Gravel grains forcing impressions on
oblong, odd-shaped, ordinary skulls.
Skirting around bushes like teetering ants
upon grass blades on sunny days.
Book pages dancing,
Vocal chords stretching like elastic
tempers in humid storms.
Leaves cracking for the first time
since the fall,
and now I slip – slip – slip
Into the height of an Autumn day;
Oh,
So,
Tall.
Modern day British culture means that the experience of going to university isn’t something unique or rare. In fact, it is somewhat an expectation of youth today, who face an abundance of pressure surrounding the need of degree-level education in order to do anything respectable. First things first, this is not true. My brother is an example of somebody who felt that university wasn’t for him, and instead did a three year apprenticeship and is now happy and successful in his current job. Never have I viewed him to be less intelligent than my two sisters who did go to university, and I actually think that choosing to not go to university these days is a brave decision to make. To go against these expectations and to know yourself well enough to make the right decision for you is commendable.
I am studying Management with Marketing, and this is one of those fields that you don’t strictly need a degree to enter. I guess you could actually argue that with the growing importance of experience over expertise, an apprenticeship might have been a more efficient route into my career. I wouldn’t say I chose to go to university despite this due to the stigma surrounding apprenticeships, but I do wonder whether I would be here now if it wasn’t so much the ‘norm’. However, being able to have the full uni experience was important to me for reasons aside from academia, plus i’d like to postpone entering the real world of work for as long as possible, of course.
So, two weeks into life as a uni student, I thought it was time to make some reflections. My university had some good themes for freshers week, from superheroes and villains to decades and togas, and finding outfits for them was definitely a good way to bond with flatmates (especially when you spend 40 minutes trying to work out how best to tie a bedsheet as a toga). I think a lot of pressure exists around making lots of friends etc during freshers, but in reality you meet a lot of people who a) you may never see again or b) who will not remember you whatsoever the next morning. I had to remind myself a few times that I have a lot of time to try and make friends, and that I should focus on enjoying myself and to let friendships evolve naturally rather than trying to force them. After all, this is where the best friendships stem from.
But, on a different note to socialising and going out, I was forced to be much more independent in just one week of freshers than I have probably been in the past five years. You are in an unknown place, with unknown people. All nets of security are gone (including the comfort of your own bed) and I found you just need to keep busy and keep moving so the homesickness doesn’t kick in. At home, I would very rarely (maybe ‘never’ would be a more appropriate word) cook, and all of a sudden I had to sort out meals for myself every night and try and make sure they were somewhat healthy too. This has actually been working out far better than I expected, and i’ve learnt that freezers are a beautiful, beautiful invention for extending the expiry date of food. Similarly, I had never done my own washing before, and the thought of going to the launderette terrified me a little. There was a small disaster at first when my flatmate and I aggravated the queue of people waiting for machines by accidentally running a cycle before putting the clothes in and having to wait over half an hour for it to finish so we could restart… but after that it was pretty successful (although I think using fabric conditioner next time might be a shout).
Although there are many more stories I could tell, I think the moral of this post is that we live and learn. I’m excited to try new things by joining societies like lacrosse and enrolling on an italian course, but also to push myself as a student and as an individual. Something I have always found astounding is the way that certain decisions can lead you down entirely different paths of life. Where would I be now if I didn’t go to university? What if I had gone for a different course? What if, what if, what if.
I’m not sure where the next four years will take me, and I guess that the fate of this is something that will change with every move I make, but I am ready to find out.
It seems to be the case that in 2018 public breastfeeding is still not perceived as ‘normal’. It shocks me that this is an issue that even needs to be negotiated, because to me it’s a pretty simple concept to feed your baby.
I don’t know if this has become a larger issue of late or whether I’m simply noticing it more since my sister became a mum, but either way it baffles me.
Let me set a few things straight.
Firstly, breasts are not sexual organs. They play no role in the reproductive system except that of providing a child with nutrition. The scandal over women having their breasts out in public really reflects the patriarchy in that men too have nipples, which are often flaunted on a sunny day to no avail. And does anyone bat an eyelid then? No they do not. Breasts have merely been sexualised to such an extent that using them for their natural purpose (breastfeeding) has become controversial. This is not okay.
If seeing a woman breastfeed makes you uncomfortable then I have one beautiful piece of advice for you: don’t look. Not that you should be looking anyway, but it is pretty questionable if keeping a baby happy and healthy is something that causes you discomfort. And if a woman does breastfeed around you, do not glare at her, tut at her, make a nasty comment OR try and get a better view of her breasts. How would you like it if it was your wife, sister or mother on the receiving end?
Something I feel many people don’t seem to realise is that breastfeeding often delivers the baby with not just nutrition but also comfort. I know that breastfeeding has been a frequent solution for my sister in the past year when my niece has been worked up, crying, or even just sleepy! It establishes a connection between mother and baby and a sense of comfort and safety. A woman breastfeeding will often quite literally stop your ears from bleeding; don’t complain.
Finally, when people protest against public breastfeeding, it’s almost as though they believe the mother is actively trying to offend them. Do you really think she wants to get her boobs out on a winters day and be the receiver of strange looks and whispers? Of course not! Formula milk is a perfectly acceptable alternative to breast milk, but advising a mother to use formula just so she can avoid the battle of public breastfeeding is ridiculous.
It’s time to normalise public breastfeeding and accept it as one of the utterly most natural parts of life. Next time you see a breastfeeding mum, just remember she is doing the best for her baby, not trying to please or displease the strangers surrounding her.
And if you still don’t like it? Fine. But keep your opinion to yourself.
Ellie-Paige x
[ Having said all of this, it is so important not to judge or disrespect a mother if she chooses not to breastfeed. Breastfeeding is a mother’s own choice and she is entitled to do what she feels is best for her child. Not to mention, some mothers want to breastfeed but cannot, and a certain amount of guilt is likely to already be associated with this. Therefore, the mother does not need you to interrogate her or make that guilt worse! ]
On a day where you are feeling yourself, are uplifted with confidence and equipped with boldness, it is undeniable that it is infectious. Making the most of any situation comes from within. You could live a moment twice and have two utterly different experiences of it dependent on how you felt in yourself that day. So with that in mind, picture an abundance of this energy thrown together in a bustling city… and you have the London Pride event.
It was astounding to see someone, who on a normal day might walk down the street in shame or embarrassment that derives from past experience, instead flounce and flutter and give zero fucks because on that day they are proud to be them. It is a bittersweet feeling because although elating, it is frustrating to think that this is perhaps not how they feel everyday. It may often be the case that in the grand support of the parade and the crowds they are able to be more freely themselves on the pride event day, but this doesn’t mean that they don’t face hate or prejudice thereafter.
The mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, made a valid point that although a wonderful celebration of how far we have come since Pride was a solitary street protest, it is vital to acknowledge how far we still have to go. And that includes global thinking. It sickens me to think that people in Russia are facing such persecution purely for their sexuality today. Gay men are being kidnapped and tortured, whilst the police (authority figures who should be looked to for justice and safety) are detaining activists from raising awareness of the atrocity.
And all for what? For being something they cannot control. For being something harmless and beautiful.
And this is happening now.
For the Western world we can boast of progress, but the earth is still filled with generations of doubt and pure disgust towards various sexualities and genders. I am privileged to live in a place and time where there is a lot of support for the LGBT community, and ‘coming out’ tends not to be the scandal it once was. However, I must not turn a blind eye to the fact that in many religions and cultures- even in my current place and time- this is not the case. Young people are still forced to hide who they are from their families through fear of rejection, and whether this will change anytime soon I cannot say.
But what I can say is that it is remarkable to see such a diverse range of people come together for a common cause and belief on a day like Pride. It is also wonderful that the event is not simply made up of members of the LGBT community, but supporters of it too. For example, I went with a group of friends that are certainly not all gay or bi or transgender or anything in-between, but who wish to show their support and understanding for those who are.
Here is to change. Here is to progress. And whilst we watch it all unfold, you can support the cause by donating to the following LGBT charities:
LGBT Foundation (Focuses on ‘increasing skills, knowledge and self-confidence’)
Stonewall (Focuses on LGBT campaigning and lobbying)
Albert Kennedy Trust (Focuses on helping LGBT youth facing homelessness)
Going to an event like Pride or supporting associated charities doesn’t make you LGBT, it makes you part of a movement that could ensure the health and happiness of those who are.
Ellie-Paige x
The butterfly effect is something that I’ve always believed to be true, but has been playing on my mind an awful lot of late. To bring everyone up to speed, the butterfly effect is the idea that all actions- even the tiniest of actions!- have large effects elsewhere. To put it in simple terms: Every decision you make now contributes, alters, and determines the huge jigsaw that will be your life soon.
The inspiration for this post came from a moment earlier today. Two friends and I were sat along a lake, our feet dangling in the water and small ripples dancing into the distance. The ripples would be small at first, petite, hardly recognisable. But, as though gaining confidence with time and distance, would soon be rhymically shifting meters away.
‘Am I causing all of these ripples?’ My friend asked.
‘Yeah. It’s like… the ripple effect.’ The other replied.
‘The butterfly effect.’ I corrected her, with a small smile at the remarkable way in which fate brings concepts and ideas to you at the most appropriate of times. Ever noticed how you can go months and months without seeing or heeding to something, but then you draw your attention to it and can see it everywhere you go? That’s the law of attraction. But that’s for another day and another post.
The butterfly effect is a concept with the talent to be simultaneously stunning and terrifying. I often find it gives purpose to the small things I live for today, knowing it is building up to a bigger picture and a bigger future. It also helps me to keep faith that I am moving in a direction; whether that be the right one or not. However, it isn’t half daunting. A relatable example at present is university. Am I going to the right place? Am I doing the right course? These factors will inevitably cause a cascade of events that will determine my future. And, if I chose differently now, it really could land me in a different place in twenty, thirty, forty years to come.
However, I think it is vital to remember that the butterfly effect works hand in hand with fate. I am a strong believer that everything happens for a reason. Perhaps I tell myself this to regain a sense of control (i’m an utter control freak) or to stop myself from freaking out when my emotions taunt me. Either way, it seems unnecessary to panic about small actions causing large changes if you truly believe that you will eventually land in the place you are meant to be.
Instead, I propose that we stand in awe of this phenomenon. Perhaps we need to think more into small and seemingly irrelevant actions, in the belief that they have larger influences than you could ever imagine. Perhaps not. Perhaps we should just be excited about the journey we are taking ourselves and others on through everything we do. Through merely existing.
And I suppose what made me feel most grateful today was the realisation that those water ripples are likely the closest we can ever get to seeing the power and logistics of the butterfly effect. I was even more grateful that I wasn’t the only one who could notice it and appreciate it.
‘It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world.’ – Chaos Theory.
It is easy to get lost in the chaos of everyday life, so I ask that just every so often you bring yourself back down to earth and remember the power behind every choice we make.
Ellie-Paige x
Spoken word is an art form I have grown to adore over the past year. I love writing it, speaking it, sharing it, but most of all- listening to it. As though extracting a part of the self, throwing it to the ceiling and waiting for it to plummet, I feel that spoken word poets are much more courageous than given credit for. There seems to be a likeness between performances, where the poet becomes utterly still for half a second- all-consumed by what they speak- before diving into euphoric animation. Their gaze is nailed to their words as their feet to the floor and you know, that in that moment, they are no more present than rain in a desert.
A component of ‘The Last Word Festival’, ‘Shall we take this outside?’ was a spoken word performance at The Roundhouse in London. When booking it, I wasn’t aware of other similar events going on during surrounding dates. I admit, had I have known this I may have opted for another one. I may have opted for a more predictable performance about the self, identity, or just something seemingly more feminine. However, I feel that what made this experience so special was that it wasn’t a theme I would usually go for! It was a reminder to myself that we really should try new things or surprise ourselves every now and then, in case we do uncover new interests or truths.
The performance featured the spoken word artist (Adam Kammerling) accompanied by two dancers to depict attitudes towards violence and methods of coping. It told the story of a speaker who once upon a time may have dealt with violence through retaliation, as learnt through experiences in parking lots and gangs. When this side of himself is displayed to his family, specifically his mother, he realises that this is not the version of himself that he is comfortable with. After being confronted on the street by a drunk guy trying to take his anger out on him, he stays calm, makes conversation, and removes himself from the situation. This is compared to a superpower, and I believe that this is what it truly is.
In a society where men are taught to boil and brew and retaliate, to stay calm and conversate is a power of high order.
I admired the performance for both the technique and the message delivered. In terms of the spoken word as a piece, I was in awe of how smoothly links were tied back and forth. An example my friend picked up on was the way the poet said ‘In my town, car parks aren’t an easy thing to share’, and later says ‘in my house, bathrooms aren’t an easy thing to share’. I felt this represents the difficulties men face in all aspects of life, with various people, due to perhaps a power struggle or bid for masculinity. I also thought that the dancing tied in so well with the fluctuating mood throughout the piece, and really aided the overarching emotional response. It was a piece so intelligently executed, in that it dealt with a serious matter in a humorous and realistic way (the funniest of parts being the voices all in unison mocking societies views of what is and is not heroic or masculine).
As well as being an enjoyable watch, the piece made me think hard about what we as a society expect and encourage of men. It is awful that their emotions are so often trivialised or urged to be disguised, and it is just as bad that they are taught to deal with issues in such different ways to women. It becomes a culture for men growing up to need to be able to take on a fight, and this is wrong. The sooner both men and women realise that violence is not the ‘strong’, ‘cool’ or ‘respectable’ way forward, the better.
Broadening my horizons and encouraging me to reach into more untouched themes and ideas in the future, I would call this a successful evening. I look forward to going to more spoken word events, and I urge you- whatever field your interests may lie in- to at least once delve into an area of it that you normally wouldn’t. Like me, you might be surprised.
Ellie-Paige x
A LITTLE LIFE _ HANYA YANAGIHARA
It is truly remarkable that upon turning the cover of a book, one has no idea what they are yet to discover; not really. They may be equipped with a synopsis, a blurb, some reviews… but one can never predict the emotions a piece of work will invoke until the act is experienced firsthand. When I picked up ‘A Little Life’ by Hanya Yanagihara, this was exactly the case. I did not expect to fall into one hundred ditches, fly one thousand heights, or to have emotions torn and tossed like KitKat wrappers one million times. I did not expect for my vision to improve, my brain to haze or my heart to ache. I did not expect to feel beads of sweat prickle from my hot skin in moments of tension, or for that to turn to hungry, furious steam at every turn of a page. I did not expect for it to resonate so inexplicably strongly with myself, as though it was something the world had wanted me to hear for a long, long time.
The character of Jude is tormenting to read. You cannot help but fall in love with his kind hearted yet vulnerable nature. This is consequently infuriating when you discover his innate self hatred, and how he views himself through a tinted, skewed, smashed mirror. There is so much more I wish to discuss within his character and his relationships with others, but I think key points would be his relationship with Willem and Andy. His main struggle when being with another person comes from his sense of undeservedness, which is deeply saddening and somewhat maddening. Seeing cracks appear in a seemingly perfect relationship, however, teaches the valid life lesson that no relationship is smooth all the way. And most importantly, that this is okay. The writing is deeply intricate about his romantic life and how the protagonist’s past affects his present and future. I suppose it is true that your past will always haunt you. It made me feel nauseous with the realisation that some people in life truly feel this way- that however much they trust a person and trust their love, they will never feel secure or worthy. This has to be what produced one of the largest emotional responses in me. His relationship with his doctor, Andy, is also intriguing though. The reader watches an emotional journey of trust develop- which is a huge milestone for the character of Jude- however it reaches a point where their emotional investment intrudes on Andy’s professional decision making skills. Equally, professional decisions would not be able to be made as effectively by a doctor who did not know all of Jude’s past in the way that Andy did. It really is an ethical debate! As much as i’d love to, I will restrain from revealing too much incase anyone has not read this book yet.
What I can discuss, though, is the open nature in which Yanagihara discusses ‘taboo’ topics. I loved this beyond words (although it has faced much controversy). I think that the way sexuality, relationships, abuse, illness and suicide was explored so freely made it a liberating read. It is undeniable that most families face one of the above at some point in their lives, so perhaps such conflict arises from self denial. However, I personally embraced the way they were approached not as controversial topics, but as things that affect the best of us; things that need to be spoken about.
A book has never had such ability to produce tears from me as much as this one did. It was so easily forgettable that the writing was fiction, because it was packed with so much truth and wisdom that one cannot muster from nowhere. It taught me to talk about issues, to accept flaws, to stop asking and start doing, and most importantly to be myself. It sounds exaggerative to go to this extent, but my view of the world really did change as soon as the back cover kissed the front and my heart strings snapped from its ending. I think it bought me out of a drunken perspective of the world and really sobered me up a little, and I also think that a few more of us could do with a read like that.
Below are two poems I wrote about the protagonist Jude, when in emotional turmoil surrounding his suicidal thoughts:
Refreshed
Sullen winds whispered through
Window pane cracks;
Frost lining the sill and sitting,
Sometimes spitting,
Through dense air and
Minds so confused.
Eyebrow hairs stood on end
From the tug of war between
Myself and I;
a stress response of the
Naive and unknowing.
Refreshing.
Refreshing was the mind when
Kissed with new oxygen,
Slathered with inspiration and
Assaulted with new ideas.
Refreshed was the mind
When not dampened with the past
And soiled with the present.
Refreshed was the mind,
With the freezing of the future.
And with that,
The freezing of fate.
Judy
It rung in the air like a bell;
Supported by an untiring arm and
Awakening the tales that taunted my tongue.
I bit to taste the tinny treat
Of simultaneous reward
and overdue revenge.
How this fate was obtained,
I did not know,
But I did know
That each rustle of the branch
mocked my past
And each clip of a heel
predicted my future;
An undeserving soup of
Regret, redemption,
Trust, turmoil;
Pity.
Self-pity enveloped my body and
I tear myself free;
A letter to never be posted-
Nor received.
8/06/2018
[Credits to my good friend Skyla for her photographic talents: [_sky1a_ (Instagram)/]
During my mere eighteen years on this earth I have learnt several things, one of which being that writing can quite literally soothe the soul. It has always been a hobby I have returned to in some shape or form, whether that be story writing, poetry, or spoken word. But one form of writing that I cannot seem to tire of is blogging. I have blogged many a time in the past- often unsuccessfully- and I felt it was time to start afresh and attack it with new ideas and inspiration. I feel my life has progressed a great deal since the era of my last blogging site, and you’ve got to move with the times, am I right?
So here it is, and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you.
To set the scene, I recently completed the International Baccalaureate (IB) diploma, and I struggled with the concept of freedom for a while after my exams. I think it is difficult for the brain to transition from a state of utter stimulation during the exam period to then a significant loss of pressure, invigoration and adrenaline immediately after. Although I am privileged to have received great education, I would fault the system in that anxiety and withdrawal towards the prospect of free time cannot be a good product of the program. I think that under the immense pressure of achieving good grades, going to prestigious universities and aiming for high-end careers, an element of freedom and creativity for young people today is lost.
It is only now, three weeks into my summer, that I finally feel detached from educational responsibility and am finding great enjoyment in non-academic interests again. I picked up a pencil for the first time since GCSE art and remembered how much I love to draw. I picked up a book for the first time since IB English and remembered how much I love to read. And now, I pick up my pen and recall how much I love to write.
This blog will largely focus on lifestyle, general thoughts and book reviews. I am taking this break between sixth form and university to relax, discover new interests and to just breathe.
Whether these posts serve 100 of you, 10 of you or even just myself, I will be grateful for the chance to free my mind and offload my thoughts onto this site. I truly believe that through writing, one learns about both the self and the world that surrounds them.
Welcome to my blogging journey.
Ellie-Paige x
ElliePaigeAndre 