Sometimes things happen in life that are shitty but act as a key learning curve in how you move forward from that scenario. I left the end of last year with that exact thought in my head, surely everything that had happened (or more aptly, what hadn’t) could be utilised to build on what I already had. I saw my final year of school as something that I could either cruise through, albeit in a very relaxing way, or I could sign up for everything that I had wanted to but never had.
So, that’s where I sit now, with ten extra-curriculars under my belt for term one alone. Some may say that I’ve over committed myself, and they may very well be right, but on the other hand I am really enjoying being busy. Its allowed me to not only expand my portfolio, but also expand my knowledge of other people and their opinions, as well as make new acquaintances. I'm learning new skills, something I wouldn't be doing if I spent the year chilling. I have now realised that I sound like one of those cheesy, preacher-y inspirational speakers. I'm really not trying to be. I just think that, honest to God, getting kicked into the dirt and stood on by everything I actually wanted last year was beneficial to who I am this year. I can't remain in my hometown bubble forever, and pretty soon I'll be getting out. Once I've gone, I'm going to have to interact with people that haven't known me for my entire life, these people won't know me and how the hell am I supposed to get to know them if I don't know how to represent myself. I'm thinking, well more hoping, that somehow fleshing out my portfolio will mean that I am set up for life (read: first week away from home). I suppose the "moral message" of this rambly post is that sometimes life is shit, and sometimes its good. And a lot of the time it only gets good after its been shit, and you've actually tried to make it good. I don't owe any of my success to anyone, no-one at no point pushed me like dead weight up hill, forcing me to do this, instead it was off my own back that I decided to throw myself in the shark pools and hoped that I'd swim rather than sink. Stay alive kiddos, - C
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Yes, this is a new year's post but, I'm sure you can build a bridge and get over it.
Unlike the popularised idea that 2016 was a terrible year, one filled with celebrity deaths and topped off with the election of President-Elect Donald Trump in the USA, I don't think 2016 was the worst thing that has seen sunlight. Comparatively, there have been worse years experienced by humankind. There is no denying the events that transpired this year with some, in Prince Phillip's words, mirroring that of the 1930's, however, what does moaning about the horror that was 2016 achieve? Instead, we should all start looking at the new year as a time to re-evaluate how we as a collective human community broach current events, and conflicts across the world. With children being collateral damage in Aleppo and the continuous suppression of human rights across the world, we are not short of problems to solve and lives to save. The beginning of 2017 doesn't just bring a time where the middle-classmen of the world can set unrealistic health and fitness goals, it brings a time where we can set goals which don't just benefit ourselves. Alternatively, we should all be widening our outlook and taking small steps to improve the lives of people around us. Reach out to your community and volunteer your time to help, something which I will be doing myself. Set goals to build up your peers, encourage them to reach farther than they have before rather than undermining their success with your green jealousy. We can achieve nothing short of miracles in this new year if we only care enough to not whinge over what has gone, and what now cannot be changed. - C I wrote this a few weeks ago and I liked it so, I thought I'd share it on here.
In my memory, there is a room. It's quaint, small in size, and smells distinctly of my mother's perfume. Not the obnoxiously sweet scent she spritzes nowadays, it's the musky, faintly peppermint-scented one that seemed to infect every room she entered. This particular one was no different. I can imagine the wool throw that covered the desk chair, gaudily gay in colour, the natural sheep-y smell long since replaced with her unmistakable fragrance. The hand-me-down duvet, patched with various fabric cut-offs and steeped in my mother's scent, is tucked neatly into the mattress of the obscurely small single bed. If I think hard enough, I can recollect how each lump and bump of that god awful mattress felt like a rock lodged beneath my back, mirroring the headache that my pale yellow walls induced for weeks after I first painted them, the pungent smell penetrating my mother's odour. The sherbet lemon walls had holes dotted across them, reminiscent of the posters i used to tack up. Everyone from Paul McCartney to Joan Baez used to dance across my walls, singing their warbled tunes, humming everyone's favourite songs. After a few months, the tattered posters would bend and bubble as the sun stamped her mark. The faces of my idols would warp and become the monsters of my nightmares. A quick glance at any poster at any given time past midnight could send me into a sleep-deprived hallucination. Imagine, where Joan once smiled in approval of my life, a monster hung, her white teeth now yellowed and snarled, ready to ravish on my tender flesh. I think of the stories which used to sit in a messy pile beside my bed. Each one dumped after I turned the last page. Their words floating around my head, performing their scary, heart-wrenching, humorous, disturbing tales. I lived vicariously through the characters as they lived their storybook reality and I lived my actual one. Pretending that I too could have the happiest of endings, dusted with confetti and sprinkled with champagne. The bleakness that stood outside of the room was cut off each time I flipped the paperbacks open, and momentarily I could step inside a world that wasn't my own. I feel now as if that room, those walls have seen their fair share of my life. Each scene played out according to the script, perfectly mirroring what was planned for me. They watched as my blood dripped from my ear to the threadbare carpet to create a permanent mark, signifying the time when I took to my lobes with a sewing needle to pierce the very flesh I feared would be consumed by the terrors of the night. They observed solemnly as I nursed my first broken heart, as I tried to pick up the pieces of myself left after I realised Mr Right wasn't so right anymore. I would like to think that perhaps they wept as I boxed up the last of my belongings that I considered important enough to cart off to university, leaving those soft yellow walls behind in a room I would soon regard as a relic of my past. In the small railway house of my childhood, in the back of my memory, is the room that I grew up in. If I catch a whiff of my mother's perfume which sits untouched, still in its crystal bottle. a gift from my father for her twenty-first, as I clean up her dresser, something which she can no longer do herself, I am plunged back into my yellow-walled slice of heaven, I can graze my feet over the worn-out carpet, thread my fingers through my throw and my duvet. I hear the melodies of the past and read the stories I've forgotten. If I see a news articled about The Beatles, a snapshot of Paul's shagginess pins itself to the lemony walls of my mind. I rarely visit that room but, sometimes the door cracks open, and there it is in my memory, a time capsule of what I left behind long ago. p.s. this is not a real memory m8s So, what we should all establish from me writing this almost two months after I said that I would be posting regularly is that I can not stick to my own self-enforced schedule. Now don't misunderstand me, I believe that I am an organised to an extent, I can organise myself and fit around important schedules that do actually greatly impact other peoples' lives, however, this blog serves as an example of something in my life that gets put on the back burner while other things are going on. Between study, and mocks, and having an existential crisis every other day, life has been reasonably crowded (I've also started about 6 billion new tv shows but we'll ignore that for now, thank you). I think, quite frankly, I've just become really slack at allocating time outside of essay writing to actually write for my own pure, enjoyment.
It should be noted that on the most part I enjoy my subjects at school, but an essay on Kristallnacht or the impact of the Protestant Reformation on Renaissance art doesn't really put me in the most creative mood when writing. I've found that I not only miss writing dumb little poems and phrases and blog posts but I'm actually yearning to do it. Yet, every time I've sat down to write a post an immense wave of guilt washes over me as I remember the essay that I could be writing instead. In a world that measures my worth by the grade on my report rather than the creativity of my words why would I ever spend time on a casual, theoretically unimportant blog when I could potentially improve one of my essay grades? Moreover, I've also noticed that this year, the most important year of high school, I've redirected my focus entirely on my grades and not allowed myself any time to read this year. I have usually read a stack of books as tall as myself by this time each year, but this time round I've read a measly 9 books. All of these books were greatly enriching, ranging from an auto-biography from a North Korea defector to the political philosophies of Plato, but with everything good in life it hasn't been enough. I have already begun compiling a list of books I want to read next year not including the ones for Our Shared Shelf and The Banging Bookclub, lets hope for a better year of reading. I suppose the take away message from this albeit ramble-y blog post is that we all need to start spreading ourselves a bit better between our compulsory commitments and those things we want to do for fun. The past two years of my life I've burnt myself out trying to keep on top of school work, because contrary to what I said at the beginning of this post I'm not a naturally organised person. I have to try very hard to be that way, and I do actually succeed, but it burns me out. I over-commit myself, and I end up in this tired mess at the end of the year who is then plunged into working full-time outside, something which makes school comparatively easy and fun for me. And after all this, all these educated anecdotes about not over working myself, I will still spend the next month up late at night studying for exams because I will probably forever prioritise grades over myself, and forever try to convince myself thats ok. Pray for me and what will be my fried brain after these exams. - C There is something so refreshing just knowing that the place you are in right now, whether it be physically or mentally, isn't permanent or forever. Just to know that you will eventually move on and grow up, becoming an adult version of yourself. Recently, I visited an open day at Victoria University of Wellington and this was the major thought on my mind as I looked at what I consider to be my future. Its truly insane to think that in a years time, I will legally be an adult, and be properly deciding on my university course and potential career path. However, that isn't to say that I haven't already decided (Law anyone?).
I travelled down to the capital on Thursday the 25th of August, with my mum and her partner's daughter, to check out Vic and have a roam of Wellington. I never could have imagined that this open day would completely solidify my decision to study in Wellington. The open day was on 26th, and was jam packed filled with sample lectures, halls of residence tours, seminars, and course planning slots. To say the least, it was difficult to decide what I wanted to see, as there was so many options to choose from, everything from Art History to Sociology struck my fancy. At school I really enjoy humanities and social science based subjects, and plan to continue these at uni, so I wanted to catch as many seminars which highlighted these subjects as possible. This meant that I spent the whole day in and out of lecture theatres, listening to course plans and other information on the subjects. With 15 minute intervals between each 45 minute seminars I felt completely overloaded with information on the different degrees offered at Vic. I started the day off with the Law seminar after grabbing a coffee at Louis's on Kelburn campus. The seminar was really interesting, and began to introduce the Socratic method of lecturing, which promoted involvement of the class. Its really intimidating, and as I am a year younger than most people at the open day, I wasn't entirely comfortable with putting my hand up, despite not knowing anyone in the room. The student speaker, Katie Alexander who was as 4th year student taking a double degree in Law and Theatre Studies, was great to listen to and gave a more in depth perspective of a Law student. The way the Law course is set out is highly competitive, which is something I knew prior to the open day, but I feel like seeing an example course outline made it feel more tangible. The second seminar which I saw for the day was the Psychology one. I was pleasantly surprised at how much the Psychology seminar intrigued me. I had always considered doing Psychology as a second major or degree with Law, but it wasn't until I was in the lecture theatre, listening to the Professor talk so passionately and comedically about his subject, that I seriously considered/decided that Psychology was something I wanted to do. I've always been interested in how people work, and why we act the way we do, so Psychology definitely seemed a great fit. Throughout the day I also saw the History and Philosophy, International Relations and Political Science, Cultural Anthropology, Sociology and Criminology seminars, which not only were extremely interesting, but ultimately confused my decisions about what I wanted to study. Unlike some of the other high school students I was surrounded by, I have another year to decide what I really want to do, and maybe that might not be Law and Psychology, it might be Law and History or some other combination, but going to the open day definitely gave me a more in depth understanding of uni life as well as the courses on offer. While I was at the open day, I also caught a tour of Katherine Jermyn which is a hall of residence at Vic, near Lambton Quay. I was taken around in a small group, by an RA, and got to see the rooms, cafeteria, gym, study rooms, theatre, games room etc. The halls at Vic are of such a high quality, but KJ is especially new, with someone I know describing it as "hotel-like". I wouldn't mind living in a hotel for a year. On another note, one takeaway message that I found at the open day was that what you decide you're going to study fresh out of high school, may not be what you end up spending your life doing. With more than one of the Professors/lecturers leading the seminars that day saying that they never started out in their chosen field, the idea that I have the option to change my mind at any time became realistic. I am really passionate about Law and Politics right now, but that doesn't mean to say that I will in 5, hell, even 2 years time, and just being aware that just because I start something doesn't mean I have to finish it is great. I know now that our lives are determined by the choices we make and the ones that we don't. To summarise, I would highly recommend that if you had the opportunity to visit a uni open day (before you decide where you want to study) to take it. If you have no idea what you want to do, hearing the actual Professors and lecturers speak about the courses and seeing the campus could do a great deal of help to you. Even if you know what you want to do, its still fun to visit where you may end up spending 3+ years studying before o-week. - C P.S. I have now created a blog upload plan so I will hopefully be posting more regularly. Every Friday evening at 8pm NZT. Recently I've been going through a tough time on all fronts of my life: friends, family, and school. To be completely honest its been pretty crap. Despite the good grades I've been receiving for my work the feeling of success is short-lived, due to the problems I've had in every aspect of life. Then as soon as I feel like I'm on top of my work, I'm plunged back into another internal, which I naturally finish the night before because who wants to do school work when you can stress about life in general? Not everything has been so bad though, I'm looking at universities for 2018 and planning my future which is fun, but nonetheless, I've needed some good music to blast so that I could get through this.
For: Empowerment Beyoncé, Lemonade, 2016 There is no denying that Beyoncé is queen of empowerment, whether its embracing racial diversity or feminism, she's there and she's on top of it. I realise that some people may believe that some of the problems which Beyoncé aptly discusses through her music (see: US Black Lives Matter movement) are things which don't directly affect someone like me (white, New Zealander) but the way I see it is the world is a community, and if somewhere someone is experiencing oppression, then we should all be educating ourselves and speaking out about this injustice. Lemonade is a lyrical masterpiece which points fingers to problems in our society, and addresses them. As someone who is so much older than me I do find it difficult to firmly grasp on the relate-ability of Beyoncé to myself, however, I cannot deny the feeling of empowerment which Lemonade instills. The feeling of invincibility, and "down-with-the-patriachy" attitude which Lemonade promotes is irreplaceable. In this difficult time, Queen Bey has helped me get out of my rut, even if my issues are different to those she's addressing. For: Wallowing in self-pity The Smiths, literally every song ever, 1984-87 I love The Smiths so much I can't even properly describe it. I don't love them in the same way that I love Beyoncé, as the way The Smiths' songs make me feel is pretty crap; I love them in the sense that their music allows me to just sit and wallow in self-pity for a while. Special shout-outs go to There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, Never Had No One Ever, Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loved Me, Well I Wonder and Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want, which are all depressing as hell songs, which let me sit in self-pity for a while at least. There are times where you just need to let the stress take over and acknowledge is going on, I find that The Smiths help me do this. Its only in accepting problems that you can actually get past it, and that is something which I have learnt the hard way over the past three years. The Smiths are also brutally honest with feelings and issues, making their music very relatable even now, thirty years after its production. For: IDGAF moments AC/DC I catch the bus to school with a multitude of other people from the three schools on this particular bus, ranging from ages 8 to 17. Now, I have a low tolerance of kids to begin with, I'm not very maternal, so when I have to spend an hour a day on a bus with pre-pubescent boys who don't know how to shut up, I need something to listen to that will get me into that IDGAF mood. Enter AC/DC. Australia sure as hell produced some bloody great rockers who in turn produced bloody great albums. From High Voltage to Razor's Edge, any mix of AC/DC songs puts me in a mood where I just don't care and am elevated above all the problems in my life. AC/DC is literally the most amazing band to transform your mood from "7.30am-dying-because-of-school" to "7.30am-I-may've-just-left-a-rock-concert-or-I-may've-just-left-home-you-will-never-know". Additionally, I have found that AC/DC was a life-saver during the extremely late nights I was having when trying to complete my internals recently, who's to say that AC/DC didn't help me get an excellence on my history internal. For: Warm fuzzies Avalanche City, We Are for the Wild Places, 2015 Somedays I just need an album which is going to remind me that life isn't always crap, and Avalanche City definitely delivers this message through their music. Although, not every song is all hunky-dory lets all be friends, but its nice to tune into a song and listen to the love pour from Dave Baxter's voice as he sings about his wife. There is something uplifting about Avalanche City's sound that makes me think that even if they were singing about the end of the world, I would still be in a blissful mood. Folk music is just so perfect sometimes. We Are for the Wild Places is Avalanche City's second studio album and has a more refined sound than the last (however, I love both albums all the same). Recently, I have found this album so beautifully perfect when trying to look on the bright side of life. Might I add that I saw them live early last month, and it was one of the best and most intimate concert experiences I have been to. Overall, if you're going through a tough time right now I hope you can take two things away from this post: 1. You are not alone, everyone has crap times. 2. Good music to help you get through to the other side. - C NB: I am writing this in retrospect as I am in a better headspace now. I'm getting professional help and have had a lot of support from my close friends and family (S/O to Amelia, you the real MVP). Its been a while since I picked up my laptop and just typed for fun. In recent months, the only time my fingers touched the keys was to type an essay or finish an internal. My life has revolved around school entirely, and everything else has been uninterestingly slotted between the weekdays. I spent my entire holidays alone, at home, with nothing but a book to read as the wifi was out. Now, I've got spare time (I actually don't) and all I want to do is curate something of meaning to share with the world.
So, I have listed possible topics and the only thing that seems remotely interesting to me is school. Is that not a testament to my lack of social life, or what? The fact is that I have spent this whole year stressed about school. "I'm over school," is a phrase I hear far too often thrown around by people my age. The amount of pressure that is piled onto high school aged students these days is phenomenal. The slightest indication of minor failure may send someone into a full-blown mental break down. I so wish I was kidding. Numerous studies have been carried out analysing the mental health of high school students of this generation, all of which prove one thing: academic success is not just a goal, its a necessity. I have watched people cry over exam results, I myself have done it as well. New York University did an investigation into high school students at selective schools which have now altered learning to aim the students toward academic success to get these said students into university. All it proved was what any 15 to 18-year-old could've told you, anxiety isn't just a 7 letter word anymore, its a mindset thrust upon us by the drive for academic success. No one can reasonably cope with the amount of stress high school students experience when trying to achieve well at school, so it comes as no surprise that some high school students turn to substance, whether it by alcohol or drugs, to deal with school-related anxiety. A study carried out by the American Psychological Association in 2000 showed that a normal child experienced more anxiety than child psychiatric patients in the 1950's. Now take into consideration that this was 16 years ago now, and think of the fact that acceptance rates to some universities are at an all-time low, and application rates have spiked. The need to succeed at school is so important for those of us wanting to continue education at a tertiary level. Its become the social norm for teenagers to joke about school-related stress and how it makes you feel, since everyone knows that academic anxiety plagues each adolescent mind. Don't forget that all those 'fun' extracurriculars, everything else that is necessary for a true 'high school experience' also become the more reasons to develop mental health issues. Didn't get in the top sports team? Stuttered on stage? Don't worry, these are only part of the essence of your university application! Now also take into consideration that teenagers in 2016 are apart of the 'iPhone generation'. With the world at our fingertips, who would want to compare their own success to your schoolmates when you can flick over to Instagram and compare yourself to Kylie Jenner. Forget insecurities relating to body image for two seconds, and think of how comparing life related success could be as detrimental. In a capitalist world, financial success after university is the new academic-stress. Once the iPhone generation leave high school, university or wherever, there is a whole world of stress waiting to fill your mind. Then on top of all of this, there is the stigma around complaining about school as there are so many who go without an education. Now, don't get mistake me, I'm the first to shut down anyone that complains about having to go to school, I know how many girls would kill to have my position at school, all for an education, but that doesn't mean that venting about anxiety is wrong. By extension the stigma around discussing the stresses of school and then being critiqued for being ungrateful, then creates a stigma about being truly honest about anxiety and the impact it has on your mental health. Appreciation of school is different to loving school. Love of school implies that people love everything about school whereas appreciation implies that you recognise and understand everything that goes into giving you an education. However, on a more personal level, its difficult to ignore these studies into high school anxiety as I myself experience it often in regards to academic success. The worst thing is that we watch one another during high school succumb to the pressure of achieving well, and slip into an anxiety-induced zombie-like state. Where we just go through the motions of school and homework. The fact is, that pressure to succeed will never truly leave you, but at a high school level, expectations feel like they are so far out of reach, that the only coping mechanism is to stress. I really hope that the way that I deal with academic things in the future is better than I, as well as many others, am right now, because we need a generation where anxiety isn't a regular thing, and where the mental health of our generation is actually stable. - C NYU Study American Psychological Association for Samantha This week's post was supposed to be about 'Our Shared Shelf' (OSS), a book club created by Emma Watson, the UN's He For She ambassador. Now, don't get me wrong, its not that I didn't that it was a good blog post or that it wasn't 'important' enough for my blog, its just that I have come across something far more important for me to talk about: my white privilege. In the scheme of feminists I believe we're all on the same side, and we all have the same goal, which is equality of the sexes. But, after reading an article on Al Jazeera, and another article on everyday feminism, and yet another on Bustle I realised that I am a feminist who benefits from white privilege. I have obviously read about, and realised, white privilege, hell I've even conversed with others about how ridiculous I think the whole concept is, and I accept that thinking that white privilege is 'ridiculous' is ridiculous in itself, and just plain wrong. After reading these articles, I realised how unfounded my blog post on OSS was. I was writing about a book club that I liked, as a white female, spear headed by a white female [Watson]. I can't pin point why I liked OSS, I would hope it would be because I liked what it stood for, not for the fact that I related to the creator based upon gender and skin colour. I read these articles, and realised two things, a) that I am highly privileged and need to start accepting, appreciating, and being aware of that and b) that my goals for feminism/equality are highly different to those feminists of colour. The article on Bustle was the one that really didn't beat around the bush and got straight to the point highlighting the privilege that white feminists benefit from. One quote that really made me self-aware was, "The plight of a middle-class, straight, white, American woman is not the same as that of an uneducated, gay, American woman of color. While the former fights for equal pay and paid maternity leave, the latter is more concerned with stopping race-related police brutality, acquiring better funding for inner-city public schools, and developing more comprehensive treatment programs for HIV.". I [almost] fit the description of the first type of feminist, meaning that its likely that I don't relate with the latter type of feminist, which is absolutely true. And I don't feel bad about the fact that is who I am, that isn't this article's aim, I do however feel more self-aware of what I'm expecting the success of feminism to emulate. I'm educated, and plan on studying at a tertiary level, and my main goal for my own personal feminist vendetta is for equal pay and international education for all women. Which probably is different to a woman of colour in a lower socio-economic class than myself. In no way am I trying to explain how it feels to be a feminist of colour, because that is something I obviously cannot speak truthfully about, but I am trying to take responsibility about my ignorance about white privilege and white feminism. I will never try to speak from the perspective of feminist of colour, but I do believe that feminists of colour need a platform on which to speak on feminism for people of colour. It is extremely important that this happens. What I have derived from becoming self-aware about my white feminist privilege, is that it is [from my point of view] that feminists of colour quite possibly feel the way that I do when men 'mansplain' things that they have no idea about, when white feminists talk on feminism when it concerns anyone who isn't of the same cultural background as them. Yet still, I know that I will never fully relate nor understand to a feminist of colour's struggle. I will however attempt to see see life from their perspective. On another feminist note, I really wanted to draw attention to one of my favourite feminists, Amber Rose. I find her approach to feminism straight forward, if not a little brash, but its highly effective. It gets her perspective and point across in a way that isn't difficult to understand, unless of course you just don't want to listen. I have a real problem with victim blaming when it comes to sexual assault. A women should be able to dress how she likes, and feel completely comfortable walking down the street. Women don't dress for men, they dress for themselves. Just because a male thinks that a woman's skirt is so short she's 'asking for it', does not mean that she is. Unless a woman specifically opens her mouth and asks for it, then she doesn't want it. I suggest you watch the video below for a briefer explanation. I think its highly important for fellow white feminists like myself, to become self aware of our privilege as it means that our fight is different to those women of colour. Being aware and considerate is what will ensure that feminism doesn't become just another machine in the patriarchy. - C |