“Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.”

Flicking back through the last eight weeks of photographs is like taking a trip in a time machine. I will never forget how scared I felt the first day I moved in; how nauseated at the thought of leaving and in that moment if we had turned the car around I would never have gone. I listened to so much Beyoncé on that journey. “I’m not afraid,” I told myself over and over again. “I’m not afraid of anything.” I replied to good luck texts from my friends with shaky hands and refused to cry or think about home.

It took one look at my university bedroom and the equally, secretly, terrified faces of my new flatmates and everything was fine. Someone brought cake, the rest of us fetched our alcohol, music playing, and suddenly we’re laughing, we’re happy, we’re all going to be okay. Someone else went to Reading festival in the summer, someone else worked at Leeds. We talk about Arctic Monkeys, A-levels, who hasn’t lost their virginity somewhere in the blur of the last few years of teenagehood, play never-have-I-ever - all lying of course - and spell out our names as we save each others numbers. We wander out, elated, to explore our new world of libraries and bars, concrete steps, a campus of new experiences awaiting us in the morning but we can’t wait for that, we want it now. Snapchat, “have you seen this TV show…” falling over, spilling ciders, walking home. I climb in through a window in our building, fall up the stairs, smiling. Hangovers follow, medicated by mugs of tea. Milk and one sugar, are we becoming friends? (Yes.)

Two months have flown by; a blur of drinking and dancing and attempts at cooking, movies and arguments and laughing, never quite getting enough sleep or enough coffee. It’s not quite a home, this funny flat with the bedroom doors that stick and the mouldy showers and the fridge that’s too cold and the freezer that’s permanently melting. It’s not a family, this weird group of people, thrown together and suddenly alone, supposedly independent. Some of us only share in birthday meals and chip in for washing-up liquid; some of us drink tea at 2am together and watch TV in each other’s rooms, advising and teasing on everything on the colour of shirts, to who’s turn to clean, to who had who in their room being noisy last night. And that’s okay, everything’s always okay, or it will be in the morning or one day, far in the future, when I’ve got a drink in my hand and a funny story to tell. It’s always okay.

House hunting, walks to Aldi, figuring out the laundrette, homesickness, fresher's flu, far too many tins of soup and spaghetti hoops consumed. Visits from family, trips home, adventure, stress, panic and laughter. Essays written, seminars endured, lectures napped through. Coffee drunk, tweets written, instagrams posted. Whiskey, vodka, Jager, Malibu, vomit and alcohol poisoning. Too many pizzas to count. Halloween, Bonfire Night, passing by in a blur. Suddenly it's nearly Christmas and I feel as if I've lived here forever.

University is somehow everything and nothing like I imagined; exactly as I knew it would be and also in another universe. Even when life feels terrifyingly new and upside down and fragile and I remember how far away I am from home, its so good, this learning how to be a person stuff. This tumble-driers and microwaves, budget, student, train tickets, "adult" stuff. Cigarette smoke on cold November evenings, sparkles in the sky, the smells of winter, soft sweaters and hugs, more music than my ears know what to do with. Fairy lights, to-do lists, poster sales, endless, endless books. Sometimes I get sad of course and when I do I listen to music and read messages in my yearbook and miss my family - who half the time are somehow capable of infuriating me from miles across the country - and my friends - because a million messages and texts and Skype sessions are just never the same as being in the same room and laughing so hard you need to pee with people who've known you forever.

It’s as if one day I woke up and someone handed me my brand new life. An adventure, just like I always wanted.

#DRUNKSELFIES

I'm sure everyone's aware by now of the #nomakeupselfie #cancerawareness trends on social media. I've had my rant about the attention seeking nature of this idea - if you want to post a selfie, go ahead, the internet is already full to bursting of them and one more can't hurt - just don't dress it up as raising awareness. Frankly, it's insulting to those who suffer with the disease. Make a donation, send a tweet and carry on with your day, in my opinion. 

However I've been won over by arguments that the trend has actually raised a huge amount of money and okay, I grudgingly admit that it does seem to be working. Which is obviously fantastic news and part of the reason I decided to write this piece. Cancer Reseach does already have a huge amount of focus on it and I'd like to distract your attention from all of the lovely foundation free photos all over your  twitter feeds and facebook walls just for five minutes. 

Alcohol selfies. My phone is full of them, my twitter and Instagram feature a fair few and I'm sure yours and your friends' do as well. Selfies with wine glasses, pints, cocktails and shots. Selfies getting drunker and happier and messier as you scroll through your camera roll. Memories of laughing at the pub, of dancing, clubbing, being silly, and having fun. Amazing times with people you want to remember forever and the odd one or two nights you wish everyone could conveniently forget. (For me, it's the New Years Eve I mixed vodka with rum, threw up in my sisters bedroom bin and spent the first hours of the year hugging a toilet... thank god there aren't photos of that.) 

However the majority of our drunk selfies are the opposite of this. Far from embarrassing they are awesome and funny; great reminders of all the stupid things we did and the faces we thought looked attractive after two or three (or five or six) drinks... We'll save regret for the hangovers. 

So I'm suggesting we do something for good with these selfies too. You may not know this unless you know me well, as it's not something I like to go on about too much. My dad passed away in 2009 due to alcohol related chronic illness. There were other complications of course as well, but alcoholism was his official diagnosis and alcoholic liver cirrhosis his cause of death, if you want to get medical. 

Drinking is fab and fun and a brilliant thing to do most of the time but like everything in life there are cases where it gets out of hand. And when it does it can be one of the hardest diseases to cure. This is partly due to the stigma of addiction not being treated as a disease and the relative decline in the level of medical care you then receive, partly because of the addictive quality of the substance that is slowly killing you, partly due to socio-economic reasons (it's more common among adults with higher levels of stress in their working lives, which TENDS to come in lower income brackets..) Anyway. 

Alcohol Concern is a fantastic organisation working in the UK to help combat this problem: both with teenage drinking and alcoholism which tends to be more of an adult condition. They're a charity that deserve recognition too. Alcohol is another factor that can lead to some cancers and in general, thinking about your alcohol intake is always a good thing to be doing. 

So my suggestion is, maybe if the #nomakeupselfie #cancerawareness campaign isn't your cup of tea (or intoxicant of choice..) to give your drunk selfies a chance to do more than be hilarious, hangover inducing and humiliating pixels, stored on your phone or laptop and bring them out to share with the world of the internet while raising awareness of alcoholism. If you can, no pressure, why not make a donation to Alcohol Concern, Cancer Reseach UK or any other charity you'd prefer? Studies have shown that alcohol directly contributes to 1 in 30 of all cancer deaths worldwide and causes up to 1,400 itself annually. You never know how much difference your £1 could make to someone's life xoxo 

 

"Welcome to the Dallas Buyer's Club."

"Let me give y'all a little news flash. There ain't nothin' out there can kill fuckin' Ron Woodroof in 30 days."
 

Yesterday, seeing as I've made it a mission in my life to watch all of the Oscars Best Picture nominees before the awards show, I went to see Dallas Buyer's Club. I came out of the movie feeling emotional, conflicted, kind of angry and also with this peaceful sense that I'd just had a bucketful of incredible life lessons thrown at me.

"I swear it, Ray, God sure was dressin' the wrong doll when he blessed you with a set of balls."

Usually it take me a while to feel I want to write about a book, an experience or a movie. Not this time. I was composing sentences of this post in my head as I walked out of the cinema, scribbling notes on my phone as I raced home and grabbing my laptop as soon as I got through the front door.

"I've been looking for you, lone star."

The story of Ron Woodroof, played by Matthew McConaughey, follows a homophobic Texan cowboy through his diagnosis with HIV, his denial and anger, his fight with the state and the government's medical authorities over non approved but life saving drugs, his friendships, loves and losses and his complex path to increasing acceptance and tolerance of difference.

 

"Oh, I'm the drug dealer? No, you're the fuckin' drug dealer. I mean, goddamn, people are dyin'. And y'all are up there afraid that we're gonna find an alternative without you."

It deals with the "othering" and cruel, thoughtless rejections he experiences from people he thought were his friends. It discusses the pointlessness and corruption - or maybe just simple incompetence - of the federal response to the AIDS crisis. It handles all of the sudden messiness of an illness that seems to spring out of nowhere and the horror of fighting something so insidious all the while with the society you live in blaming and passing judgement on you for your perceived "wrongdoings;" with no one on your team, no one in your corner.

Rayon: "This guy says that the Florida Buyers Club is cheaper."
Ron: "Well then, tell him to go back to the FUCKIN' SUNSHINE STATE!"

It's no spoiler to the film to state that Ron does eventually pass away - because while HIV does not constitute a death sentence (although being born of course does...) it does bring your unavoidable and final end that bit closer.

 

"A little tequila, sunshine and tacos never hurt anybody."

Essentially, in my opinion, death is one of the least fucked-up elements of the condition of being human. All I or anyone else can promise you that is completely and inescapably true, is the fact that one day you will cease to be alive, just like everyone else who has ever taken a breath on this earth.

"Would you stop starin' at her tits, Rayon, you're startin' to look normal."

This truth should, rationally, be followed by the acceptance of its inevitability. But humans are scared by death. We spend our lives running from it, grieving it, crying over it and yet we are still somehow still surprised when it catches up with us or those we love.

"That shit is purer than a preacher daughter's pussy, right there."

 

I have more familiarity than I would like with death. I don't claim to know very much about the HIV virus or Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) but I have seen several of my family members lose their battles with cancer, with liver disease and organ failure and simply with old age. I've held their hands while they lay in hospital or hospice beds and I think this qualifies me enough to say that the film's depiction of these realities was accurate and moving.

"You know what? You don't deserve my money, you homophobic asshole."

I know what dying people look like: the way their muscles shrink and their yellowing skin shrivels, hanging from skinny limbs. I know the smells and sounds of hospitals: antibacterial hand soaps, the harsh stench of medicines, steadily sloshing drips and the glugging churn and whir of dialysis systems. I've seen their tired, reddening eyes grow a little more scared with each slow, painful day until the blissful relief of unconsciousness. And while it was sad to see these facts reflected back from a cinema screen, it's also a relief to remember how normal, how everyday and unremarkable even, it all is.

"Mr Woodroof, I'm afraid that you're nothing more than a common drug dealer..."

However, watching this film also reminded me of how much the benefits are worth the effort of being aware and careful of what you put into your body. You shouldn't be blindly trusting of what anyone else tells you about something as personal as your own health, your own existence, your own death, in fact.  Not doctors, not governments - as no one knows better what is best for you and what your own unique and individual cells and tissues need than you yourself do. Having independence over what you allow to go into your system completely affects your power to control how you feel and how well or sick you are.

"I like your style, doc."

I loved so much about Dallas Buyer's Club. I loved the script and the moments when I laughed, the scenes that made me cry, the actors - including Jared Leto and Jennifer Garner - being amazing and vulnerable and real at the same time as playing characters so flawed and deep and unconventional. I loved how graceful and kind they were to one another; how there was warmth and humour, love and family even in the middle of terrible pain and addiction and the random unfairness of disease.

"Congratulations... fuck off and go back to your bed."

Basically, what I'm trying to say, is that you should definitely not let my ramblings about death put you off and that you really, really, really need to see this film.

xox

Laughing through your tears...

There's this story I have from when I was little - the kind of age when you wear flowery dresses over jeans and princess welly boots without even thinking about it; the age when best friends are forever and ever; the age when boys are smelly, the tooth fairy really was real and school involved colouring in as actual lessons - the kind of age, essentially, before life has any consequences whatsoever. I must have been five or six - and I clearly remember this bit even now - I was lying upside down on the sofa, probably watching CBeebies (who remembers that?!) as the phone rang. One of my two bestest best friends had been hit by a car. I remember my mum telling me she had been knocked over so hard she flew feet into the air. I remember she had broken more bones that I knew the names for. I remember it was quite unlikely she might get to carry on being alive.

She did, luckily, and get to live on and finish off being ages six and seven and eight and grow up happily ever after (as far as I know - sadly we lost touch when she moved away.) But having that happen to your child, to your big sister - and even to your best friend - is something hard to deal with, especially at age six, when life has never been quite this serious before. She should have been giggling in the playground and chasing her constantly escaping pet rabbits round her back garden. She shouldn't have been in an ambulance with flashing lights and having paramedics tell her mum that if she didn't survive the journey to hospital, she might not get her daughter back. She - if you want to get really picky - definitely shouldn't have run out into the road. The one road in our town where people drive as if they think they're on a motorway. But you don't know these things, not when you're six.

I made her a get well soon card - as soon as we knew this was definitely going to be an option - wrote xoxoxox inside in smudgy felt tip pens, coloured in the outside, and as a last thought, added a message in messy, primary-school, joined-up handwriting. Something along the lines of.... feel better soon, love from Jessica. Oh and P.S. This chocolate is for you but if you don't feel like eating it you can always give it back to me at school. Innocent, six-year old logic. My parents dropped it off at the hospital for me and her dad told them it was the first thing that had made them laugh since the accident.

This tiny, random memory colours so much of my attitude to life now I'm older. I'm just as bad as anyone else at using the phrase "let me know if there's anything I can do." We're all guilty of it, when a friend needs help, when someone is ill or has lost someone or even is just having a rough time. I should try harder not to say it though - I know first hand just how irritating this meaningless combination of words can be - even when meant with the best intentions, in cards saying "With Sympathy," with bunches of flowers that slowly die, from faces that just don't know what else to say.

Do something. Don't ask the sick person, or the family that have just lost someone "if there's anything they need." Of course they need something - they need their daughter out of the hospital, or their friend not to be dying or for the person they love to be alive and well. So do something, don't ask. Even if you just buy them some chocolate. Or make them a cake, everyone loves cake. And then you've done something and you don't have to say those meaningless words any more. Make people laugh, even when they're sad, Actually, especially when they're sad. Laugh through your tears and they dry a lot faster.

xox

Procrastination....

It's a truth (pretty much) universally acknowledged that the only time I ever want to sit down and write on this blog is when I should be revising/writing an essay/insert activity that I'm supposed to do to pass exams, leave sixth form and be allowed to live an adult existence. (Yes, that was a Jane Austen quote... sorry.)

 

It feels so strange that in just a few weeks I'll be 18 - and legally allowed to do basically anything - but still live in exactly the same way, going to lessons, arguing with my family, being stressed about UCAS. Life isn't going to change dramatically in any way at all, which doesn't help to explain why I'm dragging my heels so much right now.

 

Learning things - for some reason - feels entirely pointless. This is an incredibly bad time for this to happen. In September, I and everyone else currently aged 17/18 and wrestling with the annoyingness of the UCAS track and admissions offices, will supposedly be heading off to university. Towns all over the country will be filled up with new students, cars full of families dropping them off and driving away waving goodbye, anxious parents, brand new friends, duvet covers, posters on the walls of new rooms.

 

Nights out in cities seen with fresh eyes because the high street isn't the same one you've been wandering up and down since you were 14. Cooking meals and doing laundry feeling exciting for some bizarre reason - because you're doing it all by yourself. Lectures, independence, student loans, new experiences and homesickness (even if you won't admit it...) On one hand I wish it could all start next week, but on the other I am honestly, really, completely freaked out.

I should probably also stop dealing with the anticipation of this by refusing to be motivated to work. You can tell its a real bad mood when inspirational quotes aren't helping...

xox

LES MIS

Ever since I first heard of Les Miserables, I have been fascinated and a tiny bit obsessed with it. I sobbed my way through it more than once in the cinema, insisted on helping out with every show when my school performed the musical - just to get to be there and watch it each night - and was given both the film soundtrack and a copy of the original book for my 17th birthday. Although at the moment the (huge) chunky text is sat being quietly ignored on my bookshelf - its about 7,000 pages long, okay?! - I've definitely been inspired to attempt to read it now. Maybe when I've watched the movie once more...

 

Anyway, yesterday, December 23rd, I was lucky enough to go and see the musical in the West End. I've been hoping this would happen for about two or so years now so it was a completely amazing experience. The show recently moved to Queen's Theatre and is now the longest running musical in the world. We booked tickets really last minute so ended up being sat at the back of the stalls, which isn't ideal as you can't really see the top of the barricades from there. However, the singing, the actors, costumes, sets and everything else about it made it so incredible that I stopped noticing the fact that some of the characters looked like they didn't have heads and I'm already planning to go again sometime.

I think the reason so many people all over the world love this show so much is because of how relatable it is. That may sound strange, given that the whole thing is set in revolutionary France, and we like to think the world has moved on since then. But all of the different bits of plot, the complicated lives of all the characters, mean that whatever you have experienced in your life, you can see a little bit of it in Les Mis. There are so many different relationships, so many themes going on, and the story is universal, ending with a message of hope, even when surrounded by death.

It's fair to say that Les Miserables isn't the most "happy" musical you could imagine - it's name is basically French for: "The Miserable Ones" after all - which is why the comic parts of it are so important. The audience sat up a bit straighter when the Thenardier's came on stage and their songs are the most entertaining by far. The contrast of laughing at them and enjoying the humour in their scenes makes you appreciate the sadness of the deaths of several characters and feel that you are on an emotional rollercoaster - everything from danger, fear, love, anger, redemption and finally hope are explored throughout the nearly 3 hour running time. It might be a long musical but it seemed to go by seriously fast. I felt like the curtains had only just risen when the actors started taking their bows to a standing ovation. My eye makeup was cried off down my cheeks by the middle of Act 1, I literally had to force myself not to start singing along and I can honestly say I hoped it would never be over. If you ever get the chance to see Les Miserables, definitely say yes! It's an experience you will never forget; you'll find yourself humming the songs weeks later, wishing you could see it for the first time all over again.

Thank you...

Thursday November 28th 2013. Today is Thanksgiving, in the USA and Canada. Traditionally celebrated on the fourth and last Thursday of the month, the holiday was originally a harvest festival and is now an opportunity for people to spend time with their families and those they love, share food and appreciate what they are grateful and thankful for in their lives. Or if your name is Joey or Monica, to shove a giant uncooked turkey onto your head... oh Friends references. Of course many people take issue with Thanksgiving, arguing that, as it is essentially a holiday celebrating the destruction of Native American people and their homes and communities, its a bit ridiculous, hypocritical and insensitive of everyone else to spend the day roasting turkeys, consuming pumpkin pies and watching football games and parades. I think this is probably true to a certain extent, but at its heart I think Thanksgiving is a really lovely idea. If you can ignore the aspects that you may personally disagree with, and enjoy the spirit of it: being grateful for what is good in your life, and appreciating how lucky you are, then there are a lot of benefits to be found.

Its quite sad that we don't celebrate in the UK. In my opinion we could all do with feeling grateful a bit more often. I know I spend so much time thinking about the future, the things I wish would happen, the things I want, the expectations I have, that I barely ever take the time to think about what is good about right now, in the present. Not to sound incredibly cheesy and annoying, but we are all pretty lucky. Most people have roofs over their heads, families and friends who love them, exciting things to look forward to. I think its nice to spend a day enjoying those things rather than obsessing over everything we could potentially do or have at some unspecified time in the future. To be honest the worst things I have to worry about are not life threatening or even that bad at all: getting a job, trying to learn enough to pass my A-levels, hopefully going to university. And although everyday life gets boring and stressful, and November is a horrible month, and getting out from under your duvet in the morning is a challenge and sometimes you just have a bad day, thinking about all the good things about life is the best way to make yourself feel happy again.

 

I'm happy that Christmas is now less than a month away. I'm grateful for my bed being really warm and snuggly so I can hide from the world with cups of tea when I'm feeling ill. I'm thankful for all the stuff that I love that makes me happy, like all the covers of Love is on the Radio with Carrie and Giovanna. And this Taylor Swift song. And just for YouTube in general and Twitter and the fact that I have lots of blogs to read. And Rookie and Humans of New York for making me feel better about humanity. I'm excited for all the things I have planned for the next couple of months. I'm happy that I watched this video earlier today and that it gave me the idea to write this. (I'm also thankful for lots of the same things... Harry Potter, socks, tea and coffee, just to name a few.) And make up. I'm very grateful to whoever invented mascara and concealer and bronzer and all the other stuff that means when I get basically no sleep I don't have to look like an actual zombie, despite feeling like one.

What are you thankful for today? Happy Thanksgiving!

Lets all laugh at the bands I like.....

So my friend Robyn wants me to answer some question about my music taste... which is obviously because it's so great and not at all because she wants to laugh at me. I don't see anything wrong with the fact that I love Mcfly, The Killers and (not even that secretly...) Kanye West, along with the Arctic Monkeys, Biffy Clyro and Nirvana. I'm just all about encouraging diversity... mainly on my iPod, and yes, I did just put it on shuffle and the first song that came on was Starlight, by Taylor Swift. What do you mean you don't like that song...?!?!

Anyway...

Which bands/artist do you own the most albums by?
I own everything recorded by The Killers and I think all the Biffy Clyro albums as well. I also have a whole lot of Taylor Swift OF COURSE. As well as that I have tons of my dad's music - so basically a lot of Oasis and Bruce Springsteen albums. I told you it was diverse...

What was the last song you listened to?
I'm writing this while watching the Gilmore Girls, but the last thing I listened to was either Vampire Weekend's album Modern Vampires of the City, Boys in Books, by Carrie Hope Fletcher or a band called Moose Blood that I discovered the other day. Someone I follow on twitter posted a song by them and I listened and fell in love with the lyrics....

I guess I'll never know why you closed the window,
Start reading Hemingway, start drinking cups of Earl Grey
then I guess maybe one day.. I'll be yours forever....

What’s in your CD player right now?
I don't have a CD player anymore - who does?! - but I used to and I miss it to be honest. I still own loads of CDs and mostly I just cut up the sleeves to add to my wall of posters and tickets. The last thing I played from my iPod speakers was The Velvet Underground & Nico's debut album, from 1967.

What was the last show you attended?
The last concert I saw was Biffy Clyro who played a show in my town at G-live on October 28th. It was amazing, the band were incredible, the crowd were insane, I crowd surfed for the second time and basically just had a great night. They are such an good band live, definitely see them if you ever get a chance to.

What was the greatest show you’ve ever been to?
That's a really hard question because every show I've been to was amazing at the time. I think the best one ever was when I saw The Killers at the O2 in 2012 with my best friend. My mum came to it with us - because we share our amazing taste in bands - and her dad bought us the tickets and I have honestly never been so excited for anything in my life. We had seats right up high but even though the arena is huge, the atmosphere was fantastic. We screamed and danced to every song and even though the tour was for their Battle Born album, they played tons of their old stuff and loads of my favourite songs. I think they started with Mr Brightside and from start to finish it was the loudest show I've ever seen, despite how far away we were. In fact I think my ears are still ringing just thinking about it. I'm wearing the tour t-shirt right now. Okay, definitely the best show I've seen. A close second was when I went to Mcfly, I'm not joking: I laughed, I cried, I danced and it was fab.

 
What’s the worst show you’ve ever been to?
Hmm, its either the time I ended up seeing a really terrible scream band for reasons I do not remember, possibly temporary insanity. Anyway it was awful and we ended up leaving mid-way through... trust me, we didn't miss much. Or it was one of the various shows I've seen with my family at the music festival in the tiny town where my grandparents live. Think of granddads with beards and banjos, and although its fun to go and see my cousins and go to the beach, its not exactly my idea of musical heaven.

What’s the most musically involved you have ever been?
I used to do dance and performing arts (before I became a teenager and realised I should never be seen singing in public EVER) and we used to do loads of shows and at the time it was really fun. I was in Annie as a little orphan kid, a show called "Simply The Best!" (don't even ask..) and one for my dance school's 25th anniversary celebration. Try not to laugh too much but one time we had to wear clown outfits.... while singing. I know, I know, I was like twelve at the time, its all in the past.

What show are you looking forward to?
I'm just about dying of excitement to see Taylor Swift in February on the Red Tour. I'm planning on buying a t-shirt, a poster, any other merch I can get my hands on, dancing like a crazy fan-girl, taking a million and one pictures, completely freaking out and singing along to every song.

What is your favourite band shirt?
Either my Killers t-shirt which is beautiful and really soft and lovely or my gorgeous new Twin Atlantic t-shirt. I have a thing for Scottish bands at the moment and I saw them at Reading Festival this year. They did a really good set, despite it being a bit rainy and I ordered the t-shirt online, rather than spend my train fare home buying it at the festival, although trust me, I was tempted to. The only other one I have is Nirvana, but its too big for me and doesn't have memories attached to it of actually experiencing the band. It is pretty though!

What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?
I would love love love to meet Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys because I am just completely in love with him so I could say him, but there are so many other options too! Like its a really obvious answer but everyone would want to meet Kurt Cobain (obviously impossible) and personally I would want to hang out with The Killers or Stevie Nicks. I also really got into Haim recently and they seem really cool and fun as well as talented, so that's another one.

Who is one musician or group you wish would make a comeback?
I would love for Oasis to reform! And I wish Lou Reed wasn't dead, I got into him via The Killers because his vocals are on one of the tracks from Sam's Town and his voice and lyrics are brilliant.

Who is one band/artist you’ve never seen live but always wanted to?
I've never seen Arctic Monkeys and I've wanted to for ages, hopefully I will do one day. There are lots I'd like to have seen, and sadly one of the members is usually dead. It would have been amazing to see The Smiths but that's never going to happen either - although I did get to see Johnny Marr play.

What are your top 5 favourite bands? 
Right. At the moment...
The Killers.
Biffy Clyro.
Arctic Monkeys.
Frank Turner & The Sleeping Souls
and probably Twin Atlantic.

Name four or more flawless albums:
The Velvet Underground & Nico (self-titled record).
Rumours by Fleetwood Mac is perfection.
Dookie by Greenday. They played the whole thing straight through at Reading and I remembered how much I loved it when I first heard it aged about thirteen.
Hot Fuss by The Killers is one of the best albums I've ever heard.
I don't know... if its just about a flawless album then The XX's first one is unbelievably beautiful.

How many music related videos/DVDs do you own?
I don't actually know if I own any - I watch stuff online rather than buying it and I would rather buy an album than a book. I watched a documentary about The Rolling Stones about four times last year though and about a week ago I watched one about Jimi Hendrix - I just don't own any of them. And honestly, I'm pretty tempted to read Morrissey's book, although maybe I'll just wait until someone I can borrow it from buys it....

How many concerts/shows have you been to, total?
God, I actually don't know! Okay, the first proper one was The Killers, then last year I saw P!nk, I went to Capital Summertime Ball (because Taylor was playing!), I saw The 1975, Frank Turner, The Pogues and I've seen stuff at Guil-fest like Kids in Glass Houses. And then more recently I've seen Mcfly, Paul Weller, Biffy Clyro, Tall Ships, The First and then I saw loads of bands at Reading in the summer: like Frank Turner again, Greenday, Jake Bugg, Johnny Marr, Foals, Alt-J, and Biffy.

Who have you seen the most live?
Frank Turner wins because I've seen him three times: twice at a festival and once supporting someone else, does that count?. But then I've seen The Killers and Biffy both twice so I don't know, one of those three.

What is your favourite movie soundtrack?
Probably The Perks of Being a Wallflower. But 10 Things I Hate About You, 500 Days of Summer and Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist definitely make the list as well. Good music = good film.

What was your last musical “phase” before you wisened up?
Oh god, I'm so not "wisened up" yet! Hahahaha I still listen to Mcfly and loads of rubbish stuff. But I like so many different bands, I don't really have phases. I'm always discovering something new and it keeps life interesting. I have phases of listening to something a lot and then forgetting it for about a year and then going OH YEAH I LOVE BLONDIE and then re-listen with fresh ears. Its nice.

What’s your “guilty pleasure” that you hate to admit to liking?
I don't hate to admit to anything if I genuinely like it! Probably the one that I would be laughed at the most for is how much I like Kanye West, HE'S REALLY TALENTED, OKAY! Yeezus is a great album, I will stand up for that opinion. There's not too much else really.

Leave a comment if you feel like answering any of these questions yourself - I won't tag anyone but if you enjoyed reading and want to do your own post please tell me because I would love to hear about other people's favourite bands, guilty pleasures and best ever concert experiences.

xoxo

I forgot how much I love Vampire Weekend....

 

the gloves are off, the wisdom teeth are out

what you on about?

I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my bones

 

 

all your diction, dripping with disdain

through the pain I always tell the truth

 

 

we know the fire awaits unbelievers

all of the sinners the same

girl you and I will die unbelievers, bound

to the tracks of the train

 

 

half of me is the gasoline

but the other half's the surf

 

 

nobody knows what the future holds

said its bad enough just getting old

live my life in self-defense, you know

I love the past cause I hate suspense

 

 

 

paper's shot to pieces

the kids don't stand a chance

Friday Nights & Sunday Dinners

Doing things regularly. It's the perfect plot device, ensuring drama on a weekly basis and making sure there's always something to talk about. From the Gilmore Girls (MY MOST FAVOURITE THING EVER), having "Friday night dinners" at their grandparents' house every week - honestly barely an episode of that show goes by without one - to Olivia Pope's Sunday catch-ups with her dad (not all that much more scary than a meal with Emily Gilmore if you ask me...) many shows rely on the regularity and familiarity of ritual, of entrenched expectations to allow the pace to continue.

But in real life? Not so much. Apart from religious, borderline obsessive watching of my favourite TV shows, there is very little I'm capable of doing routinely. I marvel at Youtubers who are able to promise they "post new videos every Wednesday," or, god knows how, even daily. I can't stomach the idea of a nine-to-five job, a boring career, the thought of commitment to a life lived in one place. As cute as Tom and Giovanna Fletcher's lives are, from the wedding speech and now the pumpkin baby announcement video, the idea following the pattern of job, marriage, family, etc. etc. literally makes me feel ill. I can't really picture how I want my life to look in the future, especially as I barely even have a handle on what I'm supposed to be doing next week.

Sometimes its all I can do to remember to eat meals at the "normal" time of day. Is there anything really wrong with eating cereal for dinner or ice cream for breakfast? - not on my planet. I don't know whether its that I get bored easily or just that my daily life is really uninteresting, but when days go by, each one incredibly similar to the last, I start feeling trapped. And then I feel the need to go and do something crazy, like get something else pierced, run off to Reading Festival with a weeks notice, quit my job or get seriously behind with my school work only to panic, sit up until two am doing an essay and get to my 8.30 am history lesson just to realise I answered the wrong question.

I don't handle boredom well and I do admit to having a very low threshold for enduring things I don't want to do. An allergy, an intolerance, or just a severe distaste. I'll sit there, roll my eyes, force myself to get through another Thursday that will be exactly the same as the one before, and exactly the same as the one in another seven days time. My worst nightmare is predictability and the only thing I like less than knowing I'm going to be living right where I am now for the next year, sleeping in the same bed I've had since I was a child, is that I still don't know where I'm moving to. All I want to do right now is escape off round the world, without any idea when I'll be back.

Many of my friends are experiencing this same feeling as I am - probably they're capable of handling it slightly better than I am. To be honest, I think its perfectly common around age 17 to 18 to suddenly realise your whole life is ahead of you and the pressure to know what to do with it can feel completely overwhelming. Its like staring out into uncharted water, or off the edge of a cliff into a massive abyss ominously labelled: Your Future. "What happens now?" we all think. Since when do we make the decisions, decide the course of our own lives. I didn't sign up for this - no one asked me if I wanted to be born and now there's potentially eighty more years of this bulls*** that I have to plan out? (You can see why I feel other people are dealing with this collective emotional crisis a bit more maturely...)

So once I'm done with my ironically timed toddler-style tantrum about the fact I exist, I had better get on and start making some choices. Smart, useful ones that might actually get me somewhere. Not something I'm famous for being great at, but its probably time to start giving it a go. To do some preparation for the entrance exam I have to take, to sit down and deal with the mountains of work I need to do, to stop helplessly refreshing the UCAS track page in the hope it will tell me what to do with my life. If you feel yourself getting into this state (no judgement here, if you've made it this far you can tell that I am clearly losing the plot anyway...) I have one piece of advice for you. Watch Danisnotonfire's videos on this topic, and have a cup of tea. If this doesn't make you feel even slightly better you are probably in need of professional help that I am in no way qualified to give.

Hugs. We'll all get through this eventually xoxo

Things I Know Today.

Sometimes a week off is what we all need. A few nights spent drinking too much and laughing with friends are the most perfect things. It doesn't matter if the film is bad, as long as the person you watch it with doesn't mind you providing sarcastic commentary. Pizza is all I need to cure any hangover. Really cold coke optional but preferred. Burning incense in my bedroom is filling it with thick sweet smoke but its worth it, even just to save money on my scented candle addiction.



Christmas is beginning to feel just around the corner, and bonfire night is even closer. My favourite time of the year has definitely begun. Towns full of students are fun towns to visit - especially if they look like a setting from Harry Potter; complete with castles, gothic cathedrals and shops full of beautiful old books. Six hour train journeys are bearable with an iPod full of music and a phone full of people to text and complain to about said journey. Vodka and coke is the one. Waking up to cider spilt over your bedroom floor and last nights outfit is not.

Halloween is incredible, so is face paint, so is going to church on the night of October 31st - as an atheist - I've never felt so spooky in my life. Dracula is good reading material for giving you nightmares and skies full of stars are suddenly quite scary. The music I'm listening to changes as the nights get longer and the evenings get darker earlier. All I want to do is curl up under my duvet and wait for it to start snowing; the disappointment when this doesn't happen until February is just as much of a yearly ritual.



In other words: autumn is well under way. The high street coffee chains have brought out their seasonal specials, everyone I know is bundled up in coats and hats every time we set foot outside, I've got some new snuggly warm boots to wear and a pile of books to read. I've switched back to my "wintry" perfume, and started longing to buy new jumpers, as if Topshop needed any more of my hard-earned cash. A very happy girl really.

Memories need to be made, photos need to be taken and life needs to happen while we still have time left living here. This is how I look today. Tired, yes. Piles of work to do before next week starts, yes. Regretting not spending more time studying, definitely not. I could get run over by a car tomorrow or fall under a bus and I wouldn't want to feel like I had missed out on anything.

Bad Days & Blog Posts

It rained on me on my (admittedly very short) walk into sixth form today. I woke up late, my hair went all fluffy and my double history lesson was far too long. I spent hours on an essay only to discover I had written it on the wrong topic, I drank too much coffee and spent my break feeling moody and stroppy; some of my symptoms of "having one of those days."

 

We all have a bad day occasionally. Sometimes it just isn't your week, or it feels like nothing is going right. And even if the spell of horrible weather, wardrobe malfunctions, forgetfulness or just general bad luck only lasts for a little while it can still be miserable. The littlest things can surprisingly be the ones that brighten up a bad day the most.

 

Someone told me they liked my blog and said they thought I had a real future at writing. My friends are too good at making me laugh and cheering me up. I had a veggie burger for dinner and stopped feeling like I might faint due to lack of protein (#veggieproblems). I watched the Great British Bake Off Final and suddenly feel the need to go and make cakes or cookies or something... and this is coming from someone who has repeatedly proved her inability to make anything edible ever. I listened to some of my favourite bands, spend some time with my little sister and studiously avoided anything remotely resembling coursework.

 

You can choose to have a bad day, to go to bed feeling grumpy and upset, to listen to the songs that make you feel sad and nostalgic. Or you can choose to smile, to laugh, to remember than you can do it all over again tomorrow and to forget about the fact that you got out of bed on the wrong side.
You can choose to be happy.

“Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.”

Today has been a weird kind of day. I dragged myself out of bed, after pressing snooze a few times, went downstairs and ate what I usually eat for breakfast, swallowed my iron supplement tablet with a mug of green tea and got dressed. I found some clean jeans and chose the rest of my outfit from the mess of clothes, make up, books and magazines on the floor of my (not-usually-quite-this) messy bedroom. Messed around with my hair, put some make up on my face, plugged my headphones in, grabbed my bag and left the house. So far, so normal.

 

 

This is where it changes. I walked into school - early for once in my life - and waited around for my appointment. My appointment to send off my UCAS form. My university application, personal statement, results, predicted grades and reference are currently being sent off to the five places I have applied to. It's all done, it's all finally finished and I can have my life back. It may sound a bit dramatic and it probably is, but I have always been someone who doesn't deal very well with even the idea of change. And this change is a big one. This time next year (hopefully/fingers crossed) I will be finally moved out and living at one of my five choices.... and no, I'm not going to tell you what they are! It's safe to say I would be extremely happy getting into any one of them but for various reasons my application had to be sent off early so, along with everyone else from my sixth form in this position, October 15th has been a big deadline hanging over my head. And now, with under 12 hours to go, it's all done and I can stop worrying. I can go back to spending too much time watching the Gilmore Girls, never quite enough doing notes and essays and coursework and dance around my bedroom or go for a run without feeling guilty that I'm not redrafting my application for the millionth time.

 

 

It's amazing to think about how much has changed in the last couple of years. Everything from my favourite books and music, to the people I'm closest with (except for an amazing few who have stayed the same) and the things that interest me most are completely different. It's really hard not to feel like a different person when so little about my life actually feels recognizable to me. When I was fourteen - aside from the fact I was still convinced I could become a ballet dancer, don't laugh too much - I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. When I was fifteen I thought having a full fringe and short hair was a good idea and when I was sixteen getting my nose pierced was the scariest thing I had ever done. Luckily that one did turn out to be a good decision, and I hope as I finish up being seventeen the good decisions are starting to outweigh the bad ones.

 

 

My friendships have changed beyond recognition, I no longer spend hours of my life perfecting barre exercises or learning solos and fixing new ribbons onto ballet shoes. I talk far more than I used to, and while my family are unsurprised as they complain that I never shut up at home, teachers in sixth form and people I had never bothered trying to get to know are surprised that I have "come out of my shell." I think change is a good thing now. I get bored if I haven't moved my furniture around in a while, constantly need new posters for my walls and feel that live isn't really worth living if I haven't got something new to look forward to just around the corner.

 

 

There are so many plans I have, so many things I want to do before this year ends. I need a new job for starters, I need to save up some money and finish learning to drive. I really really need a new phone. I need to go to Washington DC in February for my Year 13 Politics trip. I need to see Taylor Swift when the Red Tour comes to London (thank you God, for amazing people who buy me tickets for things!) I need to have a lovely Christmas with my family, the last proper one before there are only two people living in our house all the time. I need to make sure I don't worry about them too much but at the same time, set up Skype on my laptop and come home to visit every now and then. I need to go travelling next summer, I NEED to go to Reading Festival again, I need to find my wristband from this year and put it on my pin board, I need to get a new camera and take so many pictures of all the things and people I want to remember. I need my hair to grow some more, I need a lovely prom and a happy ending to being "in school." I don't particularly want to be eighteen and have to start being an "adult," but it's going to happen anyway and I might as well try and love it.

 

 

I used to say I hated where I had grown up, that it was boring, that I wished I had lived somewhere else but I think I actually might be starting to realise how much I'll miss it. I think my resistance to any kind of change comes from the insecurity I have from being moved around the world so much when I was little and being afraid to put down roots and have to leave again. I don't remember it, of course, I was one and two when we moved from England to Hong Kong and back again and three when we moved to where we live now. But I remember the anxiety I had throughout my childhood of people disappearing, of moving away and never coming back. One of my close friends in primary school moved to Italy, another to the other end of the country. Others I have lost touch with since then, Year Nine friendships break up and people move on, things change and there is nothing I can do about it. I remember waving goodbye to my dad so many times from windows and airports and trains - jobs with constant travel are really good for building abandonment issues into your children.  I remember how much easier that made it to say goodbye to him permanently and how much I hated it, and tried to miss him more, on purpose. I remember all of these things and how they have made me into myself.

 

 

I hate looking through my old pictures because I hate how I used to look. I hate hate hate myself with short hair and I have still not quite gotten over it yet. I'm working on it, they were not happy years for me and maybe that was reflected too poignantly in those photos. But there are one lot I found: pictures from my trip to Italy this last summer. I spent nearly three weeks with my mum and little sister and the in photos from this holiday we look the happiest I've ever seen us. I don't know why this is, a combination of sunshine and exploring in a beautiful place? The amazing food, the friendly people, the feeling of being so far away from anything about home? Whatever it is, I intend to capture that feeling and spend as much as possible of the rest of my life being exactly that happy.

 

Who am I?

It is crazy really, this pressure put on everyone to define exactly who they are. What you makes you unique, special, different from the hundreds of other people with the same age or hair colour or even who share your name?

Is it the bands you listen to and the albums you buy? The concerts you attend and the posters you display on your bedroom walls - telling anyone who comes in: This is me, this is what I like, therefore this is who I am.

Is it the books you read, films you watch or TV you like? Is it the characters you care about or the movie adaptations you slate for being "nowhere near as good as the book!"

Is it the social media you use - Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, the list soon to be never ending? The photos you share, the things you retweet, the blog you write too infrequently?

Is it your friends, the memories you share and the things you have in common? Is it your family, your interests, pets, favourite colours and smells, way you drink your tea or coffee or whether you drink it at all? Or whether you drink or smoke, whether you love going out or prefer staying in, whether you are one of the loud, chatty ones, or the one they always say "needs to speak up a bit more?"

Is it whether you like science and numbers or would rather be reading and writing? Is it if you want to go to university, or get a job or start a family or have no idea at all?

Is it all of these things? All of them and the many millions more that go into making up a person: a completely unique individual. Exactly like everyone else - with skin and lungs and legs and eyes - but at the same time a total original, never again to be repeated genetic fluke.

What is about society that insists we have to know the answers to all of these questions. What if the choices you make change, the stuff you used to love no longer makes you happy? Have you changed who you are? Why do I have to define who I am right now, when I and everyone I know are all still trying to work it out?

Reality TV

We all love it. It seems that they're more and more of our favourite TV shows, from the ones we curl up on the sofa to watch in the evening, to the ones we make the effort to catch up with online or even have on over breakfast in the mornings, while we're drinking coffee or doing our hair.

"Reality TV is morphine, give me that now, let me ease the pain."

From the glamorous lifestyles of The Real Housewives and the Kardashians to the more down-to-earth British reality shows such as Jeremy Kyle, The Only Way Is Essex and even the most recent one to appear on our screens: Educating Yorkshire, it seems that on every channel there are "real" people and "real" events for our entertainment. I don't know anyone who doesn't watch some form of reality show and I'm willing to bet you don't either. But just how "real" are these shows we seem to love so much? Are they actually nothing more than harmless entertainment, something funny to laugh over with friends or maybe just less depressing to have on in the background than the news?

I find it strange realising the window they give you onto someone's life - however many "scenes are created for your entertainment," essentially you are watching another person, just like you or me, living their day-to-day existence. And I don't know about you, but I would seriously struggle having cameras following me around. The silly things that slip out of your mouth without thinking; the times you trip up, hoping no one notices; awkward moments, arguments, things you wish you could take back - all documented and then broadcast for the whole world to see? I think it would be enough to make me never want to leave my house again.

What about those things that are - and should probably stay - private? Relationships, family
problems, illnesses, addictions? The plots of most reality shows centre around events like these: after all we're all human and stories and drama are what bring us together. But the difference between relating to a fictional character in a book or identifying and empathising with a situation in a film or TV drama is something we shouldn't ignore. It's cathartic to cry or to feel the emotions of a situation - but when it's someone's real life we're talking about, should it really be unfolding in the public eye?

I've been watching Educating Yorkshire recently, and in between laughing at my own memories of being in Years 7 to 11 and enjoying the funny moments on the show - including the girl that shaved her eyebrows off - I was really surprised by one of the episodes that dealt with the subject of a boy whose brother had suddenly died. I've been in a situation not unlike this myself and it was hard enough coping with the emotions and stress caused by a family member passing away on top of the normal issues of being a teenager and being in school everyday, trying to study for exams, cope with problems with friends and so on. I can remember leaving school at the end of the day, just desperate to get home and not have to deal with other people, or think about anything, for literally months.

I still feel like this now sometimes, although its far more under control than it was, but I genuinely cannot imagine how hard it would have been to be in this situation knowing it was being used as material for TV, for other people to watch and see how much you were struggling. I felt so awful watching it, knowing exactly how hard it is to get through even one day sometimes, let alone thinking into the future, as it feels like we're constantly asked to do at school.

Sometimes I think this is the main problem in our society. We're obsessed with "fame" and "celebrities" and entire industries are formed around building people up into stars and success stories and then tearing them down the minute we realise they aren't perfect. No wonder people rely on drugs or drinking to cope with the pressure and, to be honest, probably just to be numb enough to it all to be able to function. And really, its one thing when its someone who has actually signed up for a career in the public eye, but it begins to get a whole lot more complicated when we all want our five minutes of fame; we all want hundreds of twitter and instagram followers, reading our every thought and seeing all the photos we share with the world.

Where do you draw the line over what stays personal?

I admit this may have gone into a bit of a random direction, especially as this really isn't the kind of thing I normally write about and honestly, my Real Housewives addiction probably isn't going to end any time soon but I do think is something important to talk about. What do you think? Leave me a comment to tell me your opinion, or am I the one only one worrying about this...?

Writing and stuff like that...

Life is good when you're as excited as I am to go to work experience every morning. For a whole week I get to sit in an office, with my laptop and write about stuff, while drinking coffee and being surrounded by other people doing the exact same thing. I'm literally loving it, and getting to "pretend" to be a writer for the week is making me all the more sure that it's what I want to do with my life. Although work experience can sometimes be oddly reminiscent of playing at being a grown-up, like playing in a Wendy house at pre-school, it is definitely worthwhile and you get out what you put in.


I would be lying if I said there haven't been dull moments - or hours - or times I've been texting friends wondering if they're enjoying it more or less than me, but overall it has been amazing. And if anyone's interested, here is the link to my first real article for something other than this blog. Give it a read if you want to find out more about a new reality TV show starting in my local area of Surrey - South-East England. Here you go...

my first real article for @TG2Surrey http://t.co/7zZE7YrGQv so exciting :) #surreyhills
— Jessica (@JessicaFKeyes) July 24, 2013

Hope everyone is having a lovely week
xxx