Here we go again…

Okay, so having sex outside a busy night club, isn’t the best idea. Nor is performing oral sex on twenty-four men for a ‘holiday’ be it a drink, or an actual holiday. I think the majority of people would agree, however are we not missing an obvious point? All involved are adults, whilst we may not agree with it, it’s their decision.

To add to that, the only people being shamed are the women. I’m not about to go into a feminist rant; there’s enough of those on Twitter. However, i do think that we should look towards the people who have happily uploaded the images onto the internet, friends of the participants, or just passers by, why has it become such a norm to do so?

Performing sexual acts in a public place, is never going to be a good idea, nor is it the classiest decision, on EITHER the men, or the women involved. However, at the same time those who recorded the imagery, posted the pictures, and happily wrote news articles blasting just the women involved, are in equally bad taste. Should we really condemn people for making an ill informed, embarrassing decision? I mean we all know a couple who have enjoyed some alone time in nature; and we don’t condemn them for their decision. We begin to blast the individuals decision when social media is involved, when their ill-informed decision becomes viral. The society we live in displays both the terrible aspects or humanity, and the good. Maybe we should start to display less of peoples bad decisions on social media, and instead display some beautiful moments in less seedy situations.

Excuses, excuses!

Like thousands of other individuals i find watching The Only Way is Essex, a guilty pleasure. The usual melodrama, however seems to be overridden by the constant “they’re family” as an excuse to meddle in the lives of their siblings. It is as though sharing blood with another person allows you the right to make their decisions for them. It’s ridiculous, when your sibling becomes an adult, they have the right to exercise their own free will.

Don’t misunderstand what i’m writing, there is, and can never be any greater bond than that of family. However, i don’t believe that families have the right to make their brothers, or sisters decisions for them. You’re there to offer them support, love them and help them. Family isn’t there to make all our wrong decisions right, a person needs to make bad decisions; date the wrong person, get an atrocious hair cut because in the end, the bad decisions build our characters. They make us more rounded human beings, as opposed to one dimensional beings with a lack of stories.

The cast of TOWIE just need to step back, and let their families make wrong decisions. The wrong will eventually become right, and they will have gained knowledge along the way. Knowledge that can only be acquired through your own mistakes. So they should really refrain from using the excuse as “they’re family” as an excuse, to meddle.

“Well i was a student”

Presumably a phrase which is continually repeated by thousands of recent graduates, i can count myself into that. I’m finding that after three years of answering “So what do you do?” With the obvious response of “oh i’m a student”, it’s suddenly difficult to respond. I was a student, now i’m an unemployed graduate; and an unemployed student seems more socially acceptable than an unemployed graduate.

Since walking out that final exam, about books which i’d rather forget i’ve found it remarkably easy to use the excuse of “i don’t know what degree class i have yet” as an excuse to avoid applying for any job which seems “grown up”. However, i do know it’s classification now, and i’m also aware that the jobs i’m applying for seem to scream “YOU’RE AN ADULT”, which is quite simply terrifying.

I’m guessing i’m not alone? Right?! Life after uni is difficult, you have to leave all the new friends you made, in my case the majority up North. Search for jobs; which as previously mentioned even with a degree you feel under qualified for. The former being governed by the latter, as without a job there’s no way of affording the train fare to see the people who, somewhat unfortunately, have come to know pretty much everything about you. We’re stuck in an emotional bubble, each of us bobbing along trying to navigate the future. As exciting as the prospect of having a regular income is, it’s still scary dealing with life after uni but at least, as we all move forward we can take the memories we made with us, and with it the inevitable people skills we’ve all gained. From how to write a passive aggressive email, to carefully understanding the best way to enquire who’s been using your razors… All of which will hopefully come in handy in the work place. If all else fails, there’s always further study to further avoid the inevitability of becoming working graduates.

‘On Beauty’ is rather beautiful.

After weeks of discussions in seminar classrooms, i noticed Zadie Smith’s name come up ALOT. So i thought i’d give her a read, scrawling through her books on my Kindle, ‘On Beauty’ caught my eye, about love, and all that other stereotypical stuff that girls flock to. Only it isn’t the stereotypical love story that we all know so well.

It’s about real love, the love i could never understand at twenty-one, the love between two people who have been married for thirty years. The love that’s been broken, and mended so many times, that people begin to question it. It’s beautiful. The way that it doesn’t conform to all the typical plot lines of a love story. Some would probably argue that it isn’t a love story at all; but it is. It just looks at love from a different angle, an angle we all look past because at twenty-one you don’t want to think about how fat you might get, or how your future family might irritate you.

It’s this which strikes me, it’s just simple, there’s no vampires declaring their undying love, no walks along the beach, and kissing in the rain. It leaves out all of that, and cuts through it all to the apparent tedium and repetition of marriage. When you grow tired of your husbands irritating habits, and you wish your wife was still as young and beautiful as when you first fell in love.

In my eyes it all comes back to one thing, that you don’t always get what you want, and things don’t always last. You can try, and try but sometimes it’s best to admit defeat… And realise you’re not the same person you were before. The simplicity of the novel asking you to look beyond the so overdone, and overused plot lines of romantic novels makes it brilliant. It’s beauty lies in its truth.

Seriously, stop with the quotes…

It has certainly been a while since i wrote something on here. I have fallen prey to writers block, and by this i mean nothing interesting is happening worth discussing. However, luckily for you, something hit me whilst reading an article on Buzzfeed. An author was commenting on how, she liked reading snippets of poems, but on further inspection of the full poem, she finds them boring. I agree, i think i’ve only ever read two or three poems, which i have actually enjoyed. The rest just bore me, they rarely make sense, and the punctuation always throws me. Blasphemy coming from a, now ex, literature student. But the truth all the same.

There’s something about taking a quote out of its context, it means so much more. You can add it in to fit your own situation. Make it sound how you want it to sound, sometimes other people say things better than you can. We’ve all been in a situation, where after an argument, in reinterpreting the events to someone, they say what you should have said, and you kick yourself. It’s the same with quotes, you can be reading, watching a film, or listening to music, and you hear something which resonates with your current mood. It perfectly explains everything, yet when you continue to read/watch/listen, the situation is different to yours.

I suppose it’s like everything, things come around at the wrong time, in the wrong situation, but then something better comes around and you wonder why you ever cared in the beginning. Waitings not all bad, waiting lets you see what you want, or what you need. What i need now is a job, as i’m finding days filled with nothing to do, are simply not all they’re cracked out to be.

Don’t steal my crazy.

There’s always been the theory that the people around us, have in some way influenced who we are and what we like. I don’t dispute it wholly, but i can see a few flaws. For example i still hate football, even after twenty-one years of my brother insisting it be on ALL THE TIME.

I realised this, in my stressed, slightly angry mood. With the memory of a recent conversation with a friend of ten years. We realised that we have different tastes in pretty much everything. For example, i like Game of Thrones and she doesn’t watch Game of Thrones… I like beards and she hates them. Despite this we rub along quite nicely. I’ve never tried to change her, and her me, well not recently anyway… There were a few moments in year seven. So with that in mind, how is it that the people around us influence us? Because after ten years, i still dislike R ‘n’ B and she still dislikes my eclectic collection of music.

I agree, that the people around us have a way of stopping us from being complete dicks, well or else you happen to stay in the company of dick heads. I just don’t think it’s fair to say that they change us, because i don’t think anybody ever does, and if they do i think you’d agree that it comes from somewhere other than the company we keep. I’d prefer to think of it as them bringing the crazy out in us, as opposed to them crafting you into a perfect cut-up of someone else (Too much Burroughs). I mean, it’s got to be in there somewhere, they just help tease it out.

King Joffery what?!

To be honest i’m not quite sure, which was the worst part about last night’s dream. The stressy, oh my god i’m going to miss my conference paper, or the fact Game of Thrones Joffery, with his purple face a’twitching spat at me. I mean, dreams make little sense at the best of times, but i really didn’t need to wake up at 2am confused to the high heavens. I appreciate a vivid dream, i quite like waking up and remembering them, always strange and never making sense. But some are so fundamentally ridiculous that it makes you wonder how your mind concocts them. For example, this particular dream alternated between, some friends old house, and my front room, buying hair scrunchies. With the added terror of being set upon, by one of fictions most notorious villains. It is not needed brain, and i am somewhat apprehensive to find out if he is successful in seeing me off in tonights dream, it’s like a bad ‘To be continued’,
on a low budget drama, where the camera shakes, and the sets look like GCSE art projects. Welcome to the world of the subconscious; where little makes sense, and you’re left in a whirl wind of confusion… Bit like Philosophy really.

And in case you were wondering, i didn’t miss my conference paper… It wasn’t even today. Thanks brain.

Nonsensical Sense: Part Two

It’s that time of year again, where all women, and some men, are aiming to lose weight and get fit for their holiday. Is the notion of this not highly ironic? I mean, don’t get me wrong i have nothing against losing weight for holiday, we all want to feel good for something we’ve spent months excited for. It is, however ironic that we all spend weeks being healthy, and active for a week or two of excess in the Summer. Excess, which completely undoes all our hard work. What? It makes no sense, but then again as Martin Amis wrote, “I keep expecting the world to make sense. It doesn’t. It won’t. Ever.” The worlds lack of sense does add a little spice to life, if it’s never going to make sense, then why bother being sensible. We may as well enjoy the nonsensical world, so that when we’re all married off, with 2.5 kids, the walls will be filled with photographs of the stupid things we did in the quest for fun.

Skillfully procrastinating

I’ve talked in an abundance about the art of distraction, i’m pretty damn good at it. There’s something quite appealing about putting off what needs to be done now, for a few more hours. At least then, when you’re in a mad panic, thinking the worlds about to come to an end because you can’t find a reference to the quote you’re whole paragraph pivots around, you know deep down inside, the two hours you spent aimlessly wondering around the house, telling yourself that you were hungry, was all worth it. Humm, i’m not sold myself either, but it is just how it is. The added chaos that two puppies brings to the house is also a little distracting, but then again i did promise that they wouldn’t distract me.. but then they’re all fluffy, and like me are aimlessly wandering around the house trying to figure out what they’re doing. Which in retrospect is rather a good analogy for myself at this moment in time. I’m somewhat chaotically, wondering around the internet trying to find the appropriate material for an essay, which at the moment i feel is lacking any direction. Although, i’m not attacking my siblings in the process, but i suppose there is still time yet. I like aimlessly wandering, because along the way i am finding things that i didn’t know i needed, which i do. I suppose like a puppy, who along the way works out that if you attempt to jump over a water bowl half the size of you, you will fall in it and you will get wet. Everything has some kind of direction, even when we think that it doesn’t, without it we probably all wouldn’t be in the situations we are in now. A lack of direction is not always the worst thing to happen to a person. However, i really need to start directing my attention somewhere productive, otherwise i shall be jobless and degree-less and nobody wants that. 


Chapter One.

If our lives are one long novel, when does the chapter with the lack of essays come about? Because, i’m finding that there is a certain element of repetition about life at the moment. When is all the fun going to begin? I am currently, sat in an endless loop of work, uni and assignments. The Easter break has lovingly released me of two of the aforementioned repetitions in the loop, which has led to the well known stress of assignments. I love uni, i don’t want to leave in fact, but what is with the bulk of assessment been thrown at me now? I wasn’t expecting third year to be easy, but i also wasn’t expecting to inadvertently become good at inspirational speeches on getting work done, which has been needed A LOT in recent weeks. Unfortunately i don’t seem to be able to apply my own words of wisdom to myself. Instead i have copious amounts of tea and eat… everything. in. sight. This degree will leave me fat and looking like a tea bag. No fear, it will all be worth it, when i have a degree in English Literature and Philosophy and i can genuinely say that i don’t have to read any more French translations of French Philosophers, who are confusing at the best of times. I know that you shouldn’t wish your life away, and i am torn, because i’m half wishing the time away to have finished all four pieces of work and to be able to get drunk in the middle of the day like a normal student. However, at the same time with that comes the crushing fact that university will be over. There will be no more Liverpool and living with the Northerners who irritatingly call me Southern, with me heartily defending that the Midlands is a real place. I have no idea what life after uni has to hold, and that is one terrifying prospect, however i do know one thing, i can literally go on to do whatever i want to do… which isn’t do a PGCE, just in case anyone hadn’t read the previous post and seen my complete lack of interest in becoming a teacher. Although the end of being student is a nerve wracking thought, it’s also incredibly exciting, the next chapter is around the corner and  as it gets closer the more excited i am to see what it holds… Hopefully not a ‘red wedding’, cause that’s a chapter nobody wants in their novel.