression and anxiety, it made sense why so many teens and adults were so taken with her, too.

I bought an Elsa doll before I even saw Frozen. There was something about her that I immediately liked and trusted, despite having no knowledge of what her character might be like. I felt like Elsa got it, whatever ‘it’ was. But when I watched Frozen in 2013 – and then again when the DVD came out, and again and again after that – I found that it wasn’t actually Elsa I related to. It was Anna.

At first glance, Anna is Arendelle’s version of the Girl Next Door. She’s sweet, freckled and friendly. She talks about gas. She accidentally knocks things over. She says herself near the start of the film that she is “completely ordinary,” and you’d be forgiven for thinking “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Elsa’s the one with the hidden powers. Elsa’s the one with the awkward hand movements and the closed doors and the visible anxiety. And then there’s Anna: sleeping in, asking to build snowmen and skipping down the halls. Anna seems fine, and so Anna gets forgotten.

But it was Anna actively encouraging this “completely ordinary” talk that made me stop and look at her again. Why was someone so outgoing and confident able to talk about herself so negatively? When Anna meets Hans (of-the-Southern-Isles, AKA the sneakiest Disney villain you ever SAW), he apologises for knocking her into a boat (remember the adorable “I’m awkward – you’re gorgeous! Wait, what?” mumbling from Anna?) and she insists it’s not a problem, because she’s “not that princess.” If it was Elsa, things would have been different, she assures Hans. I realised that Anna is so used to thinking of herself as a sprawling, inelegant version of Elsa – as the loud nuisance who can’t stay put in her room or keep her sister’s attention – that she doesn’t really like herself very much.

It’s this self-deprecating language that really piques Hans’ interest. Sure, he can’t believe his luck when he finds out he’s come face to face with the Princess of Arendelle (WE KNOW YOUR PLAN, NASTY HANS), but when she also turns out to be outwardly insecure (“If you’d hit my sister, Elsa, it’d be… yeesh! But lucky you: it’s just me”) he questions it (“Just you?”), as if he’s trying to gauge just how low Anna’s self esteem might be. Why even bother approaching Elsa now? If her sister is this self-conscious and unassertive – giving strangers permission to hit her with wooden boats and suggesting she’s not worth a whole lot – Hans’ plan has already kicked off, without him lifting a finger.

Although we know that Elsa’s excessive amount of time spent behind closed doors is purely to protect Anna, it makes sense that Anna herself – unaware of Elsa’s powers – feels differently. From Anna’s perspective, Elsa just doesn’t care about her anymore. Elsa feels distant and almost scary. Remember the post-coronation party, where Elsa waits coolly on the stage? Anna rushes into the picture – late and flustered – and suddenly realises she has no idea where to stand. Unconvinced that she should be up on the stage with her sister, Anna flounders awkwardly at the side until she’s instructed to move. A moment later, she is visibly surprised when she realises Elsa’s laidback “Hi” is actually directed at her.

Even when Elsa’s not involved, Anna seems to go out of her way to place herself at the bottom of the metaphorical pile. When she stumbles upon Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post (ooh, and sauna!) and meets Kristoff while paying for her new winterwear, she says “Excuse me” shyly and moves out of his way, despite the fact that Kristoff – painfully afraid of people in his own way – has spoken to her rudely and cut in front of her in the two-person queue. Anna’s polite and kind – both brilliant qualities – but her behaviour frequently suggests that she views other people as more important than her.

As the film continues, Anna pushes herself and comes out on top. She asks Kristoff to take her up the North Mountain, which he refuses to do, and Anna realises she needs to demand, not request: “Let me re-phrase that. Take me up the North Mountain.” She adds a hurried “please” at the end – understanding that she doesn’t have to be rude to get what she wants – and Kristoff agrees. Encouraged by the results but irritated by his lack of urgency, she blurts “We leave… now. Right now.” You can see from her body language and facial expressions that she’s not quite comfortable with this kind of behaviour, but in my eyes, that’s what makes her so impressive – she’s afraid, but she tries anyway.

What I love the most about Anna is that she acts as her own metaphor, too, perfectly depicting so many people who struggle with self-worth and assertiveness. While Elsa is coming to terms with her powers, Anna’s dealing with her own issues – learning that she isn’t there to be ignored or dismissed, and realising that sometimes she might get to call the shots, as well.

But Anna doesn’t change overnight – she puts the work in. She takes small, tentative steps, and her lack of self-confidence and attempts to build it up are realistic, whether she’s breathing a frightened, relatable sigh of relief after standing up to Kristoff or plucking up the courage to tell Hans “The only frozen heart around here is yours” as the movie ends.

To me, Anna is not “completely ordinary” at all – she is quirky and clumsy and excitable and anxious and lonely, and her layered personality is equally as complex as Elsa’s.

How to deal with an adult tonsillectomy

About to have your tonsils removed? Considering it? Sitting at home post-op with a mouthful of ice and a deathwish?

I had a tonsillectomy at the start of July and am now about 80 per cent recovered, which means I can actually get out of bed and write and think and I don’t have to plan my day around antibiotics and baby food. It’s great. But you know what? For the first 60 per cent of recovery I felt like a small, smelly man was living in my throat and enjoyed stabbing me with a pair of scissors every time I tried to swallow my own spit.

So let me share the trauma of the last two weeks with you in case you ever have to deal with the same thing or have stumbled across my blog after Googling ‘why is recovering from a tonsillectomy so horrible?’.

HERE’S WHAT YA NEED TO KNOW (warning! It’s gross at times. I will not skirt around the icky bits):

Before the operation:

Clean your house
Get everything in order and make sure you’re happy with how clean stuff is, unless you live with someone who’s happy to keep the place lookin’ dust-free while you’re ill. It’s not nice to be bedridden in a dirty house or to keep looking at piles of clothes you wish you’d washed while you could actually get off the sofa. Preparation is KEY.

Pack an overnight bag
I was a bit confused about the possibility of staying overnight post-op, because a letter I’d been given said I wouldn’t need to, but the leaflet it came with said I might, which wasn’t overly helpful. Me being me, I packed a ‘just in case’ bag.

In the end I did need to stop at the hospital, so I was glad of my rucksack full of home comforts. I was SO tired after the op – probably due to the anaesthetic – so the thought of getting dressed and leaving wasn’t too appealing anyway. I literally slept from 3pm until 7am, and only woke up to eat (and then cry over not being able to finish) some fish and chips that a very nice nurse brought over for me.

Not sure what to take with you for an overnight stay? I’d recommend: PJs, socks, spare underwear, a book (or a couple of books if you’re a fast reader), toothbrush and paste, face wipes, phone charger, a dressing gown, some slippers, and maybe a DS or something along those lines. AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE of some sort. That should keep you busy.

After the operation:

Don’t be freaked out by white stuff in your mouth
It sounds vile, and it is kind of vile, but it’s not anything to worry about. Everything I read/heard/was told advised me not to pay it much attention – it will fade over time. I think food ‘knocks’ it off, too. Yummy.

Expect the pain to get worse
The general consensus post-tonsillectomy is that your pain will get gradually worse before it gets better – my nurse told me that day four would probably be the worst of them all. When my mum and my boyfriend picked me up the day after my op (a Saturday) I was all “I’m fine! I’ve got my co-codamol! Let’s have a takeaway!” but by Monday I was lying in bed crying with the Harry Potter audiobooks on in the background. Apparently this is pretty normal (the pain, not the Harry Potter audiobooks).

Try to differentiate between ‘normal pain’ and ‘return to the hospital’ pain
What I mean is, it makes sense that you’ll feel rough, because your body has suffered a trauma. You’ve gotta expect to feel like your throat is on fire, at least a bit. But I reckon that if you get to day seven and you don’t feel like you’re improving at all, you should book an appointment and get checked out.

Know what an infection looks and feels like
I say (/write) this because I had no idea what an infection looked or felt like. From day three to day six of my recovery I thought the intense pain I was in was just normal, post-tonsillectomy hell, y’know? IT WAS NOT. I’d managed to get an infection, which basically meant my mouth smelled like a small animal had crawled into it and died, my throat had weird grey stuff coating it and my voice had completely gone. All I did all day was sob, point at stuff, and write notes on a whiteboard, like a literate baby.

The best way I can describe ‘normal post-tonsillectomy pain’ is “sore but manageable” – I experienced it at the start and end of my recovery and it was bearable, despite not being much fun. ‘Infection pain’ is not really manageable. It hurt to swallow, to drink, to eat, to cry. My whole head felt like it was being knocked against a wall every thirty seconds. I wished I’d known the difference, so I could have whizzed back to the hospital sooner than I did.

If you wind up more on the ‘infection pain’ end of the spectrum than the ‘normal post-tonsillectomy pain’ end, definitely go and see a doctor. Make sure you have someone around you to take care of you (I was too zonked to move) and ask for some antibiotics from your GP. Some people seem to get given antibiotics as standard – ask after your operation and see what comes of it.

Eat whatever you can
If you can eat toast and crisps and that sort of thing, it’s totally advised. Apparently the more crunchy stuff you eat, the more likely you are to promote healing in your mouth, which can only be a good thing. However I got to the point where I was so poorly I physically couldn’t eat any kind of harder food (it took me fifty minutes to eat half a bowl of soup and a cracker) and the GP I saw said that it was better to eat ice cream three times a day than nothing at all.

I ended up on a diet of the aforementioned ice cream, as well as baby food and yoghurt. I then moved onto stuff like mashed potato, porridge and pasta when my antibiotics kicked in. I’m no doctor, so I can’t say what’s definitely good and bad to eat, but if you’re struggling to get anything down the hatch at all, I’d suggest softer food and a check-up to make sure you’re healing properly.

Know what to do if something scary happens
The scariest part of my post-op recovery was when I woke up from a nap and realised my ‘wounds’ were bleeding. I was terrified, largely because I’d recently read a very helpful and not at all disturbing article in the Daily Mail about a girl who died when the same thing happened to her (I’m a worrier, okay?). My boyfriend called the hospital, we did some Googling, and it transpired that blood is okay – the advice I was given was to gargle with very cold water and keep checking to see whether the bleeding had stopped. If it’s still going strong after five minutes, head to A&E.

I also threw up (I’m not sure why) which I was scared would burst my stitches or cause extra bleeding along the way. Luckily it didn’t, but again, being sick is something that seems to be quite common. These things happened to me within the first four days of recovery, so I’d recommend having someone in the house with you at all times during this period. I literally showered with the door open and that sort of thing – it’s important to make sure you’re within earshot of someone who can help you ASAP if something bad does happen.

Get an ice pack
You know those floppy blue ice bags people’s parents keep in the freezer? BUY YER OWN. On my darkest, grumpiest days, my ice pack was the only thing that really helped. All you need to do is get it cold (the chillier the better), wrap it in a tea towel and hold it up to your neck/glands: BAM, instant relief.

Ice is very helpful in cubed or crushed form, too – put some in a cup, grab a spoon and eat it like you would a Disney on Ice snow cone. Ice-snacking is helpful for two reasons: number one is that it numbs the painful area, and number two is that it’s a good way to get some water into your system if you’re struggling to drink.

Stay hydrated
I know, I know – how the hell are you meant to stay hydrated when taking one sip of water feels like you’re being slowly attacked with an in-mouth chainsaw? I can’t even say. It’s the worst. But drinking loads is supposed to be THE most important thing when it comes to tonsillectomy recovery. Get as much water in you as you possibly can.

Be prepared for stuff to taste a bit odd
The taste in your mouth after a tonsillectomy is GRIM. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was so I did a bit of digging online – someone said it tasted like the smell of burnt hair, which was spot on. I’m on day 17 of my recovery now (!) and I still can’t drink squash or any kind of fizzy drinks because they genuinely taste like dust to me. I didn’t know what dust tasted like before I had my tonsils out, but here we are. I am a water-only gal until further notice. I also am avoiding chocolate wherever possible because I can’t taste the sweetness at the moment. It’s quite sad.

Don’t be worried if that dangly bit in your mouth has swollen loads
It’s called an UVULA. Did you know that? I didn’t, until about three days ago. Mine swelled up after my op and hasn’t done a whole lot since then – my doctor told me it’s likely that it got burnt during the procedure. From what I can work out, there’s not much you can do about a swollen uvula, except drink icy water and hope it’ll shrink a bit soon.

Try sleeping with more pillows than normal
You know when you have a cold and you can’t breathe properly when you lie down? It’s a bit like that. TMI TIP: I found that every time I lay down I was gripped by a fear of choking on my own, un-swallowable spit in my sleep, so I actually slept sitting up some days. It helped quite a lot.

Keep up with your painkillers
I am AWFUL with painkillers because I always think “I’ll be fine” and then realise I won’t be, by which point I am in extreme pain and wish I had taken my co-codamol many moons ago. Maybe set some alarms on your phone or draw up some kind of a daily plan to make sure you stick to a schedule. When you’re starting to feel better, you can wean yourself off them to test how you’re doing.

~

If you’re preparing for a tonsillectomy or have just had one, I wish you a real speedy recovery – I hope this guide has helped a little. Try not to cry (YOU NEED TO STAY HYDRATED) and make a list of all the yummy things you’re gonna eat when you feel better. It won’t be too far away!

A non-exhaustive list of times The OC was the best show to ever exist

Ask most people my age about their memories of 2003 and they’ll recall a year spent learning the words to Ignition by R. Kelly and deciding which text messages to delete to free up space on their Nokia 3310. But for me, that year mostly involved crying over Seth + Summer, wondering whether Caleb was supposed to be as funny as I found him and wanting to raid Marissa Cooper’s wardrobe. AND THAT WAS JUST SEASON 1. Here are just a few of the occasions when The OC was the best thing ever…

When Luke stopped being a jerk and loved Rooney

Wasn’t this Luke at his absolute finest? When he found out his dad was gay, got beaten up, realised he’d been a right old idiot and then hung out with the Core Four? Yes, it WAS. Bonus points if you can remember this Rooney episode where he embarrassed the rest of the group through shouting so loudly and then played a cringey song on the guitar backstage (“No he didn’t, yes he d-d-d-d-did, WHOOSH!”)

When Marissa smiled at Ryan during the season 1 fashion show

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This song was playing (“HEEEYY GIRRRL!”) and you KNEW stuff was gonna get interesting. Go away, early-season-1-Luke. Ryan and Marissa, JUST KISS ON THE FERRIS WHEEL ALREADY *cries*

When the music became your listen-to list

…and theocmusic.co.uk became your go-to website. Thank you, The OC, for showing me Pinback, Modest Mouse and the Dandy Warhols and for leading me to sit by the TV with a notepad every week so I could write down the exact point the songs I liked came on and later Google them.

When people shouted stuff at Seth every time he stood on something to tell Summer he loved her

“That’s not Zach Stevens!” “Seth Cohen’s a tool.” “You’re dating this emo geek?”

When it was raining and no-one wanted to leave the house

Seth tried to tempt Ryan in with bagels. Ryan wanted Seth to come to the poolhouse. In the end they spoke on the phone and it was adorable. PLUS as soon as you re-watch the rainy day episode you know the upside-down-Spidey-kiss is coming soon. HOORAY, Sethummer is BACK ON.

When Atomic County became a real-life thing

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Remember Johnny, the guy who broke his leg and loved Marissa a lot (and then died)? His Atomic County character turned out to be called Johnny Tears, which is something I still marvel at all these years later.

When Seth was ‘ill’

As Ryan said, he had a bad case of the Summer flu. Maybe he needed some… ANNA-BIOTICS! Aw. And who said Ryan wasn’t funny?

When the Mallpisode was a thing

Yes, there was an episode called ‘The Mallpisode’ BECAUSE THEY GOT TRAPPED IN A MALL OVERNIGHT BY A PRE-FAME AMBER HEARD AND IT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. The Core Four played hockey, The OC’s music supervisor played E-Pro by Beck and it was amazing.

When they didn’t try and pair Ryan + Summer or Seth + Marissa together, ever

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Say what you want but this is RARE for teen TV shows. At no point in the entire four seasons did one couple get swapped over – The OC went the other way, making a point of how ever-so-slightly awkward it could be when it was just Ryan and Summer, or vice versa.

When Seth got the comic book club to spy on Summer and Zach

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Any time Anna said “Confidence, Cohen”

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Sometimes I still think “Confidence, Cohen” in my head when I’m about to do something very brave and scary. Anna was a wise, well-dressed BABE and I missed her when she left.

When George Lucas was a guest star and Zach finally had enough

George didn’t go to prom, because he was too busy drawing ewoks. Did you know that? I’m not sure if that was true or if he was making it up. But Seth didn’t really care in the end, because he needed to go to school ASAP and declare his eternal love for Summer (again. Sorry Zach).

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When you realised how different life would’ve been for the characters without Ryan

The season 4 episode that sticks out for me is the one where a still-grieving Ryan gets knocked out and ends up in an alternate universe where he never came to live with the Cohens. Seth’s sad and lonely, and Kirsten and Sandy are divorced. Marissa is still dead – except this time it’s because she successfully overdosed in TJ and Ryan wasn’t there to find her. THAT’S RIGHT, HE GAVE HER TWO MORE YEARS. I’m not crying. You’re crying. Shut up. EVEN MORE BONUS POINTS if you spotted the poster of Johnny Harper, award-winning surfer, in the background.

When Seth’s bedroom was what you truly wanted in life

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The posters, mostly. Why couldn’t we be Seth Cohen? Why couldn’t we date Seth Cohen? There were no boys at school with Misfits, Ben Folds Five AND Nirvana posters, or if there were they certainly didn’t also own a plastic horse named Captain Oats.

When Julie Cooper said anything, ever

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I LOVE JULIE COOPER. I love her comments to Gus the trailer park man, I love how much she adores Marissa even though it doesn’t always come across and I love that as much as she wants high-speed internet access, it’s not worth Kaitlin becoming suspicious.

When the show referred to itself

The Valley, the time Seth wondered whether it was Oliver at the door, when Lucy Hale (ARIA, IS THAT U?) mentioned a boring, old love triangle during the S3 Anna episode, when Seth noted that Zach ACTUALLY came back (“People never leave and come back…”). And that Bait Shop comment. I am happy-crying just thinking about it.

I’m still only scratching the surface here but I figure I should stop. I SALUTE YOU JOSH SCHWARTZ, this show will never stop being anything short of a masterpiece.

Long hair, kind of care (AKA Rapunzel problems)

I had a SERIOUS hair cut almost exactly ten years ago. When I say ‘serious’, I don’t mean that it made me look like an office worker or that it gave me a studious vibe – I mean I had a lot chopped off. It was a trim and a half, a trip to the salon that would result in a few raised eyebrows and several “Oh my god!”s when I arrived back at school.

Sick of straightening an unruly mop, I’d opted for what could only be described as a duck-butt (Google it, I’m sure some kids in your year had it too. Probably the ones you threw stuff at during your lunchbreak). I used my brother’s hair wax to keep it bouncy but soon realised that my hair styling skills weren’t so hot when a boy in my class named George kindly pointed out that I had really attractive globs of glue-like wax stuck to the back of my head most days.

After a while I got bored of this style too and decided that all I could do was wait for my hair to grow back again. So I waited. And waited. And before I knew it I had hair down to my waist. It’s been this way for years now – I’m well-versed in all things Rapunzel. But having long hair can be a royal pain in the ass.

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Did you know you are never more than 6ft away from a hairball?

The absolute worst are the hairballs that appear ALL OVER THE HOUSE. I sit on the floor to read a book or cry over life’s injustices and what am I greeted by? Bloody clumps of my own hair that have somehow joined together to create a gross brown THING closely resembling a spider. These clumps struggle to find their way up the vacuum cleaner. They like to live on the floor. Occasionally they attach themselves to my sock and I think I might be sick. I think they are the only reason my mum really wanted me to move out of her home – the carpet is a lot nicer since I left, you know?

I also have nightmares about someone cutting my hair, probably due to the time SOMEONE ACTUALLY DID CUT MY HAIR AND RUINED IT. This wasn’t the duck-butt occasion – it was in 2013, a simpler time when having ‘princess hair’ was a very real priority for me. I knew I had split ends. I knew I needed a trim. But I was not prepared for the emotional trauma that was to come. I ended up with half of my hair on the floor of the salon and a week-and-a-half of disturbed sleep because I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like Aslan the lion when they sheared him, which I know is an awful thing to say because he is supposed to be a metaphor for Jesus. But still.

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Me crying to my friend post-haircut. WTF IS THIS?

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel around for my hair, to check it was just a bad dream and that no-one has actually broken into my house with the sole purpose of attacking my mane with a pair of scissors. I can normally tell it’s still there, though, because I am lying on it and then struggle to move. Sometimes my boyfriend lies on it, too, and I have to poke him and say YOU’RE ON MY HAIR! PLEASE MOVE. I wonder if I should just tie it up in a bun.

Have you ever tried to use your hair as a scarf? It doesn’t really keep the cold out but when hair gets to the scarf stage you know it’s REALLY long. Occasionally I think about how much I’d be paid if I chopped it all off and sold it to an evil extension/wig maker called Claude. Probably not very much.

I went to the hairdresser yesterday and my hair was so long that I had to stand up to have it cut. I felt a little bit like the creepy girl we all knew in Year 3 who was obsessed with growing her hair to hip-length and looked a bit like a deranged pony. I had some layers put in and I keep looking at them in the mirror today because I don’t like them. Does anyone really love their hair? I’m attached to mine but not because I’m big on it. I’m just used to it, like I’m used to eating cheese sandwiches for lunch at work. They’re not fantastic but I’m not sure I have the creativity or energy to branch out right now.

9 things that are only true for UK emo kids of the mid-2000s

Did you like From First to Last? Did you learn HTML? Did you watch Donnie Darko just so you could add it to the Movie section of your MySpace profile? Join the club and reminicise. PC4PC, anyone? (Yes, that is me posing with a plastic bird above. I can’t explain.)

1) You used to stand with your feet pointing inwards

No-one knew why this was a thing – it just WAS. You’d take photos with your feet like this, you’d walk up stairs with your feet like this, you’d even try to sleep with your feet like this. It felt gross but you stuck with it. Outward-pointing feet were the feet of obnoxious, trainer-wearing kids. Inward-pointing feet were misunderstood and awkward and always housed by Converse, Vans or Macbeths.

2) You had at least one friend in a band

Going to a gig and knowing the person on stage was great – you’d walk around the venue (normally a village hall or a city pub) feeling like your own children were about to perform. “Did you know I’m best friends with the drummer?” you’d say (lol what a lie), while scoping the place out to see if ANDREWANARCHY© was attending that evening.

3) You remember a two-month period when almost every girl on MySpace changed her username to MISS MURDER

Or MISS MURDER™ if she wanted to be REALLY cool. Before that album, AFI was a punk band for older kids that you’d never really listened to. After that album, AFI was moved to the top of your Music section on MySpace. Until three months later, when the fad had worn off and you never listened to them ever again. Sorry, Davey.

4) You’d vehemently deny being emo

Actually REFERRING TO YOURSELF AS EMO simply wasn’t done. Shudder. You know when people call themselves hipsters because they’re wearing a pair of 3D cinema glasses with the lenses poked out? It was on a par with that.

5) You knew Skrillex before he was Skrillex

We struggle TO THIS DAY to be close friends with people who don’t remember these images. They are too important to not be discussed. Back in 2005 we listened to Ride the Wings of Pestilence non-stop and wrote Note to Self lyrics on our hands in English classes. From time to time, we wonder if Sonny still speaks to Emily.

6) You got into HTML for a bit and overused &this;

It never occurred to you that this minor social media-enhancing skill might come in handy in future job roles, but occasionally it does and you feel very proud of all the times you edited your profile instead of revising for your GCSEs. HOW’D YOU LIKE ME NOW, MOM? &smug;

7) Sometimes other people say they were emo too but their story doesn’t stack up

Neon yellow tutus? Stripey socks? Please. We would not have accepted your friend request. (Actually, we would, because we wanted to reach the big 1K and weren’t quite desperate enough to join one of those whore trains. Plus we didn’t really get what they were.)

8) Seeing this was the biggest dopamine rush of all time8kqibqh

Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever feel the same kind of anticipation again. MySpace was pre-smart phones, pre-laptops in everyone’s bedroom (unless you were really lucky or really rich). When you logged in for your allotted few hours of MSN-and-social-media and saw those notifications, you knew you were in for some fun. NEW BLOG COMMENTS? BUT THAT NEVER HAPPENS!

9) The people who once mocked you for taking photos of yourself now think the term ‘selfie’ is really cute

2005: “Er, why don’t we just get someone to TAKE the photo for us?”
2016: “OMG, let’s have a selfie! I love selfies. Ooh, a selfie. Shall we take a mirror selfie?” NO. You had your chance, pal.