Problematic TV series

Being at uni, I'm supposed to never be at a loss for things to do. I do find however that when I need a short break from studying, I am at a loss of how to occupy myself. Aside from scrolling through the same Facebook updates, or sending an occasional snapchat, it is not like home where I can just saunter downstairs, have a coffee with my mum or watch a quick episode on TV. Everyone at uni is constantly busy, meaning that people are rarely free at the same time as each other.

These are the excuses I give myself anyway for my latest obsession the 'Made in Chelsea' television series (yes I am re-watching it right from the initial episode). An episode here and there provides the perfect distraction in-between reading those critical theory essays and revising the French subjunctive. It was not until I began writing this post however, that I realised just how much of a time-waster reality tv shows are... especially this one! It is taken me just over a week to get through the first two series, and it is slowly dawning on me how much time I'm spending watching people attend dinner parties or charity events, all while having the same repetitive arguments with each other over their love lives.

This all got me thinking, why do we actually find shows such as this entertaining, or even addictive? How many of us tune in every night to watch the latest episode of 'Eastenders' (aka to watch the same people shouting at each other over the same storylines, repeated over and over in a terribly unrealistic interpretation of the average person's daily life)? It seems to me that this unhealthy desire to immerse ourselves in the fictional stories of others only tells us how great our need is to escape from our own lives. It cannot surely be in the sense that we wish our lives were similar to theirs (afterall I doubt anyone really wants an unwanted pregnancy, rushed marriage, a cheating partner followed by an early divorce, not forgetting, of course, a couple of train crashes thrown into the mix) ? The only explanation left then, is that we take pleasure in witnessing the problems of others.

I do not mean this to be as cruel as it sounds, beyond a mere selfish desire to realise that our lives are not as bad as they could be. In viewing other people's problems, we seem to gain some reassurance that our life isn't as dismal as perhaps we think it is, despite the fact that that desperation is pretty dismal in itself. I will be the first to admit that I am guilty of this. Giving in to this method of escapism can only worsen the problem however. Of course, it is fine to relax and watch the occasional episode, but as for the rest of the time, surely it would be more beneficial to engage in some sort of self-ameliorating activity, exercise for example. In this way, we ensure that our lives are meaningful and therefore remove completely the need to reassure ourselves that our lives are not actually as dire as we fear.

Re-beginnings

Haven't written in a while- I was half trying to make the most of my time at home, and half just enjoying doing absolutely nothing before I came back to all the exams, essays and stress of the last semester of the year. But I'm back now, and into the swing of things (ish) so I have decided to dedicate this post to beginnings. Not so much new beginnings but re-beginnings, as in the kind of starting again we experience when we go back to something that we have actually been doing for a while.

Three days into Uni and my 'fresh start'/'turning over a new leaf' is going fairly well. We all experience this feeling regularly to change and improve ourselves- whether if be on a weekly, yearly or by-semester basis. Although people tend to be rather mocking of this 'you keep starting again though, doesn't mean you just keep failing', I do not believe there is any limit to the number of times we should attempt to make ourselves a better person. Surely one time it will work, or at least our new leaf will be turned over so many times that it will gradually become the norm? Therefore I do not believe I will ever be deterred from trying to improve myself or indeed end up giving up.

For me personally, my aims are mostly revolved around a better work ethic, also things like being healthier, being a more sympathetic person etc etc. Particular goals however are not overly relevant. Everyone has different things that the want to change about themselves at different points within their lives. The point is to believe that you do have the power to change it- after all, with whom else does it lie? The other key trick is to want it badly enough. Nothing worth having ever comes easily in life- if something could be gained without working towards it, everyone would have it. Motivation, for me at least, is the biggest thing that has been lacking from my life over the past few months, but finally hopefully I have got it back.

Therefore half a week into Uni and I feel like I have control over everything. Okay, so it may be just 3 weeks till my exams, but better late than never right?

My experience living through a terrorist attack

My original plan for this post was to share with you the memories and moments of my first city break to Brussels. However, in light of the events that took place during my final day there, 22.03.16, it would no longer be enough to discuss merely the beauty of the buildings nor the richness of the food in order to summarise my experience on this trip. I am not going to try to speak very politically about the attacks, for that is an area beyond my realm of understanding, and to suggest there is a way of actually comprehending the mentalities behind these events, to me appears absurd. Thus, before I begin, I would like to emphasise that the only part of these attacks that I can assume complete understanding of would be my own feelings. As someone who was side-lined and barely present during the attacks, I could not insult the severity of what happened by even attempting to have partaken in the true fear that the victims themselves experienced.

The recent terrorist attacks in Brussels were probably the closest I have ever come to any true form of immediate danger, and yet, in actual fact, I was nowhere near. Yes, I was staying in the city of Brussels, close to the airport, and used the targeted metro station the very day before, but I wasn’t there, and to suggest that I deserve any sympathy would be wrong. The frantic and worried messages I received on the day included ‘it must have been so stressful for you’ and ‘I can’t even imagine how you are feeling right now’. Yes, obviously it was not the nicest experience for me to live through, but for the life of me, I could not imagine why people were giving me so much attention when all I saw was the stream of police cars and ambulances rushing around the city, all I felt was the terror for those involved. I did not feel deserving of all this pity that should have been reserved for the people who actually lived through the horror. I was relatively unaffected, moved from the hostel straight into the coach and then straight out of the city- what about the people who could not escape that terror, the people who never will?

To discuss the complexity of all my feelings on yesterday’s events in a simple blog post would be an impossible task. But I guess the above paragraph summarises my initial response, obviously I understand that friends and family are always going to care for you when you are in a dangerous situation, but what I couldn’t understand were the people who ‘milked it’ as it were. Those who I was with, who were on the phones to their parents discussing the fear they felt, how close it was to being them, and so on in such a manner. The closest we came to the events was seeing an ambulance streak past the coach, and to use this situation in such a manner to create sympathy for yourself, not only undermines the true tragedy, but is almost insulting to the people who actually experienced it.

The other major feeling I can discuss is that of the inevitable shock- a shock that has only intensified with an increased distance and time from the actual events. The further we travelled from Brussels, the more and more people we saw, who were not there, and with whom I could no longer relate. Throughout the journey, I was sheltered within the coach, reliving the experience with those who shared the same feelings as me. To suddenly come across people who weren’t there, who undoubtedly read the stories, felt shocked and horrified, but then were able to quickly move on with their lives was almost surreal. This event that would stay with me for the rest of my life was just a news headline for other people, something distant and removed from reality for most people. It is true I have spent the initial half of this post discussing the practical irrelevance of my experience, and yet my physical closeness to the attacks has still taught me a great deal. Whilst, having been a potential victim I do not feel is a viable reason for sympathy when there are actual victims involved, I do believe it a viable means for provoking personal growth. This may sound dramatic, but waking up on Tuesday morning to hear that the metro station I was at the day before had been bombed, the terrorists who killed several people may have walked past me in the street, and the girl I said goodnight to the day before might have died that morning (one of the girls staying in my room was at the airport during the time of the bombing), you come to realise just how close to home these situations really are. In the world of today, the terrorist threat is not one anyone is safe from anymore. Further than that, however, this message extends to diseases, car accidents, shootings- life is not certain, and should never be taken for granted. Nor however, is it something to be treated lightly. I began to think, if I had been a victim, would my life have been worthwhile. Have I achieved enough, have I meant something? I could have been the victim that people, upon reflection, had passed by in the streets, said goodnight to just before, and if I had been, would my 18 years on this planet have been a waste? I do not wish to say that good that has come of these attacks- for the death and injuries of hundreds can never be said to amount to any measure of good. I am merely trying to say that sometimes close-calls such as these are beneficial for personal grounding. They help you to re-evaluate what is important. For me, my experience with these terrorist attacks has resulted in a change of career path. I still wish to follow the line of journalism, but broadcasting is now an area I am keen to look into. It is all very well writing a piece of opinion journalism on whether ‘The Voice’ is a better talent show that ‘The X Factor’, but where is the meaning? Broadcasting is something that is different, it is something that helps. Communication in situations like this is key- to make as many people aware of the situation as quickly as possible prevents similar attacks occurring. Which is why this is something I would like to dedicate my life to. I will still be writing and doing the thing that I love, but the message I will be communicating will be important. Yes sometimes it could be dangerous, but if you can be put in the same danger whilst on holiday can that really be considered a veritable reason not to do it?

I guess overall the point I am trying to get across is that events like these are not something you should read about, be horrified for a day or two, and then forget. Whether you were there or not, to neglect these events would only be to render the deaths of innocent people pointless. It is poor consolation, but maybe in the changing of the course of my life to do better and to be a better person, the deaths of those victims would not entirely be in vain. 

Jesus: a bearded hipster for losers

Earlier this week, a student came into my English lecture promoting an event organised by the Christian Union. A series of talks featuring different speakers with the title 'Convinced', aimed at encouraging the Christian faith and informing others of the work that the Christian Union do. Being brought up as a Christian, this should have been enough to spark up an interest within me, although I have to say it wasn't until I saw the titles of the talks that I truly decided to go along. 

So this evening I wandered along to one of the many churches in Manchester to hear a talk titled 'Jesus; a bearded hipster for losers. Convinced?' A controversial and extremely thought-provoking title, produced by fervent Christians themselves, suggested I was in for a very interesting evening. It was a well-put-together session all in all- the tables were dressed up, wine and cakes on offer, band playing- the kind of event that almost puts my school prom to shame! The part I want to focus on however, the part that really struck me was when one of the speakers who stood up to tell us all about her introduction to Christianity. 

So she stood up, a relatively average looking woman, with bleached blonde hair, filled-in eyebrows and relatively simple clothing- someone you would walk past a million times on the street without noticing- without taking any time to think about her beliefs, her experiences, or her past. And then it struck me. All the people here, were here because they shared something in common. Something amazing- a belief, a faith and a conduct with which they lead their lives. Countless times I have probably walked past them in the streets, and never once passed a thought for their lives or for their feelings- never once realised they were Christian. The sense of community and belonging filled me. Although I had never spoken to a single one of these people before- they all knew each other, had built friendships and such, we were all fundamentally there for the same reason, faith. 

So anyway, after dwelling sometime on the strangeness of this revelation- that there are thousands of people out there, such fervent believers who you could brush past, make eye contact with, or even have a conversation with and never know about such an immense part of their personal lives, she began speaking. 

She spoke first of all of her non-descript background. Brought up in a non-Christian home, worked as a reporter, smoked weed on a regular basis- just an average person, exactly fitting to her original appearance. Then when she spoke of her revelation, of her moment of recognition, she became someone different. All of a sudden she had a depth to her- something we just assume that no stranger ever has. She became more than the average person on the street. She spoke of how she believed Jesus helped her out of her drug addiction, how she filled the hole inside her when even she couldn't work out what was missing. Her faith gave her a personality, something that marked her out from other people. On the outside, she was still the same as everyone else, but inside she was something special. 

I was amazed, not just at what she spoke about, but more the passion with which she spoke. It stuck me, for probably the first time, that everyone here had a much greater depth to them than I could ever know about- be it religion, memories, experiences. Sometimes we are too wrapped up in our own world to realise that everyone else has a world just as big as well. We may go along, thinking we are the only Christian, for example- passing thousands of others who are just the same as us, but whom we simply brush off as filling the template of another non-descript person. 

Religion is something, that whether you believe in it or not, undoubtedly strengthens and complicates the existence of an individual. It does not matter if God is real for you or not, it is incontestable that for those who do believe, their lives have so much more purpose than those who don't. They have a code of conduct, a reason for being here, and an aim to work towards. This precisely was the message of this woman's speech- that until she found Jesus, there was a part of her that was missing, her whole life seemed askew because she didn't have religion, and religion was the point. 

It does not matter what it is that fills that missing piece in you- whether it is religion or family or anything. We do all have a gap, because without that gap being filled, without a purpose to life, we become robots, or the templates I previously mentioned- completing tasks for no real reason, merely going through  the motions. So maybe the title of the talk was partly correct then. Jesus is for losers- those who have lost the purpose to life- that part inside themselves. He reverses them and puts them back on track. So yes, I am convinced- Jesus can hardly do much for winners- it is the losers who need the help. 

Back in London Town

The past couple of days have been fairly uneventful. I have been concentrating a lot on getting ahead with my work since I plan to go home at the end of the week, and I have to say, I've never looked forward to a weekend more. Sure uni is great and I'm settling in loads better- its exciting meeting new people all the time, and always having stuff to do, but I miss my family loads. In fact I miss a lot about home.

I think in some ways, when people say uni is like a holiday, they're not far out. It's true obviously you have to do some work (even in first year!), but the sheer amount of activities there are, means you're running about all over the place 24/7. Being at a city uni (Manchester) also means not only are there loads of things going on at uni, but further, all over the city too. In fact, my first thought when looking around the university campuses was that they were exactly like Butlins. There was your swimming pool, the gym, the social activities, all within a two mile radius. Its great but holidays aren't meant to last for weeks on end, and by the time I get this far into the semester (3 whole weeks), I'm completely run off my feet and just want to hibernate for a month or so. So reason number two why I can't wait to get back home is that I can just sleep with no interruptions- no one knocking on my door asking how to turn the oven on or whether I've seen their lost pair of pants!

That leads me perfectly on to my next point- personal space. At home, I'm used to being able to lock myself in my room for hours on end if I want to. My room was my own space- my parents respected that, and let me get on with my own thing if I needed to. Uni however is incredibly intense. Its generally expected that you spend all your time socialising with other people- it becomes incomprehensible if you actually choose to spend time alone- even if its to sleep! In first semester that was great- never a dull moment. Now however, the novelty has worn away. Making conversation every minute of every day becomes tiring, sometimes I have to admit, I do take my dinner up to my room, or have a nap in the middle of the day, simply just to give my mind a rest. Living with people your own age is great but, in first year especially, its very demanding. Coming home brings me back to some peace and quiet.

All in all, I appear to sound extremely negative about uni at the moment- thats completely not the case. I love the lifestyle and freedom of university- being away from home does however make you miss all the things you took for granted. It is nice to go back to that haven where I can just be my moody old self again!

A new-found respect for primary school

Update is a little later than usual, since I've had an insanely busy week this week. A while ago, I applied with for a job with 'The Tutor Trust', a charity set up in Manchester that works with local schools to try and close the attainment gap within students from different backgrounds. This week I had all my formal training- learning how to be a tutor.

This first night was an introduction- some of us, me included, had had no experience working with children before, or indeed of having that responsibility of supporting their education. The first night then, was spent going through the basics, including safeguarding- which to be honest was a lot stricter than I ever could have imagined. It was a long night all in all, but they were all very engaging speakers- and the free wine didn't hurt!

The second day was, again, another long one- I have to say I don't think I've had a six hour day since my GCSEs, which was now 3 years ago- awful when you put it like that really! This day was a lot more specific- focussing on actually creating tutoring sessions. Once more, it was slightly unnerving, with an emphasis on learning objectives, learning outcomes, kinaesthetic learning - I had no idea primary teachers put such a huge amount of planning into their lessons- primary teachers, they do the easy stuff don't they? Well, that's exactly why I chose primary tuition as opposed to secondary- I won't lie! The following training session however, proved me completely wrong. Looking through the curriculum, there are words I have never seen before, let alone understand. As for the activities- I'm not sure I appreciated just how complex times tables could actually be- no wonder I found it hard then if I can't understand it now!

So, over the past few days, I've learned so much more than simply how to be patient with children and teaching them things I assumed I already knew. I have a new-found appreciation for the education system - both the teachers and especially the pupils. Currently part way through my undergrad degree, I've looked back on primary school without a second thought, dismissing it as easy- even wishing I was back there again. But actually it turns out it was nowhere near as easy as I thought, mind you if I haven't remembered it now- does that beg the question if it was really worth it?

Are we all guilty of not truly caring for our hair?

So yesterday, I made the terrible decision of not blow-drying and straightening my hair properly before going to bed. It was late.. I was tired... and I really regret it today. Having a 9am lecture meant I had to choose between that valuable extra half hour's sleep or organising my hair into some sort of acceptable style. Needless to say.. in questions such as these, my bed triumphs every time.


On the bus this morning then, I became very aware, being incredibly self-conscious of my own look, of everyone else's hairstyles. There was some frizzy, some straight, some up and some laced with  incredibly blinding colours. I began to wonder at the sheer variety and noticed just how your hairstyle can completely change your look and, to a certain extent, define your character. For me, I definitely aim for that straight, sleek and shiny look, reflecting perhaps my OCD with regards to neatness and tidiness- or perhaps it is just because I have not yet been able to get that 'messy-sheek' look that I have tried so often, without looking like I've had an electric shock. I have to say, the straight, careful appearance is an awful lot easier to obtain than the 'scruffy, couldn't care less' one. So what are my tips to staying away from frizz and maintaining a strong shine?


1. Heat. Despite the fact we are all told not to touch any form of heat-styler with a barge pole, it is necessary if you harbour such a frizzy and untamed mess as I do. Provided you use an essential heat protection, my favourite being TRESemmé Care & Protect Heat Defence Styling Spray, and maintain a distance between your blow-dryer and your hair, or use the lowest setting on the straighteners for example, heat should not cause much of a problem.


2. Never go to bed with wet hair. We are all guilty of having a quick shower before bed and then hitting the sheets before thoroughly drying our hair, but not only does this have immediate effects the next day, but it could also damage your hair in the long run. Moving around on your pillow will create a static between the strands of your hair. Rubbing the individual strands against one another as you move, creates friction and will wear away at them. Even better would be if you could plait your hair or weave it into a style that protects the majority of the strands before going to bed.


3. Use a comb. The urge to drag a brush through your hair when you just need to get rid of a few of those knotty tangles in the morning can be overwhelming. However, all that achieves is pulling the hair with unreasonable force, rendering it weaker at the roots, or even succeeding in tearing out the knot by actually breaking the hair. A far better solution would be to use a comb in order to gently tease out the knots, or even using your fingers to separate the individual strands. In you have particularly knotty hair, perhaps consider investing in a de-tangling conditioner, and comb through your hair while it is wet in the shower.


4. Lastly, a key tip that I'm sure many of you have already heard of, is to change your parting regularly. Not only will that give you a fresh look every couple of months, but further wearing your parting in the same place weakens the hair attached at the roots. If this hair becomes weaker, it is more likely to fall out earlier.


These are some of the methods I use to keep my hair looking better for longer. After all, hair seems to be something we all take for granted, yet if we don't maintain it properly, we'll only realise when its too late!