Keyboard confessional

I've been wondering recently about which is a better quality to possess - modesty, or the ability to impress people with an honesty of what you're about. I've always thought the former, but I'm afraid that I'm starting to question that. 

I'd happily sit and listen to someone talk about a quality or a hobby that they perceive to be impressive, whilst I sit on the knowledge that in fact, they're exaggerating, and I wouldn't be. In other words, I'd rather hold back on information that I know could come across as conceited if I were to mention it.

Sometimes, I find myself biting my tongue in certain conversations that I feel passionate about. Or if I get going, I make an effort to stop talking before getting carried away.

A habit I know I posses, is one to talk myself down, make a joke of myself, and not admit to any self confidence I may have. I almost feel arrogant saying that.

However, in a conversation recently, someone asked me 'would you rather a person had a false modesty, or made it clear that they're aware of their attractiveness?' and the answer, well... I don't have one. I mean, if you do think you're particularly gifted at something, or you know you're good looking- what is it that makes it so difficult to admit? Do I think that I come across better to people by denying any sort of self acknowledgements? Surely not.

Are you certain of your own qualities? More importantly, do you let it be known to others? Maybe it has something to do with some kind of deep seated confident issues. Those that big themselves up - well are they in fact the ones that knowingly have the least to back it up?

If I've been sat in my room working, reading, or if I've been for a run, why do I feel slightly embarrassed sometimes at admitting it? It seems that if I've been doing anything that could be classed as productive or geeky - I should refrain from admitting it. Whereas some people would think the opposite.

It doesn't seem to make sense. I'm striving to be the best I can be in every aspect of my life. Yet I feel uncomfortable admitting that. Okay, I know I just did, but in person, I mean. I think it just has something to do with our culture. We interpret talking about ourselves in a good light as being big-headed.

If anyone has the urge to praise my blog, I might not agree with what you say, but don't let that stop you...

A lone wolf and a crazy hamster.

Have you ever been told something you thought at the time to be insignificant, only for it to stick in your mind for years afterwards? Well, today, I've been thinking about something someone once said to me. It was an old school teacher. He described himself as a 'loner' and said that he prefers to be by himself. At the time, I kind of thought that was a brave thing to admit. I also secretly wondered why he'd chosen a career path that put him in a room with 30 people all day. However, I now find myself questioning whether that's the type of person I am, too. I don't mean that in a sad way, either.
It fascinates me how different people are. Some people always surround themselves with others, and hate being alone. Yet I seek solace in being alone, and I actually think it's necessary once in a while.

Spending the day alone today, for the first time in a long time, I'm actually finding it quite liberating. However, to admit that you enjoy your own company, it seems, would be a bit of a sad occasion. I feel slightly embarrassed to admit that I enjoy my own company. However, that doesn't mean I place any less value on my friends, or am any less grateful for the company of others. But does it not just make me sounds like some sort of social recluse? (Which I kind of am, but that's beside the point.)
But there's just something about having some time to yourself that seems to mentally set me up for the next few weeks, where I will be surrounded by people once again, until the next time I get some time to myself. It almost gives me time to decompress.
Does this indicate then, that I have more difficulty than others in social situations? Is it as simple as there being two kinds of people in the world - those that thrive off the company of others, and those who don't?
If you really think about it - how do you react when you know you're going to be alone for a while? I don't think I can think of anyone else I know who likes to be alone.
But being alone almost gives me some sort of down-time, where I'm not distracted, so I can remember to appreciate things that seem to get overlooked when people are busy.
So today, it's me, my iTunes, and an empty house. And I shouldn't be afriad to admit that I'm kind of okay with that. Oh and by the way - I realise this is kind of an open invitation to burglars, but be warned, I am armed with a crazy hamster.

It’s not you, it’s me…

I know it's so close to Valentine's day, but I can't keep it in any longer. Despite the bad timing, readers, I regret to inform you that I'm contemplating giving up on my first love.
Yes, I've battled, contemplated, I've rode the highs and fought the lows, but my efforts may soon come to an end. There comes a time in most people's lives where they must face up to reality and give up on their first love. Mine, is ice skating.
The infatuation began when I was roughly ten years old, and ended about four years later.
However, the love always lingered, and roughly two months ago, after having to avoid the television whenever Dancing On Ice was on,  I decided to stop mourning after my lost hobby, so I got my skates on (sorry) and booked some lessons.
As I opened the bag to my beautiful ice skates and saw a bit of blood on the front of one boot, I knew I'd made the right decision. I can't describe the feeling I had returning to the ice. It literally felt like I had been reunited with a long-lost lover. I'm aware that I'm making myself out to be some Olympic skater, I'm really not, well, wasn't.
But the thing is, when I was younger, ice skating wasn't as popular. It felt like my little secret. I never let myself regret things. But even for the sake of this blog post, thinking 'what if?', is something I can't bring myself to contemplate.
Back on the ice, I felt frustrated. Whilst my skating was better than before, the frustration of not having the same level of balance, or even the same knowledge anymore was annoying.
And I won't go into the effort I've had to make - of course, it's been worth it, but over the last month I've battled with the universe in order to re-kindle my old flame. I've been on broken down trains, I've missed buses, I’ve spilled hot chocolate over myself, and I've had to take whole afternoons for 45 minutes of a lesson where I'm put into the wrong group.
Of course, I hadn't complained, until now.
Waking up at 7 o clock on a Sunday isn't my top on my list of favourite things to do, it isn't even in my top five, would you believe.
But last Sunday, I dragged myself up to go to the local rink to practice. Of course,even that had to prove difficult, and I remain stubborn in blaming public transport and not my lack of motivation to learn how to drive.
However, once I was on the ice, it was a sorry state of affairs. My self- confidence on the ice wasn’t great anymore, which was only to be lowered by 10 year olds spinning around me. So I left.
On the way home, tail and boots dragging between my feet, I wondered.. is persistence in not giving up always the best idea?
We're told to 'never give up', and success stories of people achieving their dreams, well, they didn't give up when the universe stuck two fingers up at them, either.
Returning to my childhood hobby, I was told 'it's never too late!' but I'm starting to think that… maybe, it is? I don't mean that in a self-pitying-looking-for-attention sort of way, but seriously, should I give up the dream? The problem is, you see, I'm an 'all or nothing' type. And whilst I understand that it'd take a lot of hard work to get back up to standard, I want to be there now. As much as it hasn't been practical, with all of the travel and cost, I really felt good about going after what I wanted, and not giving up. But as the high from that wears off, and I'm left with the constant challenges. Does chasing after a childhood dream become impossible once we learn of the the harsh reality of the world? Is there a time in life where we have to start thinking ‘realistically?’. Something else occurred to me the other day, which just emphasises my point : London...Newcastle...Alton Towers...Universities...concerts...even the cinemas, sometimes. They, amongst many other places, have one thing in common. They're crowded with people. Now, some of you may interpret somewhere that's busy as a good thing. But whenever I'm surrounded by people, I can't help but feel...ordinary and insignificant.
We're brought up being told that we're 'special', and it doesn't take much for us to feel it either. We're all quite willing to go along with being told that we're special.
However, there's nothing like waiting in a queue behind a mile of people,being someone's hundredth customer of the day, or walking down a busy street, to bring us back down to earth. As we grow older, are we supposed to come to terms with being one in six billion?
All it takes is one smooth talking boyfriend for a girl to feel special - but I've started to wonder, is anyone really that different?
Of course, we all have people in our lives that are unique to us, but as a whole, how do we differentiate from everyone else? Why is it that growing up is coupled with facing harsh truths? The world seems a much happier place when we’re younger, and we’re told we can be anything we want to be.
Children have happy, light-hearted books and television programmes intertwined with moral backgrounds to educate lightly. But maybe we need something of an adult equivalent to break to us the cold truths of the world.

‘I chose not to choose life: I chose something else’

Have you ever had that feeling, where something's put you in a great mood and it seems to set off good luck like a line of dominoes, and the world just seems to be a beautiful place? Well, I've learnt that that can happen the other way round, too. If something gets you down, that negative perspective seems to magnify all the other insignificant things that can go wrong, things that usually would go by unnoticed. For instance, finding out that I've just bitten into a seriously bruised apple, under normal circumstances, would result in a deformed noise and a 'head meets bin' moment. However, when there's something getting you down, these little things seem to be a bigger deal. I wrote off my whole day as being 'not my day' after this incident. Funnily enough, the day before that wasn't my day either, after realising I'd put my pants on inside out.

Well, I recently bored a friend to death talking though what's on my mind [see 'Scarf Girl' post for reference to said friend], it's made me wonder. Why can't we follow our own advice? Scarf Girl is particularly gifted when it comes to cheering me up and making the world seem like a brighter place again. However, when it comes to her own life, sometimes I wonder, 'if only she could listen her own advice...', but we don't, do we?

Why is it that we can listen to someone else's anguishes and know exactly what to say to gain perspective on the problem, and make it all better again? Whenever someone comes to me with a problem, which, understandably, isn't often, I dismiss them quickly with a 'it's not the end of the world, why let it worry you?', is that because I can see past what's worrying them? Either that or I'm just a bad friend...we'll stick with the former!
Friends can see your problems in the bigger picture, they know you from an outsider's perspective, when all you can do is focus on what's getting you down.                             

If a friend's nervous about something, I can tell them to calm down, tell them that they'll be fine and to enjoy themselves, and I find myself believing what I'm saying. However, if it were me suffering with the nerves, I'd be hopeless at calming myself down.                 

Scarf girl's recent consolation and advice has made me question- who do we listen to? We make decisions every day, every hour, even if most of them only consist of deciding when exactly to breathe next, they're still important. Sometimes, to make a decision, is to lead yourself down a completely different path full of other decisions, and sometimes, certain choices stay with you the rest of your life. How do we know when to listen to ourselves, and when to trust the instinct of others?
Sometimes it's hard to pinpoint the exact decisions that shape us. Many people are angered by homeless people that stare up at you, longingly asking for some change. People say 'it's their own fault, they made the decision to be homeless', and as much as that point of view angers me, it is kind of true. There must have been some point in their lives they thought 'I'm going to put alcohol before everything else', or 'I'm going to spend all of this money on drugs'. And whilst it isn't their fault, they have made decisions along the way that probably haven't helped their situation.                            

I've been researching, today, the reasons as to why people have such trouble being monogamous. I've found that, as nice an idea it is, it's not actually a natural act to stay faithful. So, basically, the perfect example of when we follow what other people demonstrate as being the right thing to do. The decision to decide what should influence your decisions is a decision in itself. With so many voices and views in the world, sometimes it would be nice to be told who to listen to.

Nihon no yume.

I went on a date tonight. With my friend/housemate/fellow journalist Lauren. We went to a Japanese restaurant to contemplate life and throw soy sauce all over ourselves (the latter part of that was just me, naturally). As I talked about my plans to live in Japan (something I do far too often), I got to thinking. What if it never happens? What if I'm bound to the north of England for the rest of my life?
Yesterday, as I walked down my street and saw someone I admire, who I won't name, looking back at me through a window - I think I experienced one of the worst feelings there is to experience - reality. What a horrible, horrible thing that is.
I live in a student house (obviously, being a student and all) so my street isn't exactly paradise.And someone I aspire to be like lives on the same street as me. And while that's good for him, it wouldn't be for me. Okay, so he probably has a lot more inside his house (and wallet) than I do but still.
I want to live in the kind of place that people go on holiday to, a place that makes people happy. Not the kind of place that sucks the life out of you, the kind of place with a road, a pavement and a lampost. I want beautiful things, beautiful Japanese things.
It's made me think; why is there so many people that are happy where they are? People that could go to the other side of the world if they wanted to but are happy down a little street in Lincoln? These kind of people, are they the type that can be content with life and that's it? I think I've already figured out that I'll never be completely happy.
I just can't comprehend how someone can live in a house, on a street, and have a job. And that's it. Okay, so almost everyone does that, so it obviously can't be that difficult to do.
As bad as this sounds, someone said to me last week that they had what felt like a black hole, one that they needed to constantly fill, but it was impossible to do. I found myself secretly agreeing with him. He was talking about his addiction to alcohol.
Do I need to go to the other side of the world because there's something missing? What is it that everyone has that I don't? If you're reading this -please enlighten me, you can find me in Tokyo. I'll be in a Sushi bar, talking about my dreams to go elsewhere.

''Life is what happens when you're waiting for a table''

One of my worst fears is turning into an adult. However, as I try my best to refrain from this ever happening, I can kind of feel my soul  already starting to drain away. I'm constantly thinking about the days ahead of me, and mentally timetabling in lectures, meetings, the gym, and all other adult-like activities my life has seemed to fill up with. You know you're turning into an adult when your conversations with people evolve from talking about bathroom-related jokes to talking about food shopping and essays.
 I think I'm starting to realise, it's the little things that aren't planned that keep me happy.
When I wake up and know what the day in front me is going to be like, I often wish I could do something to mess it up, do something to break up the routine and cause a bit of chaos. What's the point of living out a day if you know exactly how it's going to end?
If I look over the past few days, I know that, whilst I enjoy everything I do, the little moments in between the important stuff is what makes me smile.
 If you could plan your life out exactly how you want it to go, would you? Or is the element of surprise better?
It's just little things that are unexpected that really make me happy, for example, walking home from a night out last night resulted in me relieving my bladder underneath a lorry. Just something little (and a bit disgusting, I know) but it's things like that that make me feel young.
But as we let ourselves get weighed down by life's stresses, are we missing out on the little things that could make our day if only we paid attention? There's a  Sex And The City episode that comes to mind, which I think sums up what I'm trying to say; "life is what happens when you're waiting for a table" and, although you maybe need to watch the episode to make sense of it, I think it's very true, unfortunately.
Our lives pass us by without us realising, because we're so preoccupied with focusing on the future.
My 20th birthday is going to be a dark, dark day...I'm going to have to find another lorry to wee under to re-gain my youth. Where's Nevernever land when you need it...

Cous-cous anyone?

Apart from 'how drunk are you?', one question I get asked regularly at University is were I'm from. And, this may sound pretty stupid, but I don't really know how to reply, so I usually list a cocktail of places and move quickly on with the conversation. I mean, I live in Lincoln. But I also kind of live in Doncaster still (much to my disgust), but I was born at the opposite end of the country, and I lived somewhere else in between, too. And I can definitely see myself fondly calling London or Japan my home when I'm older.
It seems that the majority of people have lived in their home town until they came to University, whereas I just feel like a little lost soul sometimes, who doesn't really belong anywhere.
People from the North and South of England mostly seem to be proud of where they're from, but although I was born in and spent my childhood in Newcastle, I think I left my identity there when I moved away. Just listen to me speak, my accent and my vocabulary are mixtures of North, North East, Yorkshire...
In England, there are obviously certain stereotypes stuck to most places, and telling people where you're from can often lead to prejudice, good and bad. There are certain presumptions made of Northerners and Southerners, certain characteristics that are actually, usually quite true.
I think that I've missed out a little. My childhood was sporadically spaced out all over the place, there's no one place that gives me the warmth of familiarity and that 'home' buzz. And I think that that's a feeling everyone needs once in a while. I've always wondered what it must be like to live in the same place all your life before you go away to University. The feeling you get when you go home must be great - I'd give anything to go back to the house I first lived in. Or even to walk past my nursery school. To some people, these places are easily accessible, but to me they're a distant memory.
Some people have friends that they've known since they were a baby, but I don't have this kind of relationship with anyone. My longest friendship is roughly 8 years, and to me, that's an achievement. I can't comprehend what it must be like to live in the same place you grew up in.
My memories of early childhood seem so far away, because they are. When something happened so long ago, and so far away, it almost makes it seem unreal, it makes my childhood seem like it never happened. I'm sitting here now, in my room, listening to the squeaking of a hamster wheel downstairs in my rented student house, and it's real. But in 20 years time, when I'll (hopefully) have been all over the word - will I look back on my University years and find it hard to believe that they actually took place?
I think that having a sense of identity is essential, so does this make me less of a person? It might do, but I say 'cous cous' unlike anyone else, so therefore I'm special. And if that's took living in five different houses, so be it.

Shapes and contemplation.

I read a magazine article today that I really wish I hadn't. It was about how young adults, especially University graduates, are increasingly opting to live with their parents. I think if I was faced with the prospect of moving home after University, I'd not graduate until I'd done at least ten Master's degrees.
A week never goes the way I think it will, so there's no way any of us can plan where the rest of our lives will take us.
It made me wonder - who decides what to do and when in life?
Obviously, we go to school, and then we go to University or we get a job...but then what? What are those years in the middle meant to be filled out with? You know, the years in our late twenties, which seems to be when people travel, go after their dream job...or, just simply..don't.
And when it comes to the generic term I like to complain about a lot on my blog - settling down - why is it that most people seem to get married and have children around the same time? Okay, fertility and health reasons aside - why do the majority of us follow similar paths in life at the same time? People buy different cars, different houses and have different friends, but we mostly seem to have the same goals and simple pleasures. Would it be disgustingly generalising of me to say that most of the British population leave education, get a job, work their way up or change jobs, get on the property ladder, shoot out a few babies, and then retire and die? That sounded less depressing in my head, I can assure you.
It seems that we either follow the herd and settle down, or we resist the norm and we don't follow by example. I'd quite like to know - what is the average life like? And how do we resist doing things because it's what's expected of us? I'm not exactly saying I'd like to live in a tree and have monkeys that I call my 'babies', but I'd like to act outside of the box for a bit of my life.
 Without meaning to sound like an old man, it seems that life goes by so quickly, and no one tells you to slow down and savour it. My first year of University literally sprinted by, and although people warned me it would, I wish somebody had really, really told me to savour it.
So as much as I want to live outside of the box, there doesn't seem to be much point of doing so without really opening my eyes as I do it.

Blog post included.

Last weekend, I finally had that moment – the moment I think that everyone has at some point in their lives. It happened so suddenly, without warning. I didn’t think this moment would ever come; oh, but it did. And it was without a doubt, terrifying.
When it happened, I was walking down an empty street, and it was early Sunday morning. I had my best friend next to me, the wind in my hair, and I was looking forward to finding a warm , yet slightly crispy, croissant, smothered in raspberry jam (mental note: never going to happen in England).
A man, stood with a clipboard, wearing a waterproof jacket and annoying cheesy smile then shouted out to me ‘are you paying too much for your gas and electricity?’ And I smugly replied, ‘All included’ and we carried on in our (unsuccessful) quest for the perfect French breakfast. Now, this may not seem like some light bulb moment to you, but it was to me; as last weekend my said friend and I moved into our very own house.
Okay, so it’s opposite a second hand crap store, missing a few door handles and the whole house is on a tilt, but it’s our house. It’s a house! Come September, there will be three beautiful residents, and my recently grown up self. Okay, so spending three nights there included me spilling coffee, getting water up my nose and falling out of bed, but hopefully that’s never going to change.
Moving into my first house has made me realise that no amount of life’s lessons I’ve learnt, books I’ve read or birthdays I’ve encountered have made such an impact on me feeling like an adult as four (wonky) walls and a roof have. It’s also quite strange that up to this, I've been dragged to four other different houses that led none of the same effect. Maybe because this time, I'm going to have to fend for myself.
I guess for some people this moment could be a first car, or first grey hair maybe...
I’ve also stopped in my tracks several times as I’ve heard my own voice say things like ‘the bins need emptying’ and ‘I’m just going to unload the dishwasher first’, but these grown up phrases would sound just as foreign as if a dog were to say them. I think there comes a light bulb moment in everyone’s lives where they realise that they’re finally reaching adulthood, as I think the term is very much a mental state.
I wonder if you’ve had your moment yet. If not, prepare yourself, as I’m guessing I’m in for a long, boring future of more house work and less water up my nose. Well, at least I have some comfort in knowing that my bills are all included.

Jena se what now?

There's a lot of different types of people in the world - it doesn't take a genius to notice that. There's business people, outdoorsy people, rich people, poor people... but there's another type of people that I've noticed,one that no one really seems to talk about... And I want to understand it. It's a characteristic that only very few people seem to possess. That unexplainable presence. I think that if I could only have that quality, I'd get a lot further in life.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I have two words for you - Simon Cowell. He's nothing much to look at, but it seems that he's everyone's ideal man. Now, my first theory was that this unexplainable, blind desire that people have for Cowell is because of his power, his ability to shatter someone's hopes and dreams in one pretentious stare. However, I think what's more responsible is the fact that he has that quality - the one that you can't put your finger on, but it turns ordinary people into people that are incomprehensibly attractive. I don't mean just physically attractive, but that they attract everything. They attract people's attention, people’s thoughts, people’s time, and half of this time is taken wondering why they take up so much of your thoughts...
Now I guess the fact that this quality cannot be defined, the fact that it cannot just be acquired, is the reason that it makes these lucky people so attractive. And there’s the law of supply and demand I guess.
Do you still have no idea what I’m on about? Well, I could list the names of the people I believe to have the gene, but I think that the beauty of it is that it’s also a matter of opinion. Now I know I’m nothing special, but what if I could appear that way to the people I wanted to, could I get any job I wanted? More importantly, could I get ahead of people in queues?
You'll no doubt have some of these people in your life - people that aren't particularly that stimulating in any way, but you find yourself liking them a lot in spite of this... catching my drift yet? It's as if your subconscious mind likes them...and your conscious mind is blissfully unaware as to why.
I think the French hit the (french manicured) nail on the head with 'jena se qua'.

Sweet dreams...

I've been thinking recently, about what I imagine my life to be like in a few years time. It seems to consist mainly of writing, travel, and freedom. I can almost smell that beautiful scent that big cities carry, the one that I am dangerously addicted to.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I naively think that as soon as I graduate, I'm going to fall straight into my dream job, and live the life I know I want. I listen to friends tell me that they hope they can afford holidays when they're older, and that they want to win the lottery in order to be able to afford a nice house. They seem uninspired to me, however, importantly, they also seem grounded. Dreaming into the future has made me realise that I have my head so far in the clouds that I don't even think planes could interrupt me.
My imagination seems to predict a life of ease, effortless achievements and, quite frankly, my intelligence really doesn't have the good to back this up.
Doing a relatively easy and popular degree, with no exceptional grades, no impressive work experience and nothing else to make me stand out - what do I possibly thing I can achieve in life? What makes me so special? Well, as cheesy as it sounds, I believe that I want to achieve to the top of my field,I have the urge to inspire people, and I have the mindset that nothing will stop me, and that is what makes me an investment to any employee. I think that the mind is our most powerful tool, and with will power and motivation, surely me believing I will be successful is enough to set my future in stone?

In life, when do we have to stop dreaming and face reality? Does there come a day when we wake up and realise that life is a lot harder than we once anticipated? I know I'm stupidly positive on how I see my life unfolding, but can this not just be seen as endearing? Is it the right mind set to have in order to succeed? And why am I the only person I know that is like this? I'd rather shave my head then utter the phrase ' I think I'll leave University then work in an office for 10 years'.
But as I grow older, will I start to downgrade my hopes and dreams? I can't seem to comprehend why people don't aim for as high as their imagination will possibly let them. I mean, realistic thinking would probably work out in the long run - I'm only going to end up disappointed when I realise that it's quite difficult to be Editor of Vogue with my only work experience being in a Smoothie shop.

Jessica Brown is writing a blog.

Today I've been thinking about the cause of my theory, which is the following:
I think all human beings are becoming more introvert, we've all found something more appealing than human interaction, we're becoming a shadow of our former species, and it's all down to two words - social networking.
Now, how interesting would I be as a blogger, if I wasn't a disgusting hypocrite? Well, staying true to form, I'd like to admit that I have given preference to MSN, Myspace and Facebook over real, actual human interaction many times.
However, it seems that people would prefer to Twitter than talk, and the best way to keep up to date with those closest to us - is to check their Facebook status.
Now this point has probably been argued many times before - but are we loosing our social skills? It doesn't take much to type a message to someone, but face to face conversation...well there's so much to think about, the active listening, the eye contact, the witty responses and good advice...is it just too challenging? We've all seen the delight of being able to talk to people without getting out of bed - so what's the point in making such efforts if we don't really need to?
A few years from now, is it actually that far-fetched to predict that the norm will be to take a laptop everywhere we go - to sit in a business meeting and communicate to workers over instant messaging? Or that we'll go out for lunch with friends and balance our salads on our laptop so we can eat and talk to each other simultaneously? Are social skills like learning to ride a bike? Or are we in danger of possibly loosing the ability to talk face to face?
And where did this obsessive need come from to make sure everyone we know is updated with our daily lives - without the internet - would you still feel the need to tell your boss and your best friend's boyfriend that you're just about to have a shower?
I think that it has a lot to do with comfort - if we're feeling lonely it literally takes seconds to have someone to talk to. Can you even remember days without such luxuries? What did it take to talk to people? Cast your minds back to the time we used to ring people up at night time to talk, or visit friends when we feel the need to socialise; that wasn't so bad was it?
Just don't be surprised if you slowly see Facebook status' changing from 'is going shopping' to 'is walking down the isle, balancing blackberry and bouquet'.

Circle.

Coming back home for Summer, I already have seen it as a difficult challenge. It's given me perspective on my life at University - and made me realise that it's there that I am completely happy. Last night, I walked home from seeing a friend I haven't seen for a year. I realised, that I was walking home the exact same way the last time I'd seen her, about a year ago. I then remembered roughly 2 years ago, walking the same route again.
I tried to remember what I was feeling this time 2 years ago;I had recently experienced the loneliest time of my life, I had little friends, and made no effort to change that, even though I was very unhappy.
That night, I was walking home with a spring in my step(more than usual) and I remember vividly how I'd felt. I had just spent the afternoon with friends, and it was that very walk home that I realised my life was coming together, but that it was fragile and I needed to make efforts in order to stay happy - and I vowed never to take friendships for granted again. And then, last night, I realised that I have never broken this vow.
No matter how many people I'm with, or what I'm doing, I really appreciate and savor it. Maybe this is why I can say that University has made me truly happy.
If I hadn't had such a bad experience growing up - if I had never had to feel true loneliness before and watch other people have fun, would I be this way now?
I'm so thankful for every memory I share with friends - but is just because I know what it feels like to be the onlooker?
Do we need to have lost something before we can really appreciate it?
I'm sure you've had a headache before - and when you do I bet you think about how good it'll be once the headache's gone - and then as soon as it's gone - you take your analgesia for granted once again; is that a safe assumption? Thought so.
However, if your headache lingered every day for a whole year - once it disappeared I'm sure you'd be very grateful from then on. Is this why memories always seem better than the present? Think of your last holiday - I'm sure you think it was amazing, and you hope to have holidays just like it. Whenever you smell the sweet, life-saving scent of sun cream, you get a nostalgic twang. Another safe assumption?
However, this memory that you look back at so fondly... was it really that great? Or do you just yearn after it because you don't have it anymore? It's like a vicious circle - we can only really learn to appreciate something...once it's gone.Just something to think about... don't give yourself a headache, though.



'Give me the dust of my father
Stand on the face of the ancients
Bare the secret flesh of time itself

Follow me
I've come so far, I'm behind again
Follow me
I wish so hard I'm there again
Follow me

All that I wanted were things I had before
All that I needed I never needed more
All of my questions are answers to my sins
All of my endings are waiting to begin

Follow me
I've seen so much I'm blind again
Follow me
I feel so bad I'm alive again
Follow me'

Resourceful writing.

Resourceful - it's an interesting word, wouldn't you agree? Someone said this word to me yesterday, and it made me think. I have resources, and you have resources. These resources can make you do anything you want to do. And before you say it that really isn't an understatement.
I’m sure you have memories of feeling the best you’ve ever felt, if you only could really relive that feeling and apply it to your life now when you need motivation, I’m sure you’d get further than you think.
I've trying to improve my life. And by this I don't mean making a little list, or reading two chapters of a self help book. I mean, really applying myself to making my life better. I have a lot of obstacles I need to overcome, and it’s only my tiny little brain that can make this happen. My brain wants me to have the best out of life, but simultaneously stops me from doing this. I have the resources in my mind that can help me, but I don't think I'm resourceful enough.
I thought about the most successful and influential people in society - and I thought, they didn't get to be that happy from luck; it was their mind set, their determination and enough positive thinking to light a Christmas tree. But they only have the same resources as you and I.
We live in a negative world, and someone pointed out to me yesterday that signs on the motorway say -'Tiredness kills - take a break', why do they not say 'Take a break - and stay awake'? This made a lot of sense. Catching up with a friend last night made me realise the same thing, I interrupted her half an hour in to point out that we'd only spoken about the negative things going on in our lives.
I have a lot going on right now that I don't like- but I can't control. However, that isn't what's important, what's important is how I perceive these things. I therefore am trying to look at things in a more positive light - and focus on aspects of my life that I can control.
It's interesting to think that slow change isn't always what occurs - we can change the way we perceive the world in a second. All it takes is an activity in our brain, a slight electrical movement and things change.
If you take anything away from this blog entry - try to remember that you're in control of a lot more than you think - I've had a revelation and I believe I am going to take control and achieve what I want...and it's going to be good.

Bird watching.

I saw the most beautiful sight the other day. I saw a family of swans, literally hidden away in a world of their own. The (presumably) mother swan was sat on her nest, with her signets underneath her, amongst some unhatched eggs. I watched her gather some more sticks for her nest, as the father swan swam past and protectively looked around.
It was something I’d never seen before, and it made me think - am I missing out on the simple things?
I’ve never sat and watched a full sunrise, I’ve never seen ants carry leaves on their backs, and I’ve never watched cars speed down the motorway. The most I’ve ever (accidentally) witnessed is cats reproducing in the middle of a street.
As a nation, there’s evidence that we’re becoming increasingly faster paced. Will we reach our old age and realise that life passed us by? Will we regret not watching the clouds when we were younger and still had perfect eyesight to pick out the dinosaur clouds from the smiley faces? After all, the simplest things in life occur every day – so what’s the rush to see all of life’s beauty when we have the rest of our lives to do that?
All I can say is that the swan experience made me feel oddly calm and happy, it’s nice to revel in the simple hidden treasures that the world has sometimes.
If it was your last day on earth – what would you do? I mean, this is the world we live in; its resources have kept us alive, what would be the best way to savour its beauty? We see the sky every day, we smell freshly cut grass, and I think it’s safe for me to say that we don’t really care. However, if you had one last day before embarking on a diet, surely you’d eat a cake and savour it like never before? It’s only when something is being taken away from our lives, that we really appreciate it. If I knew I was going to be blind tomorrow – it would be the only circumstance in which I would happily stare at the Mona Lisa for an hour.
I’m aware that this is a quite soppy blog – but I can’t help how a few feathered birds getting on with their daily routine has affected me.

Karmody.

One of my favourite sayings when something undesirable occurs, is that 'everything happens for a reason'. Another well said phrase is when a person does something bad, and people seem to always say that they'll 'get what's coming to them one day'.
Is this just a way of making ourselves feel better after a bad day? Or is it actually true? Do nasty people always get what they deserve?
Obviously, karma isn't something that can be proven (or disproven), but how does it work exactly? Obviously if you kill someone you'll go to jail, but what about the insignificant little things of every day life?
The belief of karma consists of the idea that God acts as a dispenser of the 'fruits of karma'. Whether people do good or bad, the idea is that we shape out our own path in life. There also seems to be a diluted equivalent to karma in the teachings of Christianity.
If there was such a thing as karma, surely we'd all do things that would consequently then happen to us, and we'd all be going around in a giant circle, wouldn't we?
However, if you are not religious, what stops you from doing bad things? Surely if you believe in karma, isn't this just a selfish way of deciding to not harm others? The fear being that you don't want to be harmed in return?
I guess there's a bit of karma in all of our lives though, on some level. If you help others, and don't harm anyone, you'll probably find that people treat you well, and maybe your good character can help you at work. But that's as far as a I can see in terms of karma.
Coming from an atheist's point of view, there is simply no way to comprehend how karma can exist. It does however, seem a nice thing to believe sometimes. If you do something that's deemed as bad, you obviously deserve the same to happen to you. It's a nice idea amongst many nice ideas religions have. But, sadly, that's not always how the fruits of karma crumble.

The London effect.

To most people, a weekend trip to London would be exciting... a little bit of a change... maybe quite educational. But to me, a weekend trip to London has left me questioning everything, it's left me scared, depressed, motivated and most of all, it's made me feel hopeful.
London is filled with hopes and dreams (amongst about 30 million Union jacks and 40 million postcards).
My mini holiday included visiting a couple for dinner who resided in the most beautiful home. They were successful in their jobs, and it seemed that they were always surrounded by friends and dinner parties; they even bought their cats Tesco's Finest cat food.
I felt this sensation deep in my stomach, and something told me it wasn't the chick pea puree they had laid out. It was dissatisfaction, it was yearning. Not that their beautiful food hadn't filled me, but I knew that going back home wouldn't be good enough for me anymore.
Needless to say, I obviously left London due to insufficient funds and a train ticket I couldn't have wasted.
London is unbelievably busy, it's smelly and dirty in places, and so many people bumped into me on the street that I have actual bruising. but I loved every second of it. I thrived off it. No one looked average, everyone looked interesting, beautiful, or really really ugly. It was so exciting, I don't know how anyone can settle for anything less.
I know that people who live there would say 'what's the big deal? I'm used to London', but I don't think I could ever get accustomed to such a City. London felt like the centre of the world to me. And reading a newspaper whilst I was there was weird, as pretty much everything mentioned was taking place in London.
If there was any way to describe the word 'life', it would be the streets of our wonderful Capital.
I think that I could be happy simply roaming the streets on London all day, just taking in the beauty, the people from all over the world, the amazing architecture.
And I got a free Chinese newspaper, where else in England can you get one of them!?

Mad World.

''All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere. The tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no expression. Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow''.



Along with many other of my amazing cognitive processes, I find my memory quite fascinating. Sure, I habitually wake up after vodka-fuelled shenanigans with about five hours of the previous night erased completely from my mind. But I’ve learnt that my memory is very effective with a little help from association. In particular, certain songs can really, really take me back to a specific moment in my life. It’s made me wonder – do we like certain things just because of what we associate them with? Certain songs take me back to previous summers, or holidays, and some remind me of people. Now, do I really still like the songs, or just the warm, nostalgic buzz they give me?
I once read that our sense of smell is our strongest trigger of memory, however, for me, songs are more personal; the smell of freshly cut grass reminds me of so many summers that when I smell it now, I’m faced with so many images of barbeques and bees that my head spins.
Another example is food. Remember Jelly tots? Or that multi coloured cereal that tasted like it had rained down from heaven straight into your Tinkerbelle bowl? If we ate them now, I’m sure they wouldn’t be half as exciting anymore, but they’d still be the best thing ever, simply because of association. And how about the song you can’t listen to because it reminds you of a past partner? I’m sure we all have one of them, no matter how much we want to be able to listen to it impartially.
For me, it’s the sound of the Beach Boys. Listening to them fills me with the smell of fields and petrol, and I remember years ago when weekends were spent on family outings, listening to them in the car. This, of course, was back when I could refer to my family as ‘moderately functionable’- just like my portable CD player, (remember those?) which I used to drown out the sound of ‘Good Vibrations’.
I'm sure that me reeling out my memories isn’t going to be the most entertaining thing you’ll read today – but there’s a certain song that reminds me of my Grandmother – who died almost exactly one year ago today. I remember listening to it whilst she pottered away in the kitchen, calling me in every so often to point out when a new bird had flown into the garden. At the time, I didn’t really listen to the lyrics of the song, but ironically, they seem to fit perfectly with my coping of losing her. The song wouldn’t have had any effect on me if I don’t remember so clearly listening to it when I was graced by her company. But now, it makes me instantly hysterical. I almost get lost in the memory of listening to it, before I’m snapped back to reality and realise it’s just a song.
Music has a way of accelerating any mood, bringing back any memory, and making any moment ten times better. I definitely think though, that if we didn’t have memories associated with certain songs or bands, that we wouldn’t like them half as much as we would if we remember happy memories of listening to them.
If you’re lucky, and if you happen to be listening to music right now, you might hear the same song again in a few days time and remember that time when you wasted ten minutes of your life reading that weird blog post that had no real sense of direction... and you’ll feel all warm inside :)

Life's a box a chocolates...

I think it would be a lot better if, sometimes, life could go in slow motion. Just like it does in films before the two main characters kiss for the first time.

I used to wish that life was better, I yearned for spontaneous days filled with friends, laughter and childish adventures. I wanted to be surrounded by familiar people and be confident in front of them all, and I wanted to never be lonely. Well recently, this has pretty much been the case. But the worst thing that could happen is that I take all of this for granted.

In order for me to explain what I mean, think of your favourite kind of chocolate. As soon as you’ve finished this metaphorical chocolate, you start to crave it again. You can’t stop thinking about the velvety texture and the heavenly taste. Yet you don’t remember savoring it as much as you could have whilst you were eating it.

When life seems a bit empty, you start to want your favourite chocolate, well, you know what I mean. I’m so afraid of losing the friends I have, I’m so scared that this fun will speed by me that I find it a little difficult to relax and enjoy the ride. Life’s full of little ironies like that, isn’t it?

Ecstacy.

Do you ever have them nights? You know the ones I mean, the one’s where, for no known reason, you can’t sleep, your mind races, you listen to old songs and interpret them in ways you never have before. When you want to talk to everyone but you have no idea what you want to say. Well, maybe that’s a bit too detailed, but it’s the night I’m having.
When I started this blog, I certainly wanted to steer clear of emotional rambling, accounting my daily business and my emotions. However, whilst I want to side-step this, having no real structure in my head, I apologise now if that’s how this entry turns out.
I’ve been feeling something recently that I can only describe as ‘indescribable’.
I’m reading a book, and lately, I’ve felt a lot more connected to it. I’m always restless, as if I want to go somewhere I’ve never been and do something I’ve always wanted to do, but the need has been more intense recently. I’ve always needed my friends, but I feel like I need them more right now, for no apparent reason.
It seems that recently, I’ve felt an emotional barrier that only alcohol, hormones, or sleep-deprivation can overcome. Looking at my life through rose/alcohol tinted glasses seems to surface thoughts never realised. You could call this alcohol dependency, I see it making light of a bad situation.
Anyway, enough of my incoherent babble. I actually read today that research has found that personality characteristics could be identified from appearance. Being the little weirdo that I am, I often look at strangers and wonder about them and their lives. Everyone has their story to tell, don’t they? That’s one aspect of journalism I look forward to in my career, you can talk to anyone, and they’ll always have an interesting story to tell, one that Hollyoaks’ script writers couldn’t even dream up. But people’s personalities have so many dimensions, and even though one picture paints 1000 words, I don’t think that anyone’s face can do their whole personality justice.
I also read quite a lengthy article today about love. (I don't normally read this much stuff in one day). It was arguing the physiological and the emotional aspects of love. The part of the brain where activity takes place when you’re in love is the same area activated when you take cocaine. In other words, that feeling, when people claim they ‘just know’, when they vow to spend their lives together, they’re all based in the same part of your brain that feels false elation in reaction to an illegal substance. If that’s not romance, I don’t know what is.