Leaves

I used to look at the moon every night
to remind myself how small I am

But now I look at the leaves caught in the wind
And remind myself how big I can be

The University Problem

I'm at the stage where I'm kind of completely done with this whole university thing. As in, mentally I feel I am no longer able to carry on, not as in I made it through undergraduate study. If you've been following this blog from the start, you'll know that this is the second university I've gone to, and that I've really given it the best I've got. I began the year positive that there would be some drastic change, and that this university would be the one way I could stand to make it through to getting a degree. To be fair, it's a great uni as far as support has gone. I just don't think I'm cut out for uni in general.

Once you've had that couple of months break from education, like I did in between unis, it's really hard to go back. Going from earning money and being on your way to independence to go back to living in constant debt, questioning if milk is an important, responsible purchase for the week and counting out how much money I've earned working overtime to see if I'll be out of my overdraft for the month is EXHAUSTING. Adding to the money worries is the fact that Student Finance are STILL screwing me over. Since November. Apparently they now have a thick file of our correspondence, as I've made I-don't-know-how-many phone calls to them. And yes, I still have phone phobia.

Then there's the people. I don't know if maybe I've adapted to getting on with people a bit older than me now, but I really feel that the people of uni age are just immature. I don't mean to sound patronising or whatever, but I'm so over people being overly dramatic and stirring gossip like we're still in school. I've kind of given up talking to people at uni now because of bad experiences I've had with others-I've unfortunately lumped everyone together, even though I know that some of the people I've begun friendships with are genuinely nice.

My counsellor finally broke me today. All term, there's been an ominous box of tissues placed strategically next to me during the counselling sessions, and never once have I come close to needing them until today. Everything has just snowballed up until these last few weeks, it seems. I've had no free time to revise for the exams I have this week and even when I attempt to revise for them, there's something in my head that blocks me from taking anything in. I realised recently that the block is my brain telling me that I don't want to do this anymore. I only really was doing this for my parents anyway-like I know that a degree would benefit me in the long run, but I'm recently in the mind-set that I need to prioritise my mental health over career prospects and going to uni is actually driving me crazy. It's really hard to motivate yourself to study when you don't know what you're goal is at the end.

It's really difficult to start uni, going from being one of the "smart ones", the ones who seem to get through exams fine etc, to being in a place where everyone is "the smart one" and, in fact, struggling with the work. It's debilitating on your identity. This time around, I chose a subject that I have enjoyed my entire life and studying it at uni has turned it into something I detest. Every time I have to go to a lecture, I feel an overwhelming sense of dread, which has triggered a sizable number of panic attacks this term. I don't even care about getting a degree anymore, I've just been counting down the days until I can leave. I feel like it's been struggle enough to make it through this term, without an exam at the end to put the cherry on top of the disaster cake.

So, I'm going to take my exams this week, having done minimal revision (although not for lack of trying) and maybe I'll fail, and have an excuse to leave. Of course, I won't deliberately fail, that isn't the type of person I am. But I don't know what I'm going to do. At the moment, I just really don't want to be here.  

I'm the Best Worst Friend to Have

I feel like I let a lot of people down, most of the time. If someone invites me somewhere, I can never guarantee that I'll be there. When I do turn up to events, people can be surprised and act as if I'm deliberately trying to be mysterious. In actual fact, it's just difficult for me to be sociable sometimes. Being consciously terrified of saying the wrong thing or embarrassing myself the entire time I'm out is exhausting. It's worse when everyone's already friends and I'm just on the edge of conversation, slowly being pushed out. I really hope I don't come across as rude or whatever when I'm in a group, it's just that I overthink what I want to say to the point where I just can't say anything.

I had the same group of friends all through primary school and after making new friends at secondary school, I kept those throughout as well. Not to fault it; we all grew up together, and we'll probably always be in each other's lives in some way. It's just, maybe keeping the same people close to me has made me out of practice when I'm introduced to new people. I don't know, lately I seem to be the person people know, but don't actively see as a friend. It's kind of like being an inverted social butterfly; I can go from group to group and talk to people, but never really be too involved.

I often feel guilty for not knowing recent events with my friends back home, often hearing news really late. I'm really bad at keeping in contact with people, even if I genuinely care about them. I feel sad about growing apart from people from my past, but then it makes me wonder if we ever were that close to begin with. It's way too easy to dwell on things like this when I isolate myself in my room.

I appreciate every time I am invited to something, it makes me feel remembered. Just because I can be unreliable doesn't mean I don't want to come. So, to those people who take notice of new people in the group and try to involve them: I salute you! When people start to talk over someone, but you are the one person who listens: yes! People who make others feel involved are amongst the best in the world.

Youtube: Past and Present

We live in an age where the online world is rapidly becoming more popular than television and online figures are gaining celebrity status. With 300 hours of video being uploaded to Youtube every minute, the website provides endless and instant entertainment for free. Better still, if you have a Youtube account you can refine the videos so that only the content creators that you want to watch appear on your subscriptions feed, and creators similar to those you like are suggested, so that you can explore your interests.

Youtube was founded in 2005, but arguably gained status around 2007, when vlogging first became popular, and viewers became more interested in the comings and goings of strangers than cat videos (although who can beat a good cat video every now and then?). Vloggers such as "The Vlogbrothers", with their "Brotherhood 2.0" project, in which two brothers only contacted each other through their Youtube videos, became the forerunners of Youtube videos.

  I started to get interested in Youtube in around 2010, which now seems like the "innocent" days of the website. I liked vloggers such as Charlie McDonnell "Charlieissocoollike", Lex Croucher "tyrannosauruslexx" and Craig Benzine "WheezyWaiter". I was drawn to comedic vloggers who would fill up my time with entertainment, rather than people who would teach me anything. "The Vlogbrothers" were still going strong, although no longer undertaking their two year project, they provided me with knowledge about music, dumb historic facts and issues in America. One of the brothers, John Green, is a successful author, with two of his books being made in to films. I also liked the vlogger Alex Day, I found him very funny, and his friendship with Charlie McDonnell was admirable and inviting: they made you feel a part of a secret, nerdy culture that supported each other. However, this friendship ended last year, after allegations were made against Alex Day regarding sexual abuse, and due to this I have also stopped watching Alex's videos.

It is at this point that I will mention the popularity of the genre "British Male Vloggers that Appear Attractive to Young Female Girls". I don't understand why in particular they have to be British, but this is definitely a recognisable category of vloggers, who gain the type of followers that a popular boy band may get; often referred to as "fan girls". This was seen to be relatively harmless, until it came out that a number of these vloggers were allegedly sleeping with their underage fans, spawning a massive internet-wide debate over the issue of consent on Tumblr, Youtube and otherwise. This caused some prominent faces to disappear from the mainstream, with vloggers such as Alex Day being ousted from the internet by angry ex-fans. 

 

Many Youtubers took this as an opportunity to educate their young audiences about consent, making the best of a bad situation. They recognised how dangerous it was to have such young, impressionable fans being influenced by older people who were not moderated and were free to do as they please. Youtube gatherings had by this point turned from fun meet-ups, where you could chat to fellow viewers of a particular person, to fans just insanely mobbing their favourite Youtubers, and had become dangerous.

Now, I mostly watch Youtube to watch people play video games, which sounds odd, but this stems from me being terrible at video games myself and also from being one of the younger, female cousins in my family and therefore only being able to watch the older, male cousins play. I still watch Lex Croucher, and admire her growth from "funny Youtube personality" to someone who people can genuinely look up to in regards to her feminism and animal charity work.

Beauty gurus have gained a massive popularity of late; people who teach viewers how to apply make-up, style their hair, or share clothing hauls. A notable guru is Zoe Sugg, "Zoella", who has recently released a book, appeared in the Band Aid 30 Christmas song, competed in the BBC Bake- Off Celebrity Special and has just been placed as a waxwork inside Madame Tussauds. With rumours circling that she has bought a £1 million mansion, it is difficult for people to say that you can't reach celebrity status through Youtube anymore.

My Views on Religion

*Disclaimer: Yes, talking about religion is controversial. I respect people's beliefs and their freedom to believe what they want. I don't care what you believe in, as long as it doesn't cause harm to anyone, or persecute anyone. This is simply an account of my experiences with religion, and no one should feel offended by my lack of belief. I do not need to be "saved" from anything. This account is also mainly about Christianity and Catholicism, as they are the religions I was brought up with and am exposed to the most, so where "religion", read "Christianity" for most of the time.*

 

Technically, I am still a Roman Catholic, as the only way you can stop being a Roman Catholic is if the church actively kicks you out. I attended a catholic primary school, went to church relatively frequently and completed many of the steps that symbolised my dedication to the religion, such as having my Holy Communion and Confirmation. I was brought up being read bible stories and singing hymns, putting on Christmas plays AND Easter plays in my school. Literally no part of my childhood made me question my faith.

When I grew up and started secondary school, I was exposed to the idea of atheism and agnosticism, concepts I had never heard of before. In the beginning, I couldn't understand how people couldn't believe in God. In the end, I couldn't understand how people believed in God at all. A drastic shift in my religious beliefs occurred over a couple of years. I started to refuse to go to church, feeling like a fraud in pretending I had any belief left. I felt guilty because I had confirmed my faith so definitely when I was younger, to go back on it just felt wrong.

Then I realised. They had got me when I was young, when I still wasn't really able to make decisions for myself. My Holy Communion occurred when I was about seven or eight; my Confirmation when I was about twelve. I shouldn't have to feel trapped in a religion I no longer believed in because of choices I had made (or people had made for me) when I was so young. I feel sorry for people who reach this point but have to force themselves back into belief due to pressure from their family or peers. I was freely able to admit I was an atheist as my parents weren't at all strict when it came to religion (I think they are both pretty much atheist now anyway).

I can understand that religion brings many people comfort, and if it is all they know, then it is difficult for them to see beyond it. Some religious people say "If there is no God, then how do you explain a sunset", but do we really have to attribute the beauty we see in nature to an unknown, supernatural entity? Is it healthy for us to feel judged in everything we do; is it right to spend our life dedicating ourselves to working towards an afterlife we don't know exists, instead of enjoying the actual life we have?

While I feel that my somewhat religious upbringing definitely helped to make me a moral person, I am also able to be open minded and liberal, and acknowledge that what I believe in may not be what is right. Some religious people (and non-religious, to be fair) for example, believe absolutely that gay people should not be accepted in society, usually because they have found some obscure passage in the bible that they have decided hints at God's homophobia. Some people reject people from their communities because they are gay even if they are a close relative. Some gay people go through so much turmoil in not being able to come out to their parents because of their religion induced homophobia that they try to "fix" themselves.

Of course, being religious doesn't inherently make you homophobic or close-minded, but in my experience, it makes you much more likely to be. You have been taught that only a particular lifestyle is desired by God, and anything that deviates from that is to be feared; these people are going to hell. I am not even going to start on exactly how many wars and acts of terror are solely caused due to religious beliefs, however extreme the beliefs may be.

Yes, if used right, religion can be great. It can be a reason for people to get up in the morning, a life's purpose. It can help people overcome terrible times in their life, or help them to celebrate the good. It allows people to become a community, and is absolutely the biggest contributor to charities, helping people around the world. I don't know exactly what it was that made me stop believing in God, but now in my mind, I can't fathom why a God would exist at all. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy the Disney film, The Prince of Egypt, or eat Easter eggs, or celebrate Christmas.

My First Counselling Session

I started going to counselling sessions this term (so far, I've only been to one) because I am super insane and a risk to the general public (parodying mental illness stigmas for the win?). It was actually due to my crippling anxiety and the depression I faced last term that resulted in me eating nothing for like a week, but I digress...

I have always been quite open about my anxiety so it was easy for me to talk to the counsellor about stuff. My year of experience studying psychology at university didn't really help though, as the counsellor kept saying "How do you feel about that?" and I kept wanting to laugh at how clichéd it was. There was a box of tissues placed ominously close to my chair, which was a slouchy, beige number to match the beige room, that you either had to sit really far forward and upright in, or you would end up pretty much lying down in it.

As much as I mock, my counsellor was lovely; super understanding, easy to talk to, sensed I had a terrible sense of direction and showed me the way into the building for next time, the whole experience was great. I am now looking forward to my next counselling session more than my next lecture. Which is maybe bad. 

The session made me look at myself from a different perspective and it was quite strange to have someone sympathise with me. I usually hate to be the centre of attention and reject compliments immediately, but having someone sit there will the sole purpose of helping me to build myself back up was oddly reassuring. Yes, there were some things I found awkward, like being told I was obviously intelligent many times (how do people react to compliments?! I sit and laugh awkwardly, this is obviously not correct).

I thought I'd feel self-conscious and analysed, but really, it was nice to vent. I used to think counselling was absolutely not for me; I thought it'd trigger panic attacks and be pointless as I am so open anyway, but actually, it made me realise I don't think about myself enough. It's a nice way to, not be selfish per se, but to finally start taking care of my mental wellbeing, the same way people take care of their physical wellbeing by going on a diet or getting their nails done.

It's important to note that a counsellor's job isn't particularly to tell you all the answers to your problems, but to (as cheesy as it sounds) help you help yourself. A worrying number of students suffer silently from mental health problems, not knowing how to help themselves. If you attend a university as awesome as mine, you have easy, free access to people who can help you, as long as you summon up the courage to contact them. If not, you can talk to your GP about looking for a counsellor, although in this circumstance, be prepared to shell out some cash as you are more than likely going to have to pay for one. There are also people available online and through telephone who you can talk to, who you can find if you browse the web enough.

For students at UoB, everyone you need to contact can be found here.

Being a Night Owl

You may notice some of my posts go up past midnight occasionally. This is because I rarely sleep before midnight, in fact if I do, I usually end up waking up at like 5 a.m. which isn't particularly practical. I prefer the night time- it feels like I have far fewer responsibilities at night for some reason. You don't have to talk to anyone and everything's quiet. You can do pretty much what you like.

If you look outside, the world is different, calmer. The few cars that pass outside seem more purposeful in their travels. You notice more of the nature around you; the foxes come out and you can watch silently from your window as they bring their cubs to explore your front garden. There's more space to think, to think about the day that's passed and try to plan out what you want for the next day or for years to come.

It's at night that I decided I needed to move university. In fact, I've made most of the important decisions of my life when I should have been a couple of hours into a deep slumber. But night time isn't just for thinking, it's mostly for relaxing. You can spend far longer watching programmes on the internet during the night without feeling guilty than during the day. During the night, it's fine if you don't make the effort to make a meal and just snack.

You don't have the anxiety that you might bump into someone and have to make conversation. You don't feel like you have to do work (unless you have intentionally pulled an all-nighter for that purpose) because night time doesn't count. You don't have to continue that difficult conversation because they've gone to sleep.

The only guilt you feel is when the birds start to chirp outside, and the darkness fades to sunrise. For night owls, the sunrise isn't such a beautiful sight as others might consider it to be. It's the sign that you've stayed up too late, that now you have to be a responsible adult during the day on 2 hours of sleep, if that. Fingers crossed you've got your de-zombifying technique down (drink plenty of water, eat breakfast, try to imagine you didn't spend all night staring at a laptop screen) roll out of bed and into the daytime.

Mother's Day Blues

Mother's Day today has made me especially nostalgic and homesick. These last two years, I have realised just how much my parents do for me and how much I rely on their support. When you're little, your parents are the worst people in the world because they make you eat broccoli and don't let you do the things your friend's parents let them do. You argue over such stupid things. You neglect the little moments you spend together, where you've taken a day trip out together, or have done something in the small hours between finishing school and bedtime.

I remember as a small child seeing a teenager out with their parent and they seemed to get along, whereas I percieved that all teenagers hated their parents. I vowed that I would always get along with my mum, idealizing being a teenager who walked about holding her mum's hand. Obviously that was a somewhat ridiculous notion, and of course I went through the stage where I didn't want to be seen outside with my parents. I just hope I didn't upset them too much when I scoffed at their mentionings of spending time together; I hope I never made them feel neglected by me.

Not being able to go home on mother's day is breaking my heart because I'm unable to participate in the yearly tradition of buying my mum daffodils (only great big yellow ones, none of the white or orange cop-outs) and going out to Chartwell House. My mum's told me they're not going to Chartwell this year because it's raining, they're going to Costco instead, to pick up ten tonnes of food shopping. Not exactly how she would choose to spend mother's day. My sister is still in the stage where she somewhat hates her parents, so I wonder if my mum will even get a present this year.

It's funny how distant from your parents being a teenager makes you, and then being in your 20s springboards you back closer to them. Even though I was only home last week, I can't wait until I get to go home next weekend and see my family. I've been trying not to get homesick as it is, but seeing everyone posting pictures with their mum on mother's day has definitely made me count the seconds until I can get in my car and drive home.

On Writing

When I was younger, the dream was to become an author. This was the age where I was into Jacqueline Wilson; I even went to see her to get some books signed and told her I wanted to be an author. I think this thought stemmed from when I was really young, when I took it upon myself to copy out half of a Cinderella book into a notebook. I soon grew bored of just copying, so I made up my own ending. Reading it back, it's so terrible, but at least it made me use my imagination at a young age.

From here, I began to write my own stories, and went through numerous notebooks in the process. I enjoyed imagining myself in these worlds I had created, and especially liked giving the stories to my family and getting a response to them. In primary school, we had specific times dedicated to creative writing, and I would just write solidly for an hour and a half, or however long those times were, filling up pages upon pages of my exercise books. My teacher would encourage me by letting me read my stories out to the class at the end of the session, which I enjoyed, except from the time I had reached a particularly gory stage in my imagination and became embarrassed when I had to read out my story about a man ripping his own heart from his chest.

I can remember to this day the disappointment I felt in myself after writing the most terrible story in the creative writing section of my 11+. The exam paper gave an introduction to a story, and you had to finish it whilst showing off creative skills, as well as good grammar and spelling. My nerves got to me, and I just wrote without really thinking it through, scared I would run out of time with nothing written on the paper. I remember I wrote about a weird pixie creature (from the planet Eixip, no less) visiting this girl in the middle of the night. I even cringed at it myself after I wrote it, and I was 11. After the exam, I asked the girl sitting next to me, of whom I had made friends with, what she had written, and it was some detailed detective story. I thought for sure I had failed the exam, but surprisingly passed.

Even into secondary school, I would make the most of creative writing assignments (thin on the ground as they were, and usually a small part of a larger, assessed module). My mum would often ask for copies of my stories and hand them out to the family (we're THAT kind of family). At this stage though, I hated being graded on my stories-I put too much of myself into them and could immerse myself too much in their world to care about what some teacher had defaced them with. It was at this point that I stopped writing. I had too much time devoted to revising subjects I didn't care about, like maths and religious studies, but it was important that I got a GCSE grade for them, so that I could forget about them for the rest of my life.

I feel that the latter part of secondary school stunted my creativity. That's probably harsh to say, but that's how I feel. Everything seemed guided towards getting the perfect grade, not exploring the parts of a subject that you enjoyed. I understand that's what school is like now and whether that's a good or bad thing is another discussion. Even in my favourite subject, English, which I enjoyed, I felt limited. Essay structures prevented you from steering away from the question at hand, meaning you didn't really explore away from set topics. I had stopped reading and writing in my spare time completely.

It's only now at university where I've been able to feel creative in my writing again. Yes, I am still restricted within structures and guidelines, but have more time to explore topics that interest me, because I'm not devoting that time to studying subjects that have no relevance to me (like MATHS!). This blog especially has helped me explore things that interest me, and helped me to find out my opinions on things that didn't even cross my mind before. While I am restricted in the way I set it out (so it's readable etc), I can write about whatever. And that's great.

Being a Baby

Apologies for the lack of posting recently, everything's been a bit manic.

I quite enjoy being short, it allows me to blend into the crowd and hide easily. I don't know why, but it also makes me feel more feminine; if I am wearing heels and am taller than the majority of the guys I am with, I feel like an ogre. However, being short also emphasises how ridiculously young I look-my sister is way taller than me and she is three years younger than I am. One time, we got asked if we were twins, which was awful for us both because we both aspire to be nothing like each other! As well as being short, I have a round face, which further makes me look like a child. No matter what amount of compensating I do with my fringe, I have yet to overcome it.

Older people don't understand why it is such a burden to look young. "When you're older, you'll wish you looked younger", they patronisingly say. They don't understand the difficulties of having to carry around ID EVERYWHERE you go, in case you end up in a pub or need to buy a lighter. I attended a party the other week and some guys who were sitting next to me really loudly whispered to each other that people starting uni were getting younger and younger, clearly talking about me, even though due to starting this university a year late, I was actually older than half the people in the room.

At least I share this trait with a number of celebrities, and at least I am not yet a thirty year old who still looks underage. My favourite example of a celebrity who looks half their age is Lauren Mayberry, lead singer in the band Chvrches, who is twenty-seven. I love her band and feel like I can relate to her on some level because of the age thing.

Choosing clothes is difficult. I had to avoid the dungaree trend a few years ago in order not to look like a toddler. On the other end of the scale, if you want to dress up to go out, you wonder whether you can get away with more risqué clothes, or if you will look like a try-hard. Despite having to carry round ID to prove you are in fact the age that you are, if you try to get away with child tickets on public transport, suddenly it's ridiculous that you would be considered underage. I haven't tried to get away with that for a number of years, after barely getting away with it due to my hotter friend flirting with the bus driver.

The worst is when you realise how old you are in relation to those around you. In my first year of university now, I am constantly surprised that the people I am talking to are younger than me. Similarly, I used to work with a load of sixteen/seventeen year olds, and they couldn't believe I was twenty and not their age. It becomes really difficult to judge people's age when you first meet them. It is so depressing to be told you look really young, because of the amount you feel you have changed since that age. Since I was fifteen, I worked out how to use eyeliner and NOT look like a goth (even though that was probably the aim back then). I dress better (I hope), I speak differently and many of my opinions have changed. Plus I can handle my alcohol way better!

I don't know what to do! -But watch me look back on this post in ten years and wish I'd made the most of it, unless I'm Jennifer Aniston?

Bikers

Bikers have an unfortunate reputation. They are often compared to criminals, with the "Hell's Angel" image being intimidating and downright scary. While massive tattooed men with beards riding Harley Davidsons are one aspect of biker culture, there is another aspect that is widely overlooked.

The culture of sports bikers is one of which I have only recently been introduced to, but is one not to be overlooked. Riders in this category in my experience are usually thrill seekers but at the same time are extremely controlled and dedicated. Sports bikes (possibly motorbikes in general) take a lot of maintenance, so sports bikers have to be dedicated to their bikes and seek pride from them. Bikers often fix their own bikes, finding it cheaper and easier than relying on mechanics, and therefore you can sometimes walk in on a bit of a mess if you visit a biker's home. Some seek to have the best looking bike or the fastest bike and they can become quite competitive.

Like Harley riders, these riders often meet up to compare bikes or just to mingle with fellow bike lovers. They will discuss bikes. A lot. As a biker's girlfriend who knows nothing about bikes, this can seem a bit alien-you wonder why a conversation about exhausts could possibly be interesting. But they are truly passionate about every aspect, and I suppose talking to people who share your interests is extremely exciting. These meets can cause lifelong friendships to form; the types of friendships where you don't need to talk everyday, but if you randomly bumped into them in the middle of the street, you wouldn't avoid conversation.

My favourite part of being partially involved in this culture is the group rides. These can be organised rides, or can randomly spring from meet ups. The best I have been on is the May-Day Run, in which bikers from all over the country ride in groups towards the Hastings coast. This is great because you're all riding together and it creates a real sense of unity, plus because you are pretty much contained away from other traffic, you can have fun with the bikers around you. Rides like these show the diversity of bikers and its also interesting to look at all the different types of bikes, even as someone who knows literally nothing about motorbikes.

I always ride pillion on my boyfriend's bike because I can't actually ride a motorbike (although many have tried to persuade me to learn) and this in itself is a mastered skill. You have to learn to position yourself in a way that won't restrict the person in front of you; they need to be able to move their hips and arms. You also need to learn to lean with the bike, it makes it much easier on the person in front of you if you are not sitting bolt upright. I have found that if my boyfriend wears a rucksack, I can hold onto the back of the handles to stabilise myself. This way, I have something keeping me on the bike, but I'm not clinging on to my boyfriend.

Every single biker I have met so far has been extremely friendly and helpful. If a biker is seen broken down on the hard shoulder, another biker (as long as they have nowhere urgent to be) will stop to help. How often do you see car drivers pull over to the hard shoulder to help another car driver who seems to be unable to help themselves? I remember travelling from my boyfriend's house to somewhere else by bus, but I had to wait at the bus stop wearing all my bike clothes. A biker saw me and approached me asking if I was okay. He obviously had presumed I was having bike troubles and was asking if I needed any help. Me, about 18 at the time (but forever looking 14), him in his early thirties: what was it to him if I had broken down? Another thing I like is what I have dubbed the "biker nod". Whenever two bikes pass each other (as long as they are "good" bikes) each biker will exchange a nod. Just a friendly "hello", but I think it is refreshing. Bikers can often rally together for a good cause, like the Red Ring for Remembrance day, where bikers aim to make the biggest poppy in the world by wearing red and riding around the M25 in a cirlce. This helped to raise money for various remebrance charities.

While bikers can be competitive and sometimes ride at dangerous speeds, there is nothing like the exhilaration of riding a motorbike. I am a driver of a comfortable Ford Focus, a lover of creature comforts such as radio and air con and appreciator of not-getting-wet-when-it's-raining. But even I miss being on the back of a bike. Never mind the fact you can bypass traffic with ease, being on a bike means being part of an exclusive, positive, friendly culture.

Going for a Walk

I went outside today. No, no, no, I'm fine, I haven't gone crazy. And yes, this is Katherine writing this. I just felt compelled to leave the house, is all. Tired of procrastinating writing an essay through watching videos of baby goats on the internet, I decided to procrastinate by taking a walk. I brought along with me the book I was meant to be writing the essay on, in a small bid of hope that I was contributing to my essay in some way. 

Buckingham is in the heart of green-belt country, with not much to do in terms of shopping and entertainment facilities like cinemas etc. What it lacks in suburbancy (yes, I did make up that word), it makes up for in breathe-in-the-fresh-air countryside. I didn't even have to walk far; the river that runs alongside my university is perfect for walks. Now, I am from the near-London suburbs, where we walk fast and with purpose with our heads down, not talking to anyone. There are fields there, but they are brown and ploughed, and not particularly inspiring to walk in on a winter's day. Therefore, sometimes the very idea of "going for a walk in the fields" can seem a bit obsolete, a bit Wuthering Heights.

I found a bench right by the riverside, tucked slightly away from the squealing children in the playground and the competitive tennis players on the tennis courts, wearing shorts I shudder to imagine wearing in such conditions, and opened my book. Charles Dickens' Ghost Stories, in particular, A Christmas Carol. Not really the setting for such a book; a sunny midday in February, but I enjoyed reading outside all the same. The occasional dog would sniff at my feet as it pattered by and a few parents with children walked past: parents attempting to teach their sprogs the ways of the world, the child more interested in a slug they had stepped on. I was at the centre of the world but disconnected from it at the same time.

Being a novice at "going outside", I made the fatal error of not putting on enough layers (because two jumpers and a coat are not enough apparently), and I had to retire from my little spot after about an hour. It had been nice to look up every now and again and catch the sun reflecting on the water, to notice how fast the river was flowing and how at some points it could be completely silent.

Don't get me wrong, I'm from Kent, "The Garden of England", I've seen my fair share of countryside. I've been to numerous National Trust Gardens and grew up with a garden that backed onto a woodland. Today was different though. It was unplanned, you didn't need an entry ticket. It really did feel like something someone did "in the old days", to just go for a walk and sit and read outside. I think that's sad. That our generation is imagined as the people who see "outside" as just the place in between home and work. We adorn indoors with plants in pots as a way to make us feel closer to the natural world, when all we have to do is step outside.

Not wanting to sound preachy, it's just that I am annoyed at myself for neglecting outside. While the downside is that it isn't temperature controlled, I think the benefits are enormous. From just an hour of being outside, sitting with no real purpose, I feel momentously healthier. I think, next time, I will donn as many layers as I can without looking like the Michelin Man, so I can sit outside for as long as I like. Plus, I got to stroke a cat on my way home, which was nice.

(same cat a few weeks earlier)

Anxiety and Depression

As you can see by the title, this blog post is obviously going to be super upbeat! Well I'll try and make it as light-hearted as I can. I can honestly say that I have suffered from both anxiety and depression, particularly anxiety, since I was about 14. Now it seems like everyone these days, particularly girls because they're more open to admit it, suffers from either or both of these conditions, so a lot of people understand what it is like to have or know someone who has them. However, some people have no idea why these pansies are complaining all the time, so I thought I'd draw on my experience of the conditions.

 

*Disclaimer: I have been clinically diagnosed with anxiety, but not depression although I know from experience that I have symptoms of it. I do not take medication towards either of these and have deliberately sought no counselling* 

Anxiety and depression often go hand in hand (perhaps not as joyfully as the image that evokes), so after having anxiety for pretty much all of my teenage years, I found that I was suffering from depression from about the age of 19. This coincided with me starting university and I still suffer from bouts of it almost 2 years later. In the beginning, I didn't recognise it as depression, I just thought of myself as lazy and homesick, but it definitely stemmed from there. I had moved to a new town and everyone seemed to be having fun and making friends, except me. I was sharing a house with people I didn't know (and ended up hating) who held loud house parties without inviting me. I wasn't coping.

Every day of my life?!

This led to me having extremely low self-esteem and made me want to stay inside. This later progressed into me not wanting to even leave my bed some days. I would sleep all day and be awake all night. I'm not even sure what I did when I was awake, but I just tried to make the days pass as quickly as possible. I put minimal effort into what I did, because what's the point? The only thing that could bring me out of it was when I met up with friends or when I came home to see my family and was in familiar surroundings. This has eased now that I am studying a subject I have an interest in and have something to work towards. Unfortunately, it is very easy for me to hate myself and I need to be talked out of thinking the worst of a situation.

Anxiety is far, far easier for me to talk about because I have so many more years of experience with it. From its origins with panic attacks to the everyday freak-outs I get now, I think it's safe to say I have had every symptom under the sun. I started getting panic attacks when I was about 13 or 14, consisting of shivering, nausea, sweating, dizziness, tunnel vision and often led to throwing up. This stopped me from doing a lot of the usual things a young teenager can do; it often made me housebound. I gave up air cadets and often flaked out of meeting up with friends at the weekends because of, or in fear of a panic attack. This became a vicious cycle; if I knew I was going to do something, I would expect a panic attack, which of course brought one on.

My parents became worried about me, and took me to the doctors to see if anything could be done. Now I don't know which moron trained this doctor, but the first doctor's only advice was "just breathe". I mean, really? Breathing is the one thing keeping me alive, so I guess it's good general advice? He didn't even give me breathing techniques, "just breathe". So of course, we tried another doctor. By the way, I was sure at this point that I didn't want counselling as I thought it wouldn't be the right environment for me, it would probably bring on more panic attacks if anything. 

The next doctor was far more helpful; she had printed out a load of different calming techniques, suggested herbal smells and lotions that were meant to be calming and prescribed me IBS tablets for the symptoms. While this worked for about 3 weeks, I soon associated the herbal smells with panic attacks, which started to induce the panic attacks, and I still think to this day that the IBS tablets damaged my digestive system. The breathing techniques work now and again. I think everything I was given could have worked, just not for me.

A weird technique someone suggested to me was to write down all my worries during the day and designate a time of day to worry about all of them. I don't think this makes much sense, as when you're panicking, it's usually about really trivial things and you usually aren't deliberately panicking about them. Also, if you could stop panicking, why would you then panic later on in the day? I can't imagine going "Oh, it's seven o'clock, time to worry about that time I waved at someone and then realised they weren't who I thought they were, and are actually a complete stranger." Maybe it works for some people?

In the end, I have accepted that I will never get over my anxiety, however I have worked out a few ways to combat it on my own. If I feel an activity is going to make me nervous, I wear two particular rings on different hands, and can anxiously twist them if I feel panicked. This stops me from picking my fingers to death. A good breathing technique I made up myself, but am sure is out there somewhere, is to breathe from the base of your stomach and as you exhale, imagine the twisting knotted feeling in the base of your stomach is being pushed out through the air you breathe out. Another is to try to numb your mind to the panic alarms going off in your head; try not to think about anything (easier said than done sometimes).

 Finally, sometimes you need to just accept that you are panicking and just let yourself do so. Have a couple of minutes to yourself to let it all out and then when you are ready (you may never feel completely ready, but let's just say, when you can physically stand up and open the door) leave with a smile on your face. Alcohol is also great at easing panic, but that's not me recommending you medicate yourself with it! Just on a night out it's great to open you up to speaking to people you don't know and makes the conversation easier. 

I don't really get major panic attacks like I used to anymore. I think that stopped when I started doing things out of my comfort zone, like I entered my school production and had to sing in front of a bunch of strangers. Also, having a sense of control is good; I don't really like other people driving me places, I much prefer to drive. Knowing you can leave somewhere at any time is also good. Being around people who know about your anxiety is also good: one time at work I had to go and take 5 minutes just to lock myself in the toilet and have a panic attack, but I let a manager know I had anxiety and needed a breather, and it was fine. The disorder isn't as stigmatised as people make it out to be, it's a perfectly accepted thing.

I'm going to end this here because just talking about panic attacks is bringing on one, and also this has gone on far too long! There will probably be a few follow up posts to this one anyway.

EDIT: Click here for the most hilarious, yet true, post about depression from one of my favourite blogs

Things to Watch

I am a student, and therefore people assume I have unlimited free time. Well, it turns out, this term I actually do find myself with a fair amount of free time on my hands, so I have been watching a lot of programmes recently. I thought I'd write a post on what I watch in case people are stuck channel surfing.

Cucumber, Banana and Tofu-Thursdays 9, 10 and 10.30 p.m. Channel 4

Channel 4's trilogy of programmes depicts LGBT relationships, written by Russel T. Davies. Cucumber follows a middle aged gay man, sexually frustrated and frigid at the same time, causing his relationships to fail. He ends up squatting in a luxurious apartment with two younger men, one gay and one bisexual, and being the third wheel to the younger men's parties and orgies.

Banana leads with a different character each episode, each character being young LGBT people. A few of the characters from Cucumber can be spotted in Banana, although usually not playing the leading character of the episode. Banana cast the first transgender actor in a transgender role in a UK television series, with Bethany Black playing a post operative transsexual. The characters in Banana are more open about their sexuality than the older characters in Cucumber.

Tofu is a documentary in which some characters from the show, alongside porn actors, Youtubers and average people off the street are interviewed about their sexuality, with different themes running through each show.

Overall: Great to widen your perspective in LGBT relationships and good for a laugh

The Comic Relief Great British Bake Off- Wednesdays 8.30 p.m. BBC 1

We get a bit obsessed with The Great British Bake Off in my house, so when it isn't on we feel a sense of loss. Luckily, the Beeb like to bring it back occasionally in between series' for charitable spin-offs. This series sees different celebrities competing against each other, while baking easily achievable cakes and biscuits. This is to encourage people to raise money for comic relief through cake sales; the programme basically sets examples to the public of the types of cakes they could make. With the loveable presenter's occasional double entendres and unforgivable puns, the viewer is wrapped up in a Carry On-esque Britishness, that is only added to by the vintage decor and good sportsmanship.

Overall: It's great to see celebrities be terrible at making easy cakes, plus a nicey nice cosy atmosphere

24 Hours in A&E- Wednesdays 9 p.m. Channel 4

Following the workings of a hospital in the space of 24 hours, this series really shows the hard work put in by people who work in hospitals. With a little backstory in to patient's lives, the programme is particularly humanistic and evokes empathy for the patients through interviews with their family, so they aren't simply defined by their injuries. Speaking of which, a number of serious injuries come through the hospital doors, and the staff have to be ready to deal with whatever they see. Some scenes can be particularly gruesome, however you do see the odd patient with a bit of Lego in their ear or similar amusing minor injuries.

Overall: At times, not for the squeamish, generally feel-good, but can be an emotional rollercoaster

Lucius II: The Kawaii Prophecy- PressHeartToContinue Youtube

The sequel to the first game, which left off with an AntiChrist character Lucius being trapped in an insane asylum. I do not know the entire backstory to the first game, but I am sure it can be found on various Wiki pages (I haven't read them in fear of spoiling). For people like me who are quite bad at strategic video games, watching someone else play them gives you the ability to find out the story, with the added bonus of journeying through the game with someone else, plus the fact you don't have to become frustrated at yourself for being so bad at video games! "Dodger", a female gamer on Youtube, has recently released two parts into a play-through of the game. She may irritate pro-gamers, as she isn't extremely adept at games, but she is a fun companion to journey with (for me personally) as I would probably be far worse, and she goes into the game with such emotion; her screams in surprise will probably make you jump more than the game does.

Overall: Personal taste

Dexter

This series finished a while ago, but I think I may have to rewatch it. Built around the life of a blood spatter analyst/secret serial killer, the story follows Dexter Morgan as he simmultaneously solves murders and creates murders. Dexter was traumatised as a young child when he witnessed his mother being brutally murdered in front of him. His adopted father noticed homicidal tendencies in young Dexter, so embarked on a kind of training to hone his morality. This leads Dexter in his older life to only kill people "who deserve it". This usually leads to him killing the murderers from his investigations; being one step ahead of the detectives in order to do so.  The series plays devil's advocate and you often finding yourself empathising with the serial killer, which can be worrying. 

Overall: Exciting and tense with a dry humour

*I think all this blog post proves is that I have an extremely varied taste in what I watch*

Laziness vs Ambition

Isn't it irritating when someone seems to just naturally be good at something? Thanks to my mum, I have always been a quietly competitive person, but I am also naturally quite lazy so it's difficult to learn to be good at something when I don't want to put the effort in.

I never particularly struggled at school, not even needing to revise for some of my GCSEs and still getting As. People are going to hate that, and of course you should revise even if you think you don't need to, but I always seemed to just retain information. A levels were definitely harder, just because I actually had to put more effort in and, although I still got decent grades, I think I could have done better if I hadn't been so lazy. My sister, however, has learning difficulties alongside mild autism and struggles much more in school. She constantly says I must have cheated on my exams, which is quite irritating for the exams I did actually have to work hard for, but I can see where she is coming from. She has to work so much harder than I did, just to pass with minimal marks.

Sometimes I wish I could be good at everything, even ridiculous things, like I'm jealous that my boyfriend can whistle through his fingers and wiggle his ears (what a catch, right?). I know it'd be unfair for someone to be able to master everything they possibly want, but sometimes it'd be really handy to be able to learn how to do things really quickly. Imagine if you could learn a language in a week. How much less ignorant would you look when you go on holiday and don't have to speak in weird broken English for the locals to understand you? Imagine if you could learn to have a sense of direction (I get lost so easily) and could go somewhere you had never been before and find your way home without having to consult a map.

I can play the piano and guitar at a relatively basic level, but when friends of mine can sit with an instrument and just play really elaborate pieces, I get jealous, even though they have probably spent hours practising and I haven't played the piano for about two years. People at parties who sit and improvise guitar (NOT Wonderwall) make me twitchy; I want to get up and play but if I started to play, it would be nowhere near as impressive. I know that if I actually tried with these things, then soon enough there is a possibility I will be able to do the same, but the laziness in me wants it to just come with ease. 

It's probably a good thing that everyone isn't good at everything, though. When people do put in the effort to be good at something and it eventually pays off, the feeling is so rewarding and it is inspiring to others who want to do the same. It also causes people to find their own way about things, extending their creativity and increasing the variation in the world. I'm sure Picasso was told he was bad at painting, but when he found his own style that was different to realism, obviously he was very successful. I just need to stop being lazy!

Big Hero 6

Because I am a mature adult, I went to see Big Hero 6 in the cinema the other day. The new Disney film is set in the fictional city of San Fransokyo (a combination of San Francisco and Tokyo), taking on aspects of both cities whilst remaining somewhat futuristic. The art style remains cartoon throughout, however certain aspects of it look realistic, and the scenery is always bursting with colour; there is always something to peak your visual interest.

The film begins with Hiro, a 14 year old genius who specialises in robotics, taking on a menacing character in a backstreet robot war. After getting in trouble with the law for illegal betting on the robot war, Hiro's brother Tadashi urges him to join his "nerd school", introducing him to the eccentric characters in the robotics laboratory. It is here that we meet Baymax, Tadashi's health assisting robot, made from vinyl to make him more "cuddly". Baymax is instantly heart-warming; his face soft and smiling and his demeanour always caring. Due to his inflatability, Baymax is often slow and clumsy, his legs chafing together and his belly bouncing as he moves. Baymax's appearance seems to be the opposite to every connotation of a robot's; there are no hard lines or metallic elements to him, which helps to humanise him. Baymax is programmed to scan and diagnose patients, waking up when alerted by someone exclaiming in pain and goes back to recharge once the patient has said they are happy with his service.

After applying for Tadashi's school by submitting his own experiment, micro robots which join together to become anything imaginable, Hiro wins the approval of the professor in charge of the robotics programme and gains a place. However, the same evening, the school catches fire and Hiro loses his robots (and some other things I will not mention in fear of spoiling the film). After losing hope and failing to register with the school, Hiro slumps into a depression. Accidentally tripping over mess in his room, Hiro awakens Baymax, who discovers one of the micro robots in the room. They find it odd that the robot seems to be attracted to something outside, considering they thought the micro robots were destroyed (the robots join together through magnetism). After following the micro robot to a warehouse, they discover that someone has stolen the micro robots and are manufacturing more.

The identity of the thief is hidden behind a mask for the majority of the film, and it was fun trying to guess who it could be, although the film tries to point you towards a specific character. This character with the help of the micro robots becomes a super villain, who uses the micro robots for evil. Hiro, along with the characters he met in Tadashi's lab use their robotics knowledge to create superhero suits. Even Baymax gets a makeover to his soft, cuddly appearance. Baymax questions why a health care robot would need to wear armour and why karate moves are downloaded in to his hard drive, but Hiro insists that if Baymax helped him it would make him feel better. The six superheroes go off to fight the villain, however Hiro loses purpose when he discovers the villain's backstory. He is overcome with anger and instead of trying to stop the villain, he wishes to get revenge on him. 

This leads to him removing Baymax's hard drive, which causes him to forget his caring ways and becomes a mindless killing robot. Obviously, the film has a somewhat happy ending, but it does get a bit intense at some points (which was spoilt for me, in a cinema full of young children, by the endless wailing of some toddler). If you wanted to take young children to see it, I would recommend it as it isn't scary at all, and is an exciting superhero cartoon where the characters are relatable to people of all ages.

 Before the film starts, you are introduced to a "short", one of Disney's short films, about ten minutes or so long, called Feast. This is about a puppy named Winston and his relationship with his owner. I loved this short, as I have recently got a puppy, and could definitely see some aspects of my puppy's personality displayed in Winston.