Summer Project.

I have officially given myself a summer project. I will not reveal what it is for if I do I fear it will never be accomplished. And I am certain that keeping it a secret endeavour will inspire me to achieve it and then to surprise people with the finished product.

I'm hoping this summer project will allow me to do something I've always wanted to, if it is completed I will be most pleased. It will prove to myself that I can work hard to make things happen, and I think that's an important skill to learn that I haven't quite mastered yet.

I will keep you updated when the said project is, hopefully, done.

What does being a feminist entail then?

My male friend asked me the other day when I claimed to be passionate about feminism, "What does being a feminist entail then?" For the moment I replied, "Believing in the equality of every man and woman regarding every race, sexuality and religion." He nodded and then said "Oh, okay then."

I like to be under the impression that my response made him think. Or at least understand a little more of what I so ardently believe in. I am also sure that he agreed with me, even though he didn't then suddenly propose to also be a feminist and attempt to fight for equality. I think it was because my friend  found the F word a little daunting, certainly as a teenage boy. Maybe he believed some great commitment was attached to declaring one's self as a feminist, as if you have to go through an initiation process and give sacrifice as you swear never to be sexist or discriminating. I was worried he thought I'd suddenly pull off a mask and reveal my true feminist identity as a butch girl wearing no bra and having a shaved head and hairy armpits. That my girly skater skirt would slowly fade away into shapeless shorts.

Perhaps it was the uncertain concept of the 'ism' usually involving some sort of war and a band of opposing 'isms' to follow. What I don't think has ever been explained to him or most people in general is that feminism isn't a political ideology, or a particular way of life, it is simply an active or passive agreement to fight as peacefully as possible against the discrimination of any human being.

I don't think anyone has officially told my generation about the new age of feminism, about its revised meaning. That whilst the original hard bearing feminists of the 60s/70s, or the suffragettes, were forced to be fairly aggressive in method in order to reach some form of equality between genders, they have now given us the chance to push this equality to be absolute. They have given us the chance to be able to express this new feminism so openly, and so widely.

We should be informing the ignorant not to forget or criticise our bra burning warriors of equality, but to learn and understand from them that we need to continue the fight until it is done.

I think feminism needs to start being promoted as a thing to be proud of. Not as a way of life, or a definite commitment, or a daunting, aggressive opinion, but as a united crusade for every man and woman to have equal rights. And that it does not need to change your image or person because feminism is as much about choice than anything.

All kids need Netflix.

I try not to take for granted the fact that my teenage life is privileged and wonderful and has the power to give me a secure future. I complain about my school work, and the pressure I am under for certain examinations and qualifications needed for the further education I will most likely proceed to attend. I go home exhausted and feel the early morning wake up the next day daunting.

I concern myself with what I should wear at the weekend, and how I should do my hair tomorrow. I wonder if I have enough allowance left to go to the cinema with my friends, or whether I should start saving up for the car I so obviously am not going to be able to afford in two years time. I plan my future home out on Pinterest, and procrastinate for hours on Twitter pretending I have nothing to do.

I'm devastated when it doesn't work out between Joey and Dawson on Dawson's Creek. Or when Jess and Nick don't get together on New Girl. Or debate whether to rewatch Green Wing again on that ever growing black hole of procrastination known as Netflix.

I have excited, fangirl discussions about books amongst my friends, and squeal at our favourite parts and laugh and tease each other because very little concerns us in the world.

What I endeavour to teach myself is to never forget the other teenagers around the world who will live in parallel universes to me and grow up without my privelages. Who won't have buckets of time to spend lounging around procrastinating, or worry about what dress to wear to a party, or even get stressed out with school work.

I want to enjoy my school career as much as possible to get the most out of the advantage I've been given with an education. I want to for the kids who long to be taught to write and to count, I want to to use the right I have as a person to learn and gain knowledge.

I want to savour all the trivial moments I will have, to remember that I am so incredibly lucky I don't have to look after a family, or earn money to live, or scavenge across a rubbish tip to survive. I want to to understand that my life is good, and that all the bad things in it are minuscule compared to the issues others have to face.

I don't want to take my teenage years for granted because one day I want to be able to give a new generation the chance to live free and wild like young people should in parts of the world where right now that's impossible. I may not do it alone, but I want to be a part of something that liberates teenagers all over the world to take advantage of the rights they have, but may not have access to.

Out in all weathers.

I can walk just a minute out of my house and be in these beautiful fields and woods, that are essentially my back garden. Today I decided to go on a walk through them, despite the sky spitting down and the plants being damp and the earth very soggy. And although the clouds were grey and endless, it was a very lovely stroll. The air was incredibly humid, the smell almost like wine. The dampness of it all made the green even greener, and the leaves gleam like precious jewels. I did not mind the squelching of mud beneath my feet, it was satisfying. The pattering of drops on the grasses around me did not make me sad or annoyed, instead they were comforting.

It was a fantastic walk, the kind you can daydream on and comeback totally refreshed. The heaviness of the weather did not get me down or make me say "Oh what a miserable day." instead I took my time to notice how the world looks when the sun is not shining.

What I mean to say is that you mustn't complain about the weather, because there is absolutely nothing on earth you can do to change it. The world does not become ugly or miserable if the clouds dominate the sky, it stays beautiful but in a different light. The next time the heavens open and the rain pours from the sky, do not complain, notice how wonderfully strange rain is. It makes life a little more interesting, and one a little happier too.

Hours will be lost.

The other day I was sitting in bed when I suddenly had this brilliant memory flash in my mind and remind  me of something I had completely forgotten. It was a fantastic moment that once remembered I felt instantly happy, but when I thought about the fact it was so distant now it made me sad.

I thought how easy it is to forget our blissful memories losing them to the past that was at once our present and only conscious image now buried frantically under every new hour. That a time once so prominent and significant to us is thrown away to today's present, where tomorrow does not even exist.

How many other moments have I unknowingly lost in that mysterious brain of mine? I have lived thousands of hours and intend to live thousands more but they will all be squashed and forgotten so mercilessly under the ever growing present and future.

Why must some moments stick out forever and never be taken away by time and others, although equally as important, be locked in a box deep in my subconscious? If I could only choose when they slip out occasionally and perform me a show of my own past.

For I do not suggest dwelling on our personal histories, but to let them disappear forever seems an awful shame. Must my subconscious and time only choose to remember? Can I not decide when to make the present and future pause for a moment whilst I happily, or solemnly, dip into my memory?

I am glad that I got to remember that one brilliant memory, but I can only hope that the hundreds I have hiding somewhere miraculously spring out and surprise me in a similar manner. It would certainly be a tragedy to know I could never bring my past to life and only to let it die in the back of my unthinking mind.

To swing on a swing.

The best feeling is the sensation of being on a swing. The swoosh through the air as you push upside down and greet the view behind you with that excited tickle you get in such movements is just so wonderful. Or lying horizontal for only seconds as you reach the height and look at the sky in all its massiveness. Or watching your feet as you swing up and down, pointed as the sun catches them for a few moments each time.

How refreshing, to swing on a swing. The cheapest method of flying.

Street Harassment.

I'm not entirely sure what makes certain men believe it is okay to address me from their cars as I walk past because they like the way I look without any regard for how I may feel afterwards. The excuse is often that I should feel flattered I had someone embarrass me in public by shouting "Alright, love!" out of the car window and that it should boost my body confidence. It didn't.

What I felt was self-conscious at first, because I'd been rudely alerted to the fact someone was objectifying my body in a purely sexual way. And then I felt angry, a little upset even, that I didn't have any control over that. I was wearing shorts because it was hot and that's what I felt comfortable in but after that incident I wanted to hide my legs away unless some other man was to call at me from inside his car in front of my own mother and make me feel very embarrassed.

He wouldn't have said anything to me if he'd walked past, he may have looked but he wouldn't have made me feel uncomfortable about it. That's because in the safety of his own vehicle he feels he can shout across at a stranger if he fancies them without them turning round and telling him exactly where to stick his implications.

It wasn't out of politeness that he addressed me, or common courtesy, it was because he believed he had this right by fancying me to call at me. And what upset me was that I couldn't do anything about it, although it was a short moment of my life I couldn't tell him that he didn't have a chance in hell if he shouted out to random women like that.

I am now wishing I could go back and tell him exactly what I thought of him and why next time don't shout out to people you don't know in the vain hope that they'll want anything to do with you.

Just don't be involved with any kind of street harassment because it's really quite disrespectful. It's as simple as that.