So, the end of the country era has landed. Courtesy of my lovely Aunt, Uncle and cousins I am now a lodger in the South with the subtext of a new job. Independence and liberty call keenly, but since my last bid for freedom (university!) I've learnt not to expect too much from life. Not every minute of every day will be unbelievably fantastic; but parts of each day will be. Lulls and times of empty time are to be expected, and one discovers the best things by accident, not by searching restlessly.
What's stopping you, except yourself? Rarely, but occasionally, there is a real obstacle. Today, for me, I have jumped the hurdle and am ready to tackle the world and my dream. To journalism, to fashion, to fun. Cheers.
x
Monday 31 January 2011
Thursday 27 January 2011
Listen to your Gut - that means no Yakult.
It's been quite a while since my last post; I would apologise if it weren't entirely justified. I've spent the past two weeks rushing across the country on various placements. The first was at a Magic Circle Law firm, which was a fascinating experience, but for sure isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life.
This week, however, has been a real highlight. A week at a local magazine has let me indulge my love for writing, with the prospect of someone actually reading it! In addition I have learnt mountains about Marketing and the Publishing industry in general, whilst feeling myself and not having the strange sensation of playing dress-up in my own clothes.
It occurs to me that I have followed (what I believed to be) the wishes of my parents. This is, I hasten to add, not their fault; it was entirely my choice. Yet why strive to do what will please those above us? Is it because I am afraid of the resulting conflict if I question the ideals of those who raised me? I believe it is.
Finally I am progressing in the world with a lesson more valuable than the illustrious Oxbridge halls could have taught me; I have learnt how to listen to my own preferences, and how to make myself happy with my own decisions.
If anyone does happen to be reading this, please take my advice: listen to your gut. I don't mean head for the Ben&Jerry's at 9am. What I do mean is if you feel like you're too exhausted to embark on a MA, then take a year out. If you feel like you don't love your boyfriend any more, then take a raincheck. Life's too short.
x
This week, however, has been a real highlight. A week at a local magazine has let me indulge my love for writing, with the prospect of someone actually reading it! In addition I have learnt mountains about Marketing and the Publishing industry in general, whilst feeling myself and not having the strange sensation of playing dress-up in my own clothes.
It occurs to me that I have followed (what I believed to be) the wishes of my parents. This is, I hasten to add, not their fault; it was entirely my choice. Yet why strive to do what will please those above us? Is it because I am afraid of the resulting conflict if I question the ideals of those who raised me? I believe it is.
Finally I am progressing in the world with a lesson more valuable than the illustrious Oxbridge halls could have taught me; I have learnt how to listen to my own preferences, and how to make myself happy with my own decisions.
If anyone does happen to be reading this, please take my advice: listen to your gut. I don't mean head for the Ben&Jerry's at 9am. What I do mean is if you feel like you're too exhausted to embark on a MA, then take a year out. If you feel like you don't love your boyfriend any more, then take a raincheck. Life's too short.
x
Wednesday 12 January 2011
New Feminism
Last year spawned the latest Sex and the City release. Yet again Carrie poses endless rhetorical questions and is rewarded for the tone by a fat pay cheque and a free trip to Abu Dhabi.
Carrie is an icon for many a modern day woman. Why? Because she manages to juggle glamour, a career, her girlfriends and a man in one exciting walk down Madison Avenue, Manolos clacking.
But it occured to me just the other day that Carrie Bradshaw is, in essence, living the life of a man. Those who love the show will be familiar with the episode where she tries to have sex like a man, but this intention itself demonstrates that she sees herself 100% as a lady, a woman, a female.
Carrie Bradshaw doesn't have children. Carrie Bradshaw does not cook, famously using her oven to store her overflowing wardrobe. Carrie Bradshaw does not clean. She used to paint her flat to overcome problems, in a way that reflects a stressed man donning his 15-year-old t-shirt come Saturday to indulge in some escapist DIY. Carrie Bradshaw engages frolicks with endless, nameless men.
OK, so she buys shoes, has long hair and wears makeup. But does she possess the fearsome yet gentle motherly instincts of Miranda? Does she exude vulnerable femininity like Charlotte? Does she embrace her role as sexual magnet like Samantha, who exploits her body to her own physical ends? She does not.
In my mind, Carrie is an icon because she is a women masquerading as a man. There is a reason she took so long to settle down, a reason why gay men love her so. Her success is on a masculine level, and yet the illusion of her feminism makes her a shining light for so many women quashed by their responsibilities. They can forget the baskets of ironing, cupcakes to be baked and dinners to be washed up because Carrie never even thinks about those things. And unlike many career women of today, she doesn't feel guilty about it.
Carrie is an icon for many a modern day woman. Why? Because she manages to juggle glamour, a career, her girlfriends and a man in one exciting walk down Madison Avenue, Manolos clacking.
But it occured to me just the other day that Carrie Bradshaw is, in essence, living the life of a man. Those who love the show will be familiar with the episode where she tries to have sex like a man, but this intention itself demonstrates that she sees herself 100% as a lady, a woman, a female.
Carrie Bradshaw doesn't have children. Carrie Bradshaw does not cook, famously using her oven to store her overflowing wardrobe. Carrie Bradshaw does not clean. She used to paint her flat to overcome problems, in a way that reflects a stressed man donning his 15-year-old t-shirt come Saturday to indulge in some escapist DIY. Carrie Bradshaw engages frolicks with endless, nameless men.
OK, so she buys shoes, has long hair and wears makeup. But does she possess the fearsome yet gentle motherly instincts of Miranda? Does she exude vulnerable femininity like Charlotte? Does she embrace her role as sexual magnet like Samantha, who exploits her body to her own physical ends? She does not.
In my mind, Carrie is an icon because she is a women masquerading as a man. There is a reason she took so long to settle down, a reason why gay men love her so. Her success is on a masculine level, and yet the illusion of her feminism makes her a shining light for so many women quashed by their responsibilities. They can forget the baskets of ironing, cupcakes to be baked and dinners to be washed up because Carrie never even thinks about those things. And unlike many career women of today, she doesn't feel guilty about it.
Sunday 2 January 2011
New Year. Same You.
I resolve not to resolve ridiculous resolutions. I resolve to:
1) Drink less (those with me on NYE 2010-2011 will be thrilled to hear this)
2) Eat more
3) Sleep more
4) Think less
These are not legal clauses, they do not have '3 times a week' or 'every day' in them. They are true lifestyle changes, but achievable ones, and not gratuitous.
Last year I resolved to be a happier person. I am now happier, after two nervous breakdowns and a lengthy depression. Did I complete it? Considering that 11.5 of the months were spent in dire straits, I'm not sure, but the end result is a rejuvinated me.
The glossies will print endless 'New Year, New You' or 'New Year, New Body' articles. These irksome titles are futile, because at the end of each year, we are not new people. Why try to evade the inevitable; we are who we are, and can only polish up the best aspects of ourselves and learn to live with the flaws. Aspiration for perfection may drive the world, but the inevitable failure to reach it leads down a dark path.
This year, resolve to be the best version of yourself.
1) Drink less (those with me on NYE 2010-2011 will be thrilled to hear this)
2) Eat more
3) Sleep more
4) Think less
These are not legal clauses, they do not have '3 times a week' or 'every day' in them. They are true lifestyle changes, but achievable ones, and not gratuitous.
Last year I resolved to be a happier person. I am now happier, after two nervous breakdowns and a lengthy depression. Did I complete it? Considering that 11.5 of the months were spent in dire straits, I'm not sure, but the end result is a rejuvinated me.
The glossies will print endless 'New Year, New You' or 'New Year, New Body' articles. These irksome titles are futile, because at the end of each year, we are not new people. Why try to evade the inevitable; we are who we are, and can only polish up the best aspects of ourselves and learn to live with the flaws. Aspiration for perfection may drive the world, but the inevitable failure to reach it leads down a dark path.
This year, resolve to be the best version of yourself.
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