Friday, 24 June 2016

Giving the finger and moving on to better things.

I went out with my friends last night and I had managed to forget about the referendum until someone got a news alert on their phone of the most recent poll. It was 1:30 in the morning, it wasn't looking hopeful, I started to cry on the dance-floor.

I looked across at my friend George and he looked just as heartbroken as I felt. We hadn't done it, we were going to lose the EU.

I woke up this morning, now hungover and still anxious to read the news, to find that our fears had materialised. An entire wad of idiots had squashed our abundant, interesting opportunities. The older generation quite literally snatched the toys from the baby's hands. People had forgotten how democracy works and didn't realise that their vote "would actually mean anything". It's almost as if brains melted yesterday on the way to the polling stations. And now, what are we to do?

We're going to figure it out.

I am becoming more and more proud of my generation. I think we have a real thing going for us. I think we're driven and clever and waking up from the docile slumber everyone's been under. I think we mean change. I think we can cope with this enormous historical event. I want to tell my peers not to give up, that we can use this for our advantage. This may have turned our future on its head but that could be a good thing. That could push us into properly defending ourselves against the increasingly nasty, right-wing government. We are not a right-wing generation, I'm not sure what we are yet. This is our chance to work it out.

I am bitterly disappointed about what has happened in the referendum. I am disappointed in the older generation, in the politicians, in the unbearable selfishness of this whole thing. But I am not entirely in despair. I won't let myself be. Let this shake us up, wake us up, drag us out of bed and scream in our faces from the streets outside. We're the first generation of the technological age; I think we know exactly what to do with that advantage. That is our weapon. We have our virtual world to protect us. I have faith in that. And, if others have less faith than I do then I want to demonstrate its power. I don't know how yet, but I won't just sit here and let this wash over us. I'll probably write about it, I'll probably try to make discussions happen and open people's eyes. I think that's what I'll set out to do. I think our generation could be revolutionary. I think we can get over this very large and terribly inconvenient obstacle. I think we can give everyone who's let us down the finger and move on to better things. I think I'm going to be doing that from now on.

Thursday, 23 June 2016


I don't know how qualified I am to form important political views. I normally go by my instinct, which answer seems more humane. Is that enough? In fact, I'm still finding it hard to think too deeply on world issues. I find it makes me too upset, too angry, too vexed. I want to listen and watch, but it's so heart breaking. And I am helpless, and my blood boils.

I am almost repulsed by politics. I find it hard to follow constantly. I've never understood those who are always watching, listening, reading about politics. How are they not exhausted?

I've avoided all the televised debates on the referendum because I know it will not help my decision, nor will it have changed anyone's minds, only reinforced ideas.

I don't want to leave the EU tomorrow. It upsets me when I think about it. I don't want to be left in the hands of people who find non-existent problems with immigrants to create a hateful stigma around innocent human beings. I can't be doing with the smugness of the leave campaign, there's an unsavoury arrogance about it. I can't be doing with the stay in campaign either for that matter, it seems meek and pathetic by comparison. I hope we look back on this, whatever the outcome, and learn from it. We probably won't. I think I'm going through my political disillusionment because it's tiring and unending and demoralising. I don't feel very hopeful about it. I can't even vote for the party I'd like in my constituency.

Today will be my first ever vote in one the most important political decisions for years to come. I will be voting remain because I have found myself disagreeing with almost everything that leave has said. That's definitely a good enough reason. I don't agree with the xenophobia, the toxic untruths, the wild exaggerations. The idea that our "sovereignty" will be restored if we leave makes me laugh. Do they mean the sovereignty voted for in our undemocratic voting system? I certainly won't be represented if Gove and Boris are allowed to take the reigns. I doubt many others will be either.

I have no time for the Leave campaign because it goes against mostly everything I stand for. If it wins I will be genuinely devastated. It will be my generation that will have to deal with the mess, most of us want to remain. Where's the democracy in that?

Friday, 17 June 2016

Oh my, oh my.

Oh my, oh my. It's done. It's over. It's finished. My exams season has ended.

It was like ripping off a plaster except slowly and painfully with hairs pulled out and the skin refusing to come off the adhesive. It wasn't pretty.

It feels almost strange to be staring at the blank page of a new post again. I'd had to forget about it for a while. I haven't yet much to say, my brain is still reassembling itself to the me it was before I went into hibernation. I still have that underlying sensation of guilt leftover from a never-ending reminder that there was revision to do. I think that will disappear when I realise I can do fun things again. Like watch TV without feeling a sense of remorse. The little things.

I hope summer brings new inspiration. I hope thoughts form in my mind well enough for me to express them here, or elsewhere.

I'm just going to enjoy the relief for now. Thank goodness.

Saturday, 14 May 2016

My life for 13 years comes to its end.

I left school officially yesterday. Well, I still have to return for exams and the dreaded results day. It was strange; I expected to feel sadder, more nostalgic but instead I went through the day as if it were normal (apart from the convict outfits, the horse in the headteacher's parking space, and water fight on the field).

The day was fun and exciting. We all signed each other's yearbooks with messages we'll  read years later half remembering the faces who wrote them. I didn't feel remorse or anguish. I will miss people, but I will also watch their lives unfurl on social media. We won't be so detached from each other as previous generations may have been, perhaps that's why. Perhaps because my sister will still attend the school I don't feel totally distanced from it. Although I suspect next week when I realise I won't ever have any lessons with classmates and a formal teacher we call Miss or Sir I will feel a little sad. My life for 13 years comes to its end.

The people you meet at school are a unique and strange bunch. We are banded together mostly randomly and fight and laugh and cry all the way to the end. All the while dreaming of that weakly envisioned future where we get to escape. I don't know what all of their futures will be, or what they have been dreaming of. It'll be interesting to watch everyone find their way.

I'm excited about all the reading I can do when exams are over. All the parties, and travelling, and writing and thinking (I'll have space to think). All the freedom I'll have. But what an earth do I do with that freedom? What if I forget to do what I told myself to do in the build up to this moment?

I'm slightly scared for the future more than anything. School is a safeguard. For me it has become a form or procrastination. I don't have to face the rest of my life when I'm working hard for exams. But the rest of my life is at the edge of my finger tips now; no waiting and daydreaming about who I will be when I grow up. I am going to be that grown up very soon. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I think I lost my plan along the way. It feels too real.

I don't know what it feels like to abandon 13 years of routine but I'll soon find out. I expect I will feel both liberated and lost. The world is big out there, I haven't really been in it yet.

Saturday, 30 April 2016

What is it to be happy?

What is it to be happy?

I haven't worked this out yet. It seems almost random. I know what makes me happy; syrupy, dandelion sunshine; singing with my sister; walking with my dad; being with my mum. I feel relieved to see my friends, to laugh with them. I like to feel my love for them rise to my chest whenever we're together.

But these things don't always mean total happiness. They just promise it.

The happiness where everything is slotted into place is random. Not everything will be slotted into place, but something feels perfected. This morning I laughed out loud for no reason. I was happy to be alive. I was hopeful for the rest of my life. That was random.

Where does that happiness come from? Can we take a drug for it?

It has lasted all day and I have felt complete. No holes in this feeling. No heavy, leaded heart.

I am excited about this feeling. About its randomness. I like this rollercoaster life. The soaring in the sky and the slow drag at the bottom.

I don't really care where this happiness comes from.

Saturday, 16 April 2016

To my mother, who loves me.

I am incredibly close to my mum because she is an excellent mother. She swears and screams at me when I misbehave, and I swear and scream and cry at her when she is annoying as hell. I remember the first time I eloquently shouted "fuck off" at her in a fit of passion when we were driving in the car and she was probably discussing school work and I decided to untie years of etiquette that I shouldn't swear in her presence because it was the best way to let out how I felt. I think rather than being a moment of extreme disrespect for my parent it became another level of communication between us. Somehow it was a move into our more adult relationship. If being adult means speaking crudely in extreme situations. Or any situation. But it was certainly a move to being closer to my mother, which I feel happens each day, no matter how much we loath what the other may have done. Mum says that she feels safe in the knowledge that whatever awful thing we spit out at each other means absolutely nothing and that love still flows between us no matter what. I think she's correct. 

Why does my mum always know what to say? And yet, sometimes, when she asks for my help I am lost for words. Does she know me through some divine connection for having created me? Can she read my mind? 

My mum is the one person in this world who knows just as much about myself as I do. I tell her everything. I am not one to keep my secrets to myself, so to have another person who can absorb them for me is the best thing I've ever been given. I am never judged, never shouted at, never ignored when I go to my mother with my horrible, hurtful thoughts. I think she could be the only reason I haven't gone completely mad yet. 

I have the absolute comfort in knowing that wherever I am in the world even her voice over the phone can soothe my worried heart, my whirring mind, my fidgeting hands. She can cure my sickness if I lie next to her in her bed. She can take my biggest heartfelt concerns and store them away from my overthinking head when I tell them to her on sleepless, crying nights. 

There was probably a time when I distanced myself from my mother experimentally. Failing to recognise her importance, her vitality to my being. I don't think that everybody has the choice to come back to their mother in some intense and lovely attachment after those lonely teenage years spent rejecting her existence. I did have that choice, and now I sit with the pleasant acknowledgement that in my heart is some powerful, invisible line across two bodies that attaches me to her every hour of every day. It may be a little strange to suggest that perhaps my mother and I are soulmates, but I'm beginning to believe that the notion of such intrinsic connection to another person has little to do with romance and much more to do with the random and perfect compatibility of two people. 

Thursday, 7 April 2016

Boring boring boring.

Right now my life consists of absolute monotony. I get up, I have breakfast, I get dressed and at 10 O'clock I begin revision.

It is as boring as boring can be.

I begin to think of the 15 million things I would rather be doing than making a spider diagram of Elizabeth I's foreign policy in the years 1571 to 1588. I ignore all of those things, and force myself to focus on the blurring, green, ugly writing on the page. It's so boring it hurts. I fantasise about everything I can do in the evening when I'm finally free from that day's work. But, when I actually get to the evening I seem to do nothing. Too brain dead to conjure up any enthusiasm for something fun. I let my mind turn to mush, probably letting it turn over the things that I put in it earlier that day. My Easter break started over 10 days ago but I can't remember much of what's happened, it's all been the same. I went to Paris, so that memory is stark against the sea of unexciting notes and past papers, but everything else has been one long revision session. I feel like it's Groundhog Day.

I have over a month to go until exams, and a further month after that whilst exams go on. It's going to be like this. All the time. I don't have much brain space for that time. I'll write whatever dull thing comes into my mind to keep me sane. I'm so not excited.

Wish me luck.