do what u gotta do

I was in the public library yesterday and I went on instagram to procrastinate a little bit. I was scrolling through my feed and I saw that Gemma Styles had posted a picture about her new project or job with DEBRIEF, and that her first piece was up online. Naturally I headed over to safari to read it and, although my expectations weren’t that high, I found myself happily surprised with her writing (you can read it here x). It got me thinking about how, despite her brother being Harry Styles and how she might not have been able to live in London without the financial support, there is actually something for everyone and you’ll get there in the end.

I really enjoy writing and it’s all I can ever bring myself to do. Equations, no thanks. Diagrams, I’ll pass. But a 45 mark essay on Elizabethan government, pass me a biro and an A4 pad and I'm away. I may not be particularly good at it but I think that’s beside the point. I often dream of living in a big city like London or Manchester and going out on nights outs with friends and dancing under streetlights and stuff, but it seems quite unrealistic when you get down from your cloud and realise that you need money to do this. Going back to living at home after being away at university is my idea of hell but, unfortunately, seems very likely. How often are 21 year olds financially stable enough to jump into a big city (with a fricken ridiculous cost of living) and find employment straight away?

But do not fear. I have found some comfort in the thought of short term to pain for long term gain. How useful will my Modern History with Economics degree be in finding employment? Maybe not that much. But I couldn’t go to university and be on a course that I don’t love and pretend to people for three years. So as I filled out my UCAS form I kept in mind what would make me happy and I think that’s the kind of approach you have to take through life. You might have to live at home for a little while, but when you’re a train journey away from huge cities - is it really that bad? I have also found comfort in the knowledge that one of best friends’ older sister has never lived at home since heading off for her first year at university, so that may not be the reality for everyone.

You have to love something to be able to do it for life because that’s a pretty long time. Whether it be for three years (maybe even more) at university, or for a career - pick something you love. Maybe my dreams of being a writer in a big city are a bit idealistic, or someone else’s dream of being a lawyer seem flawed because the market is flooded with lawyers, but you should just follow through with it because these things just work themselves out. Even if you suck at it, isn’t that what you go to classes for? Or what you go to university for? Following a passion is something that makes you who you are. Whether it be enjoying loads of different types of music, or enjoying watching Britain’s Got Talent and looking at Tudor houses, or going out drinking and conducting biology experiments – there really is something for everyone.

So if your sibling is not a multi-millionaire, do not despair. Your dreams may not be out of your reach. If the economy forecasts that there is no need for you and your profession anymore or you think that no one actually wants to see your work, I can assure that there is or someone does. I'm trying to describe the feeling I had sitting at my desk looking at Gemma Styles’ happy little writer face, but I'm not sure how well I've done that. All I can really contribute is maybe a little self-assurance and 700 words about how u gotta do what u gotta do. 

who the fuck was i two years ago

Two years ago I was merely 16 years old. It was 2013 and I was just about to finish my GCSEs which I had worked so hard for. It was a big moment in my life. It’s your first time in proper exam mode where they really count. But, as I watch my younger sister go through the same thing now, I try to keep a bit of perspective. (Sometimes I feel like I have too much perspective and that I'm so withdrawn I get literally nothing done apart from some crappy retrospective blogpost)

(eating burnt cake from a tin on a bus at 22:30ish, March 2013)

I remember crying in the street when I only achieved a B in history as I needed to get an A to study it at Alevel at my college (and history is the only topic I truly care about), and I also remember crying after my parents yelled at me for messing about rather than revising when I got home from my outburst outside the co-op. Looking back, I really don’t know what all the fuss was about. Sometimes the universe has its own weird way of working these things out and, when it just so happens to be a lucky coincidence that the timetable is in an order where the only available subject for you to study is history anyway, there is a little bit of faith restored in my miserable heart.

Though I do sometimes wonder that if this was my piece of luck in my younger years, and that the exam boards won’t be so forgiving this time around. Maybe they’ll expect me to do some work and achieve the grades that they actually require. Relying on leniency is probably the worst way to go into exams. I do worry about it but then again here I am sat at this laptop rather than looking at my economics notes and practising past paper questions in a cosy outside den like my friends.

Being around people who are so excellent at all that school stuff, when you're so distinctly average, is so difficult. You tell yourself that you are you, and that you just have to focus on yourself and what your grade requirements are and how you are going to achieve them – but when your close friends are solid AAA candidates, and you scored a D one time in a mock exam; it gets a lot harder to be so positive. Sometimes I think that going to this college was the worst decision of my life because I am so out of my depth and have had little enjoyment from the school itself, but I have met some great people and I think in some sort of weird way, they’d be just as lost without me as I would be without them. I don’t know if that what friendship is supposed to be like or if I'm being arrogant, but who knows. I think paths cross for a reason and even though I spent 5 years literally up the road from these people, the universe has its own little way of doing things that you just shouldn’t question.

(looking quizzical after finishing decorating an old friend's birthday cake, March 2013)

Aside from all the superficial stuff, I was also a bleach virgin and my naturally black hair was boob length and untainted by hair dye. In the last 2 years, if I could undo anything, it would be messing about with my hair so much. The process of growing it out in order to be bleached up again in about a year is slowly killing me and my black roots are barely 3cm long. I also have tattoos and have been drinking. I have smoked around 100 to 120 cigarettes (I estimate) and have had been through 2 handbag journals. I have moved the furniture in my room and bought high heels and make up. Hell, I've even had a real job with an hourly wage in the last 2 years. I have also been fired and called in sick when I just wanted a lie in. I have had knock downs from other jobs and spent an inhumane amount of money on lemonade and chocolate buttons from the corner shop. I have managed to retain contact with some of the people from my old school (and I think this is a massive achievement) and I have also made some friends I know I’ll keep with me for life no matter what city they live in or which country around the world.

(putting glow sticks in a bottle of coke at a camping trip, July 2013)

But not that much has changed. I am still sat on my bed typing on my laptop and I still have the same records in my record collection (although there are some new additions) and I still enjoy macaroni cheese more than spaghetti bolognaise. I still only enjoy history at school and I don’t think that’s going to change even in the next 3 years (if I get into university). I still need glasses to see anything out of reaching distance and I still steal my mum’s luxury eyeshadows. I think that although I've changed on the surface and on the inside, I'm still the same person I was 2 years ago, but now with longer legs and more opinions on people in bars and with more clothes in my wardrobe.

i literally do not care

I think drinking lucozade before bed is a bad idea because it has caffeine in it and stuff, but I have reached that level at 18 years of age where I am struggling to care.

I think quite often about tattoos and getting something a little more adventurous than something no bigger than a 10p piece on each of my ankles. I have folders on my camera roll with ideas, I have tags on my tumblr devoted to tattoo inspiration, and I have often tried to give myself stick and pokes (before realising you actually have to have proper ink and stuff, and that a craft needle is not the best way to go). But the main issue around tattoos is the big job debate. Oh she has a cool piece of art on her forearm, she may have a doctorate in history but that piece of ink on her skin makes her utterly unemployable. And I have reached this point where I am literally searching every crevice in my dump of a room to find a fuck to give. So what if I get a reference to a band I love imprinted on my skin for life, what does it matter to you? So what if this piece of art has no deeper meaning but it looks rad as fuck, it's not on your outer shoulder. I like to think that the generation of people who actually think like this are dying out (and hopefully taking their prejudices with them) and that there is hope for tattooed employees in the future.

When half term hits 3 days old and I have yet to properly open a textbook, I know that deep down I should be concerned that my exams are a little over 3 weeks away - but I am really struggling to care. Every single person in my family, all my teachers, and the entire population of Finland could be screaming at me to do some proper work and that changing the theme on your blog or updating your Facebook status doesn't count, and I would still sit numbly infront of them with a glassy look in my eyes. If someone could tweet me around 1pm tomorrow and remind me not to waste the entire day, that would be real useful.

As far as family conflicts and trivial friendship quarrels go, I have been done with those for several years now. Any petty disputes are of no interest to me, but reshuffling my record collection is - so please leave me to do just that. I really don't care if that girl stopped being your friend or you want me to help with the food shop, in fact I literally do not care at all. Stop thinking about her or throw me some pasta n sauce macaroni cheese my way and I'll be of little bother to you. Whatever is going on in your life is probably of little significance when you're 18, so I think it's pretty much time to move on. If it'll matter in 5 years time then sure, pull up a chair and we'll talk; but if it's over some dumb boy then I am afraid I am not the therapist for you. Unless your kind of therapy involves tequila and sitting under street lights at 01:30am. Then maybe I'll bring this lucozade with me, we can get some sainsburys basics vodka, and have a deep and meaningful discussion about my record collection as that is of serious value.

i feel like a meme

My life is one big massive joke and I feel like a meme. Or maybe a meme about hiatus because that’s where I've been since last time. You know those dogs you see staring straight at the camera on tumblr, and they look so done, and they seem to be staring straight into your soul, and you feel like they just fundamentally get you – since half term has started, that is exactly how I feel.

Plus, I just got into Bad Blood by tSwizzle after my friend showed me the video last week (thanks a lot the top 40 you have ruined my rep for being super cool which may or may not have existed before that music video), and when I went to Spotify to add it to my 255 song (and growing) playlist, I was reminded that she mugged off Spotify and I was left to listen to other music. But, quite frankly, I am sick of listening to alt-J and Rick Astley. On another note, my favourite Spotify find has got to be the Bratz Rock Angelz soundtrack which sounds like that blue plastic baby food bowl that you found a few months ago and became quite attached to and refused to let your parents throw out even if the chip in the rim was sharp enough to split your thumb open.

I gave myself most of yesterday off from revision (whether this was right or wrong who knows) but I went out the night before and my friend had to be picked up from mine at 9am the next morning. If any parents are reading this, or you grow up to be this kind of parent; DO NOT pick up your daughter at 9am the next day because, despite what her text messages may say, yes she has been drinking and, no she was not in bed by 00:30.

At 01:45 when I was on the 97^th bar of the night, I saw a girl I used to be good friends with before we went to different colleges, and I was hit with a very weird sense of alarm. As she sat on the steps of an estate agents that had closed several hours earlier smoking, and before I was bundled into the bar by my friends, my eyebrows dropped in confusion as she refused to smile or acknowledge my existence at all. How can you burn down bridges and then act like it’s my fault that I don’t come and visit you on that side? I don’t know whether it was the Hooch I’d drank or the 3 cigarettes I had myself smoked, but seeing her messed me up a bit. When The Sun Goes Down just came up on shuffle and I think the opener is quite fitting to this scene; picture a bottle green estate agents on its 78^th coat of thick, dripping paint, with blue fluro lights illuminating the window displays, and fingerprint-stained glass, surrounded by a group of about 20-25 teenagers, and one girl with sunken eyes and long brown hair at the step. So who’s that girl there, I wonder what went wrong so that she had to roam the streets – I'm not sure if this is about me or her. Jesus Christ I hope she never sees this.

However, being physically jumped on by an old friend who’s face you hadn’t seen in weeks, and who is also drunk, high, and three times your size, is warming if not a little bit bone-crushing. And the two boys from your old triple science class who are off their face on MDMA (which is quite the feat because how the hell do you get drugs in a rundown town like this?) are always a nice surprise even if they're just standing with you so they have someone to finish their vodka and coke with.

Imagining taking someone you used to go to school with into a cheap bars toilet, and giving them a blow job is probably a bit unconventional. Maybe you think about them specifically because they at least know your name, or you’ve known them long enough to feel like you're at the stage where you can rip their jeans down to their ankles in haste. Either way; 2 shots, a vodka and lemonade, 500ml of Hooch, a good few slurps on a round of pitchers, 3 cigarettes, and an hour straight dancing to 80s classics, makes you think these things at 02:18am. I have no idea how common or uncommon this is, but at least you can think these things whilst looking at them from across the bar and not worry that they’ll ever know you thought about their dick down your throat (or at least you don’t have to worry about it if you don’t post it on a mediocre blog on the internet). Maybe a meme about being drunk and unaware would be more fitting than a doe-eyed Labrador.

It was a good night out that ended with no sexual activity but with Craig David’s Fill Me In blasting in an average bar in a crappy town. I don’t think I could ever describe what being 18 and going out is like apart from the fact that I enjoy it every now and then. I don’t think I could ever get used to the mini dress and platforms side of it, as I’d much rather stick to doc martens and an unflattering XXL Harrington. But my main tip would be; once you get that £50 provisional drivers licence that you’ll never actually use for driving, get out there and get a few apple sours shots down your pie hole.