“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.

"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

Saving Mr Banks ...

It's hard to know what to say - what to start with - when trying to describe this film. I could tell you that you definitely need to see it; that you will laugh, cry and want to shout at the screen; that by the end, whatever your feelings on Disney, you will love and adore the characters and hope that Emma Thompson writes all future scripts for all movies. "Saving Mr Banks," as well as being the story of how the much loved children's book "Mary Poppins" was made into an equally - if not more so - loved Disney film, is about a (now grown up) little girl and her relationship with her father. It is about how your past haunts you into adulthood, and if you aren't careful and willing to let it go, all through your life. It is about love and loss, about watching your parents screw up their lives and, by extension yours. 




I have to confess I didn't cry while watching it. I didn't cry as two small girls watched their father drink himself closer and closer to death and then eventually, gently even, slip over the edge. I didn't cry as the oldest daughter saved her unstable mother from a suicide attempt. I didn't cry as P. L. Travers, now a fully grown-up woman and a successful writer, crumpled into tears watching her childhood brought to life in a magical, moving film that somehow made all of that pain as close as it would ever be to alright. In fact the closest to tears I got was as she hugged a Mickey Mouse cuddly toy all alone in L. A. and realised how just how very lonely she was.

 

Trust me, you need to watch this film. If you love the story of the nanny who blew in with the east wind, carrying a magic carpet bag; providing the spoonfuls of sugar needed to help the life lessons go down, then you will enjoy seeing a whole new element to her creation brought to life. If you are yet to be won over by the singing and the dancing, the mystery and adventures - the dancing penguins and the flying kites in London skies, the suffragettes, the chimney sweeps and the echoing cathedral with it's swooping birds - prepare to have your opinions changed. Emma Thompson is totally magical and has written a movie that will sweep the most hardened Disney haters off their feet. Tom Hanks is ideal as Walt Disney - the storyteller who makes dreams come true and characters dance off the page and into imaginations all over the world.
 

 

The songs that make "Mary Poppins" so wonderful are all here. From Chim-Chiminey to Supercallifragilistic to Feed the Birds (sobs) and Fly A Kite, you can easily spend the whole film singing along and will come away feeling oddly reminded of your childhood, however distant it seems day to day. Personally, among others such as Annie and The Sound of Music, Mulan, Peter Pan and Pocohontas, "Mary Poppins" was one of the films I watched with my sister about 743682 times when we were little. It's really rare to see something that perfectly appreciates what's so wonderful about the original, but adds to it beautifully, expanding on the themes you were only partially aware of, when watching curled up on the sofa, having begged to stay up past bedtime to finish the ending. It allows you to love it again in a whole new way; seeing it with fresh, grown-up - or at least closer to it - eyes. 

 

And finally, no. She didn't come to save the children. She never did. Excuse me while I go and cry over how perfect "Saving Mr Banks" is, re-watch "Mary Poppins" and spend the next three weeks raving about it to everyone I know.

xox

Some lovely little questions...

Ages ago I was tagged in one of those chain blog award things by another Jessica. So thank you Jess - and have a look at her blog because she does some amazing artwork! I've finally got round to writing the post - because who doesn't love answering some questions about themselves...?

The rules of this tag are:
1.The tagged/nominated blogs have to have under 200 followers.
2.Tag the blog that nominated you.
3.Tell the people you tag so they can respond.

And here are my answers.........



1. What inspired you to start a blog?

I was inspired to begin blogging after reading other people's blogs, which I know is a really boring response. It was also because I love writing and at the time I wasn't really that into using Facebook or Twitter so it was sort of a way to create a space for me to be creative and talk about things I was into, which I didn't really do in any other way on the internet at the time I started it.

2. If you could go back to any era for a day which time era would you go to?

I would visit the late 1960s and either go to London and see the Rolling Stones playing or I would want to go to one of the huge music festivals in America, either Monterey Pop or Woodstock. Honestly if I had a time machine seeing bands would be the only reason I would use it; the idea of mucking up the course of human history by accident really freaks me out and as much as we'd all like to think that *killing Hitler* (or insert other mass murderer etc.) would be a good thing, we can never know what effect changing things would have - it could be worse after all and that really scares me.

3. Cats or Dogs?

I'm not much of a fan of either but if forced to pick I'd say cat. I can't handle the level of emotional commitment a dog needs; sums up my life really.

4. What is your must have clothing item for Autumn?

A coat? Does that even count? I don't know really, I have some lovely new ankle boots but I can't walk properly in them and they're too pretty to take outside in the rain and puddles and ruin, so I'll go for my nice warm coat. That or a really snuggly jumper.



5. What is your favourite book?

Ugh so many! The Harry Potter books are probably my all time favourites as my entire childhood is measured in terms of waiting for the next books and films to come out. There are so many quotes that I love and the whole series means so much to me. One of my favourite places in the whole world is the Elephant Café in Edinburgh where J K Rowling wrote, and where I insisted on spending ages in when I visited Scotland! But I also love anything by John Green, The Perks of Being A Wallflower, The Great Gatsby, ummmm The Book Thief and On The Road are also two of my favourites, there are just far too many really! And don't mention I Capture The Castle to me and expect me not to get emotional... I sometimes think I prefer that book to reality.





6.What is your dream job?

A writer. Can you tell?

 

7. Is there anything you do that other people find weird?

I tend to be quite quiet... that is until you get to know me well. I can bend my thumbs back at a weird angle, apart from that I don't know, can't think of that many things. Try asking my friends.... they may have a different answer.

8. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

Oh My God, so many places. Firstly, its obviously a huge cliché, but New York City. Then Paris, anywhere in Italy, Australia, India.... there are so many millions of places I want to go to, to be honest. I'm a bit in love with Scotland as so many of my favourite bands are from there, and there are also random places that I just want to travel to for no particular reason - like a particular lake in Russia, for example, or Seattle in America, and I also really want to go back to Poland again. Finally if I really could only pick one place it would have to be somewhere in Asia - maybe Japan, China or Thailand - because I lived in Hong King when I was little and have always wanted to go back there.

9. Must have make-up item?

I have to say eyeliner comes close, I love doing pretty winged or really messy smudgy eyes, but if you told me I could only use one make up item ever again it would be lip balm. My pet hate is having chapped lips and I'm constantly smearing on different flavours; my favourite at the moment is the Body Shop Spiced Vanilla which tastes exactly like Christmas. However, I probably couldn't live for long without most of my make up bag to be honest.

10. Favourite quote?

My current favourite quote is this one. I just think it makes a lot of sense and makes me feel better about being permanently in a bad mood about something.



 

Hopefully you enjoyed reading this post, a bit different from the usual really. I'm going to ask Lucy and Robyn to answer the same questions I was asked (because I'm too lazy to think up more but ssshhh.....)

 

xoxo

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.

Did I Ever Mention That I Love John Green?

It happened again. Don't expect me to be capable of using Amazon to order all my Year 13 books without sneaking in something I actually want to read as well... Sorry A2 Politics textbook but you don't really fit that definition. I don't think there's anything I would prefer to arrive in the post on a Saturday when I don't have to get up to do anything than a new (to me) book that I can dive into and read pretty much in one go. This one was no exception. According to Wikipedia Paper Towns is Youtuber John Green's third novel, but I know this is true because I have also read AND LOVED Looking for Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines. And don't even get me started on The Fault In Our Stars. I love this book so much it feels like a tiny piece of my soul.

 

Anyway. Thoughts. It would be wrong to say that Paper Towns is a love story, not because it isn't, but because its so much more than that. Its a growing up story, a coming-of-age tale of life in a small town on the edge of a huge country full of futures. Its about friendship, knowing who you are while accepting that all that could change at any moment. Its about road trips, adventure and mystery. Its about “a lovely, eccentric girl; a mystery that begs to be solved by clever, quirky teens," but also about a boy. A boy who believes in college and jobs and the future and spends his final days of high school questioning all of those beliefs. Paper Towns is all about confronting what is and isn't real. The imaginary towns drawn onto maps that don't really exist are "paper," but so are the suburbs and the communities full of houses that all look the same, containing the cookie-cutter lives of people who grew up accepting "the whole allure of a life rightly lived." There probably isn't anyone alive who hasn't found themselves, at some point, asking these questions and it helps sometimes, when you feel like you're struggling to decipher the point to existence, to read a book like this.

 

I liked it a lot, but I'm kind of struggling to put into words as to why. I think it may be one of those books that you read fast and then put down for a few months while it simmers away in the back of your head until you pick it up again and go Oh I Get This Now. This Is All So True And etc. etc. One part I really liked was the idea that "the metaphors have implications." The way we decide to perceive things does affect the world and the way things are. The whole book felt full of little moments like this; tiny sentences of wisdom, in between the drama and humour and car crashes, after-proms and midnight break-ins of the plot. Drunken chats in empty bathtubs at parties with people you had never spoken to before. Falling asleep on long drives. Maps on bedroom walls, highlighted bits in books, messages to your friends, lying to parents, sneaking out and back in again. All of these things are so recognizable as parts of growing up: everyone can find a memory of their teenage years in here.

 

Much of Paper Towns is structured around this incomprehensible poem by Walt Whitman. I searched through the internet for a bit and eventually I found one quote that I liked from part of Song Of Myself: "My words itch at your ears till you understand them." I might have to let Paper Towns itch at my ears for a while until I get it but I would still definitely recommend reading it. I think its quite rare for books aimed at teenagers and young adults to be about stuff that actually means something. It can feel like if you want to read something that understands the questions that are nagging at you about life or the future or whatever your choices are limited to books written in the past. Obviously there's nothing wrong with this, but equally it would be wrong to limit philosophical questioning and stuff to *old* books. We should be doing it today as well, because sometimes it feels like there's more and more options and more and more to question than ever.

Okay I'm done. If you've read Paper Towns or any other John Green books, what did you think?

“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?

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

If you can't stand the heat...

Summer is almost upon us now. Everyone is beginning to anticipate the hot, lazy days ahead; the year's holiday in the sun. I find myself missing summer all year round, longing for the smells of sun scorched pavements, the concrete almost melting. I miss the heavy feeling of heat on my skin.

I want my hair to be full of salt, sun-bleached and dried into those elusive, genuinely "beachy" waves. I'm craving summery scents: coconut body lotions soothing sun-tanned limbs, the familiar, nostalgic flavour of sunscreen, reminding you of childhood days at the seaside, paddling in the waves and eating ice cream. I want to wear sunglasses everyday, all summer long, simply because the sun is shining so brightly. I'd love a deep tan that isn't out of a bottle, that comes from being outside for hours and hours, for days on end.

I want to not be able to sleep because of the heat. I want to lie under a thin sheet rather than a stifling duvet. I want to find sand between my toes and under my nails, painted a bright, tropical coral or turquoise. I don't want to wear or think about jeans from now until September, if possible. I'll be floating around in maxi dresses and sandals, imagining that I'm already on holiday in the sun. I want to buy a new bikini - something I've done every summer for the past five years. Its becoming a ritual.

Summer. Proper hot, sweltering, blistering heat. I know I live in a country where, if we're lucky, we might get a week of weather like this - and even then it won't compare to the temperatures in a million and one other far away places: from dry, dusty deserts and humid rainforests to crowded, sweaty cities and beaches packed with travellers and tourists everywhere from Brazil and L.A. to Thailand and Australia. I can't help myself; can't stop craving and hoping for a long, boiling-hot, sunshine-filled Indian summer.

I'm not much of a believer in "summer memories" and in fact my recollections of the summer months over the years tend to blur into one, to the point where I don't quite remember which country or which beach I was on in which year, with which haircut. Looking back at the photographs confuses me and I never recognize myself, in the pictures with family and friends, all getting younger and younger as the years go back. I know I'm incredibly lucky in that my family have always loved travelling and booking our holiday is something we look forward to doing all year. I've spent lots of time on beaches and in beautiful cities all over Italy as well as in Spain and many places in England of course and this year I will hopefully be adding a new country or two to my list.



As usual, F. Scott Fitzgerald says
it better than anyone else ever could...

Although my tan will fade away into pale, winter skin, the bright clothes and summery dresses will be put away until next year and I will go back to only ever wearing dark nail polish, I hope to remember the summer of 2013 for a long time. I've waited all year for it to come around: the countdown beginning in March, around the time of my 17th birthday. For anyone of my age, this will be our last ever summer with a back-to-school feeling waiting for us in September, infusing the holiday with regret before it has even begun. This time next year we'll hopefully be looking forward to going off to universities, to travelling or starting exciting new jobs in the somehow very scary "real world." I'm going to enjoy every single moment of this almost-last summer, I don't want to wish away a second.

x

I don't really get technology...

Apparently Google have decided to close down a thing (I don't even know - is it a service? a website?) called Google Reader. I found about this because I got an email from Bloglovin - since when do I have an account there?! But obviously I do- telling me this is very bad news. After realising I had better do something, rather than just pretend this isn't happening I just googled it. Oh the irony.

I don't really understand how this all works to be honest (I know, I'm inspiring so much confidence here...) but to be on the safe side I transferred all the blogs I follow into Bloglovin. I generally just look at all my blog subscriptions in the blogger dashboard but I didn't know if that would be affected or not. I also think they really might need to consider a renaming, just a suggestion. I mean Bloglovin? Yuck. I don't want to type that out every day each time I want to look at a blog.

So anyway, if you would like to, please feel free to follow me on Bloglovin, or "Not-Google Reader" as I am calling it for now. I've put the button on my blog so it literally could not be easier. The website, despite the horrible name, is actually very intuitive to use and I think will probably make keeping up with reading blogs a lot easier. I also like how you can categorise them... so I will probably get around to doing that at some point in late 2014. Or 15...

Hopefully this will all work out fine (haha - can you tell I'm totally calm?) and the internet will not break tomorrow with all of the bloggers shouting NOOOOO into their computer screens as everything just crashes and burns. There is always twitter though. Thank god for twitter, Many bloggers (me included) always tweet links to new posts so you can keep up with them on there.

x

A Geek in Politics

While some people may consider themselves to be "geeks" due to their love for superhero films, or be known (in the nicest way possible!) by their friends as a "nerd" because of their detailed knowledge of astrophysics or Jane Austen books, I would put myself in that group for a different reason: Politics. It may sound completely random, and you may wonder, how can someone think politics is "nerdy"? It's so exciting and interesting (I'm kidding!) But seriously, I am interested in politics the way you might be interested in videogames or manga. It might be weird but it fascinates me. I follow many different politicians and journalists on twitter - I get most of the news that interests me from twitter to be honest - and its kind of sad how excited I am to start my A2 Government and Politics course in September. My glasses might not be as "adorkable" as Jessica Day or Alexa Chung's but I admit it... I am a politics nerd. Happy now?

Admittedly, politics has many, many, many hours of talking and long lengthy bills and legal stuff that no one really seems to understand (and actual people, in fact) that just make it seem boring. David Cameron, for example. Probably the last exciting thing he has done lately was to leave one of his children behind in a pub. Aside from that brief moment of entertainment, he makes the country want to fall asleep when he appears on the news. We've heard enough about the Big Society to last us a lifetime and we're certainly not "all in it together." Yawn.

However, when something exciting does happen in the world of politics, it's not only about the implications of changing a law or voting in a new leader and the effects that will have on the lives of potentially millions of people, like tiny ripples on the ocean. Its about the energy of people coming together who believe they can do something to change the world. Its amazing to feel that just by being alive you are watching history take place before your eyes. In this generation more than ever, you can feel you are having a direct impact. Whether you raise money or awareness for a cause or charity that means something to you, tweet or blog or just tell people about the issues that make you angry or simply turn out and vote for your representatives, making your voice heard, (something I haven't been able to do yet as I'm still only 17) all of these actions influence the way the world will be in the future. The Obama election campaign is an obvious example of this that springs instantly to mind. Why can't we have a election in the UK this exciting? I want Beyoncé singing outside Number 10, Downing Street, okay!

With this in mind, it was incredible to see the events that took place over the last few days in America. Politics in the States is really interesting and personally I think it is far more exciting than in Britain. The 24 hour period of the 25th to the 26th of June 2013 will be remembered as something pretty special. It might not have the impact of a presidential election result or a declaration of war and it's not as catchy as "Watergate" or as tragic as the Sandy Hook school shootings, but I think I will always remember where I was when I found out Wendy Davis' filibuster in Texas had been successful in blocking SB5 - legislation that would have outlawed abortions beyond 20 weeks. Writing it out doesn't make it seem very exciting but the results of her determination and bravery in standing up for what she believed in will (hopefully) have a hugely positive impact, both in Texas and maybe even setting an example throughout America.

Wendy Davis was born to a single mother and had her first child while still in her teens but she managed to rise above her difficult start in life to graduate from Harvard Law School and become a Democrat State Senator in Texas, one of the most staunchly Republican places in the country. Her story is really inspiring and makes her commitment to helping other young women who may find themselves in similar situations have legal access to free, safe medical care more understandable, but no less impressive. Coming from the UK, I think it can be hard to fully appreciate the way the medical system works in the US. We are lucky enough to have the NHS in this country and as much as everyone, especially (strangely...) elderly people, love to moan about it, I can say for a fact we would be far worse off following America' example. No amount of viewing medical dramas such as Scrubs, House M.D. or Grey's Anatomy can really get the awful unfairness of the situation across to you, that if you don't have insurance, you don't get treatment. Period. This is why people like Wendy Davis are important. Having only five abortion clinics in the whole of Texas would just be ridiculous and cost many lives. The bill has been scheduled to be discussed again on the 1st of July and we will just have to hope that someone else is able to stand up (literally) and do the right thing.

There were of course a few other exciting things that took place across the pond on Wednesday. DOMA was ruled unconstitutional, the challenge to Proposition 8's "unconstitutionality" (I really hope that is a word...) was thrown out - these are both Good News FYI - and the Voting Rights Act (or at least part of it) was ruled unconstitutional - although this, sadly, is a lot less good. However, and this is just my personal opinion, I felt a lot more inspired by the successful SB5 protests than by the other legislation. I live in a "single parent family" and I think that shows you how hard it would be to raise a child on your own, especially an unplanned one. Perhaps it's because (if I moved to America obviously) this would be the one with the potential to affect my life the most, although that may sound pretty selfish, or maybe the situation seems more urgent: life and death, as opposed to bureaucracy. While of course gay marriage is an incredibly important issue - and something I definitely support 100% - I do think someone's right to control the choices they make about their own body is more of a pressing concern.

Despite my opinions, I'm really happy for all the people that these law changes mean a lot to and I hope it gives everyone hope that, eventually, things will change for the better. I hope that in a few generations time children will be wondering what the big deal is and why their mum and dad, or mum and mum, or dad and dad keep talking about something so obvious. Because of course all families are the same, of course everyone should be equal under the law; the same way we now find it hard to comprehend when we learn in a history class about how less than a hundred years ago women didn't have the right to vote.

I don't know when there will be a female President of the USA, I don't know when there will be another female Prime Minister in the UK or in Australia, now that Julia Gillard is gone, but I do know I am really happy that there are women like Wendy Davis in politics today and I hope she inspires lots more girls to make their voices heard around the world.

What do you think about the recent events in America? Have they inspired you in any way? Leave your thoughts in the comments box, I would love to read them!

x

Writing... and some other stuff too.

I love my blog. Writing my blog makes me feel so happy, completely unreasonably happy seeing as all I'm doing is combining a jumble of words and letters into something that (hopefully) makes sense and sending it out into the internet where it gets lost among the thousands of millions of billions of other blogs, images and videos, songs, pixels and data, people, opinions and voices that are all shouting to be heard and seen and understood. Despite this and the shocking level of insignificance that the vastness of the internet reduces everybody to, I still love it.


I don't know why I find it easy to write what I really think or how I feel about something and post it for people I've never met or spoken to, people that don't know I exist, or live on the other side of the world to read and judge. All I can say is that I've never been one of those lucky people who can magically say the right thing in any situation and apparently make friends with anyone and everyone they meet. I'm not like that - if I'm nervous I will not be able to stop talking and probably say something completely stupid, if I feel awkward you will see it on my face, and worst of all, if I really don't want to talk to someone they can usually tell, which results in some pretty embarrassing moments. Its not like this with writing. With writing - whether I have a pen, a laptop, or the reassuringly bright screen of my phone - I can take time to think about what I'm trying to say, read it back to myself, and crucially have that moment of control before hitting send, or post, or handing in an essay. That moment of knowing that I haven't written something stupid, something that I will regret, makes all the difference. The difference between not putting your hand up to say something or nodding along, not quite sure whether to speak what's on your mind.

And strangely, the release of writing, and being myself has made me a lot more confident and outspoken in my daily life as well. Maybe its the result of receiving comments from people - the same people who would be strangers to me except for the fact that they read my blog - about my writing. Their support and praise has made me keep doing this, even when I want to quit, even when I read back some of the things I wrote a year ago and cringe at the way I said something or the way I come across, even when I wonder what the point is and if anyone would even notice if I just deleted this blog and gave up. Maybe writing has made me more honest. I know I didn't like it at first when people I knew started reading what I wrote, but now I've realised that if someone takes the time to tell me they like something I said or comment on a post, then they genuinely mean it. It may sound stupid, but it really helped me to stop doubting everything I wanted to say - to disagree if that's how I feel, to argue, to type a tweet without rewording it four times, worrying if it sounds stupid, or boring. Worrying if I sound stupid, or boring.

I'm not claiming that I'm never either of these things, by any means, because we all are sometimes and we all say things we may regret the next day, when we've sobered up from the party or calmed down from the screaming fight. Everybody writes things they will cringe to read in five months or two years time - diaries, Facebook statuses, birthday cards to people we will lose touch with while claiming to be BFFs and essays written at 2 am, misspelt and rambling, when maybe we haven't actually finished the book yet. But none of these things matter - who cares if you feel stupid later: say it now. The important thing isn't to care about how you sound to people around you, but just to have the confidence to say it in the first place; to jump in with both feet; to do whatever it is that scares you.

I'd rather have a life of OH SHIT than a life of WHAT IF.... what if I said that thing that needed saying, what if I tried, what if I attempted that thing, whatever it is, that scares me?? Personally, I would prefer to make an idiot of myself now, than regret and wonder why I didn't take those risks in the first place.

So do it.

Ask yourself: what's the worst that could happen? And if the answer isn't: I might die, then its probably a good idea. (Although don't hold me responsible for anything....) xxx