books

When I was younger, you could find me with my nose in a book more often than not. I was an avid library goer, series collector, and all round lover of books. The idea of being able to transport myself to a world more exciting than mine, filled with me with adventure. Not only was I enthusiastic about reading books, I also had a stab at writing. Of course I was terrible at it, but I didn’t care. I loved creating alternative worlds with the power of my words.

Unfortunately, as I got older and technology advanced, my reading pile dwindled. When it came to choosing how to spend my spare time, reading began to appeal less and less. I’d sit for countless hours on the internet, feeling nostalgic for the days I’d spent curled up with a book, yet regarding the act of picking a book and reading it as “effort”. As a teenager, I rarely read for reasons other than revision. On the odd occasion, I’d dust a book off my shelf, and vow to read more.

Over the years, my preferred genre of books has altered. Whilst I’d thoroughly enjoy delving into the world of the Twilight Saga as a young child; at twenty years old, I’d much rather read a self-help book. I feel like that’s an interesting finding in itself, and I personally view it as a reflection on the direction my life has taken. When I was younger, the hardest decision I would ever have to make was whether to play with my dolls house, or my bratz dolls. As I’ve gotten older, decision making has become more complex, with added responsibilities and expectations. So of course I thrive on the idea of knowing that at least some of my stress/anxiety can be reduced with the words of a self-help book.

The past couple of weeks, I’ve made a conscious effort to actively read more. To force myself out of the habit to reach for my laptop when I get bored. So far, it’s been a success, and I’d like to think it continues!

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have i missed out?

I’m one month away from leaving my teenage years behind me, and the one question on my mind is, “Have I missed out?”.

My teenage years were far from stereotypical. I rarely went on nights out, in fact I’m certain I can count the number on one hand. I never did drugs, there was no underage drinking, and no one-night stands. Now I’m not saying I wish I’d spent every weekend off my face on drugs, or in a different bed every night, I just wish I’d have been a little less cautious. My whole life I’ve heard about how I have a “wise head on my shoulders”, and how I’m so mature for my age. My maturity has always been something I’ve been proud of, and something I’ve resented at the same time. It’s shaped me into the person I am today, yet it has stopped me from doing so many things.

With thanks to societal expectations, and coming-of-age films, I grew up wondering why my life wasn’t going in the direction it was “supposed” to. I became confused when my first, and only kiss, was with a drunk guy in a nightclub, whose name was Alistair…. I think? It was supposed to be with my first crush, and I was supposed to feel nervous and excited, not disappointed, because I’d let myself believe that you were meant to have your first kiss with someone you liked. But it was certainly one thing I’d expected it to be: AWKWARD! I would always question why I’d feel nothing but dread, and anxiety when my friends would ask me to go out for drinks, because I was supposed to enjoy going out with my friends and remembering nothing the day after? At least that’s what I’d always assumed. I ended up worrying why I was so different.

I always expected myself to reach this age, and look back at my first relationship. You know, the one you never really class as a relationship because it was in primary school, and you dated (aka, you went to his house after school for turkey twizzlers and smiley faces), for one day, until he decided that girls are “ew”. I expected to look back and remember that awkward high school relationship, and this one was a relationship because you held hands once on the playground, and you kissed behind the bike shed after school. There’s been no sixth form relationships, and up to now, no university relationships. Whilst this upsets me, and makes me worry that there’s something wrong with me, I also know how silly the whole idea is. Who decided that you have to experience all these “firsts”, during a particular stage of your life, a stage where you’re not even really sure who you are, or who you want to be?

I’m not really too sure what the purpose of this post was, and I think I’ve ended up sharing quite a bit of personal stuff, but who cares? I guess I can sit here and regret all those chances I didn’t take, all those nights out I didn’t force myself to go on, but it won’t change anything. So maybe my life hasn’t gone to plan, in the sense I haven’t conformed to social norms, and it has never felt like I’m in a movie (cheesy, sorry), but there has been so many moments in my life that have enabled me to grow as a person, and I’m rather proud of myself. I know that I’m not the only one (I did not intend to reference Sam Smith) who is in this position. Sure, I can say I’ve missed out, because maybe I have, but I have also made memories I will cherish forever. Hundreds of coffee dates with friends, travelling to different countries, going to festivals and gigs, meeting so many different amazing, unique people, and spending time with my family. I have achieved so many things during my time as a teenager, and whilst I’m anxious as to what my twenties have to offer, I am also extremely excited. I need to remind myself that it’s okay to not be like everybody else. I need to learn to love myself, and accept every part of me, even the parts I wish I could change.

You only get one shot at this whole ‘life’ thing. There is no point wasting your limited time regretting things, fixated in the past. Accept that your life has gone the way it’s supposed to go for you, and accept that you have so many more memories, and mistakes to make, and hundreds more opportunities to take.

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berlin, germany.

So, continuing where I left off, (I did plan to post this yesterday, oops), Berlin was a pretty awesome city, and it comes close to Oslo and London in terms of my favourite cities. First off, the transport system is great. It can be so easy to get around, with the choice of the u-bahn, s-bahn, and metro etc. I say “can be” because I’m pretty bad in terms of following maps, so, I occasionally got us lost.

Looking back, our whole trip practically revolved around coffee. This is because I’m an absolute coffee fiend, which has both its pros and cons. The main pro being that thanks to my love for coffee, I have experienced some of the best coffee shops around, (I should probably write a post about a few of them someday). The downside, without my caffeine fix, I really do turn into a monster. Withdrawals are not a fun experience for myself, or my friends. I think one of my favourite coffee spots was Companion Coffee, and that isn’t because I witnessed my friend fall off her chair, it’s because the atmosphere was so chilled. It was tucked away in the corner of a really cool, quirky shop, and the coffee blend was awesome. Coming up close behind is The Barn Roastery. Daily vlogger, Steve Booker, visited when he was in the city, and his recommendation meant a stop here was needed. I walked out of that place having learnt so much about coffee and it’s origins.

One thing I highly recommend is taking the Alternative Tour, (I’ll put a list of links at the bottom for everything I’ve mentioned). It’s free, but you’re given the opportunity to pay a tip of any amount at the end! Our tour guide, Ben, had an extensive amount of knowledge on the local street art, so that became the focus of our tour. Three hours were spent wandering the alternative scenes of the city, which included a beach bar. Now usually, the word “beach” connotes warmth, however, it was the middle of winter, and there wasn’t even a beach, just a river bank. We ended up meeting some interesting people, including a girl from Russia, who practically mothered me. She stated the secret to staying warm was “layers and cashmere”,  whilst at the same time, taking my scarf off and wrapping it “properly”, until I could no longer move my head without doing a full body turn. However, I remained very warm, thanks, Chloe.

In terms of sightseeing, a trip to Berlin wouldn’t be complete without visiting the wall. It once stood with the purpose to separate Berlin, and has now become a canvas for self-expression. It’s filled with positive messages of peace, love and art.

To avoid making this post too long, I’ll condense places worth seeing into a list.

• Berlin Cathedral- the architecture is insanely beautiful
• Brandenburg Gate- perfectly situated near starbucks and dunkin’ donuts
• Reichstag Building
• Checkpoint Charlie
• Kaschk Coffee Shop
• The Mall of Berlin
• East Side Gallery
• YAAM- the not-so-beach bar
• Berlin Wall Memorial
• RAW- a converted train depot
• Alexander Platz- purely for the pizza restaurant near-by.

 

So, Berlin. A great, diverse place to visit, that has something for everybody. I’d recommend that if you ever plan on going in the winter, PACK YOUR THERMALS!!

companion coffee

links:

alternative tour

companion coffee

the barn

steve booker

kaschk

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is it just me, or does it feel like your feet are about to drop off?

(the title of this post will be explained, just bear with me.)

After returning to university, I’ve had to deal with a few hectic weeks full of deadlines. No one prepared me for second year. Writing numerous, boring assignments on everything from statistics, to aggression, to microsytems and development (see, boring), I found myself daydreaming of being back in Berlin. So, I’ve taken a well earned break from university to write about my Berlin experience.

As was the case with Oslo, the trip was booked on a spontaneous whim. Over coffee, my friends and I discussed where in the world we’d like to go, (price permitting, of course) and so, Berlin was decided. The weeks before leaving, I repeatedly checked the weather forecast, seeing the temperature drop a few degrees each day. My Grandma tried to convince me to purchase a pair of pink long johns, but i stupidly refused, because, 1) I hate pink, and 2) I really didn’t think it would be that cold.

I packed my case, packing a couple of warm jumpers, just in case my family, and the weather app, weren’t overreacting. I also packed a short sleeved t-shirt because I’m ever the optimist. Arriving in Berlin, stepping off the plane, my first thought was “Why did I refuse those bloody pink long johns?” It was minus 11°c. Now, I don’t think my body has ever experienced temperatures so low, in fact, I know it hasn’t, because never before have I thought multiple body parts were about to drop off my body. (refer to post title). The only thing getting us through the freezing cold, hour long journey from the airport to our airbnb apartment, was the promise of heating.

After defrosting in a bakery in the neighbourhood we were staying in (Wedding), we practically ran up the 10 flights of stairs to our apartment, eager to feel the heat….. that wasn’t there. Yep, the heating in the apartment had broken. That night, we relied upon each other’s body heat, layers upon layers of clothing, and multiple duvets to make it through the night.

I knew I would have to invest in some thermal items of clothing soon.

The coldness became bearable throughout the trip. All thanks to my very comfy thermal leggings, and gloves, 5 pairs of socks on each feet (putting my shoes on became a struggle), 3 jumpers a day, my coat, my scarf fastened into a croissant (personal joke, sorry), and a warm hat.

I’ve rambled on so much about the cold now that I don’t have space to actually write about Berlin, without it being too long. So, I will leave you hanging here, and hopefully have another post up tomorrow. I promise there will be no more mention of the cold.

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anxiety

I promise you, nothing is as chaotic as it seems. Nothing is worth your health. Nothing is worth poisoning yourself into stress, anxiety and fear.~ Steve Maraboli

I’ve kept a journal since I was 6 years old. At first, I wrote about meaningless things like “I had fish and chips for tea”, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve used my journal as an escape. Reading over it this morning, I’ve seen nothing but negative entries the past few months, most complaining of how bad my day had been, and how I’d had another panic attack.

Moving back to university after the summer, I was so relieved. Being home had started to make me feel claustrophobic, and I needed my own space. I started my second year of university with nothing but determination and motivation. A couple of weeks into the new term, I received a letter to say that I would no longer be receiving as much money as previous from Student Finance. I immediately started to panic, how would I pay my rent? my food shops? my petrol? I really didn’t want to rely on my family, and so I got myself a job. I began working for the same company I had worked for over summer, but in the store closest to me at university. It was silly of me to apply for a transfer to there, because working over summer had brought me nothing but negativity. I’d hated it, the long hours, my lack of freedom, the company policies etc. But I told myself maybe this will be different, and besides, how would I survive without the money?

Long story short, I managed to speak to Student Finance, and they realised that it was a mistake on their behalf, and I’d still receive the same amount of money. I stupidly decided to stick on with work regardless. Now, I don’t dislike it because I’m lazy, and I feel very lucky to have a job when other people don’t have that opportunity, I just struggle to stay positive. I find it hard to balance hours at work with my lectures, the volunteering I do, and assignment deadlines. I rarely find myself with time to relax.

I’m a worrier, I always have been, and unfortunately, I can’t see myself ever not being. Recently, everything has been getting on top of me, and it seems all I’ve been doing is crying in my room, and spending hours on end writing in my journal, but then pretending to everybody else that I’m okay. It’s tiring, to always have so much going on in your head all the time. I’ve dealt with low moods and panic attacks for most of my life, and it never really gets any easier to cope with. Coming back home for Christmas has been amazing. It’s been lovely to spend time with my family, the people I care about most in the world, and the people I always know will be there for me. It’s so comforting, despite the fact I still feel anxious. I’ve left that stressful university life behind. I have three deadlines looming that have been keeping me up at night, even now writing this I’m thinking “shit, I don’t have enough time to get them done”. But, I needed to write, I needed to get my thoughts out, so they’re not just circling around in my head.

My new year’s resolution is to try my hardest to make decisions that will bring me happiness. Hence why I’m here, making a list of pros and cons in my head for leaving my job to focus on my studies. My question is; is it really so hard to be happy? or do we just insist on making it complicated?

 

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art

Smile, breathe, and go slowly. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh.

Art is one of the best ways to express yourself. We are surrounded by art every moment of our lives, be it poetry, photography, music or paintings.

I received my first DSLR camera when I was 13, a hand me down from my uncle. To this day, 6 years down the line, it’s still my trusty companion. Now I’ll be the first to admit, I’m no professional, (I struggle to understand most of the settings on my camera for goodness sake), but that doesn’t stop the feeling of excitement whenever an opportunity arises to take my camera from its shelf.

Every time I take a photograph, every one I edit, I find myself learning more and more about the complexity of this art form. I have even invested in a “Nikon D60 for dummies” book, yes, I am a dummy. My friend, who is much more educated on the world of photography than me, gave me a 10 minute tutorial of my camera in Olso over the summer, (thanks, Lucy!), and I learnt about the wonder that is macro shooting.

It’s just so exciting, I love the idea of capturing a moment, and yes I know how cliche that sounds, but it’s true. Photography is very subjective. I’ve noticed when I find something interesting, and worthy of a photo, someone will look at me confused, and say something along the lines of “it’s just a rusty door??”. I’ve recently taken a liking to visiting art galleries, wherever I go, I will always seek one out. I find them so calming and inviting.

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Art is a huge part of my life, I have already written of my love for music. It always finds a way in, and I am extremely excited to continue learning about photography, and constantly improve myself.

(Speaking of my love for music, check out my recommendation of the week; Sam Garrett)

 

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music

For me, there’s no better place to be than a sweaty, cramped room, where ducking cups of beer (and occasionally urine, yep…ew) eventually becomes a skill. Stood within a crowd of likeminded people, singing along (or screaming in my case) to songs you’ve heard so many times before, that is my haven.

The first concert I went to ( I use concert rather than gig here, for reasons that will become obvious) was the pop sensations that were Steps. Apparently, I was that overwhelmed, and excited to see my then favourite band… that I fell asleep. Poor little four year old me. My first “gig” was Ben Howard at the Manchester Apollo, 2012. There was something about the intimacy/smallness of the venue that made me realise I’d been experiencing live music in the worst way. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed most of the concerts I went to that were in arenas (e.g. Justin Bieber; My World Tour, 2010, no regrets!!),  but when you’re high up in the crowd, and the artist is merely a speck on the stage, you can’t help but feel some sort of disappointment.

The 1975, Manchester Academy, January 2014. The first gig I experienced the dreaded urine throwing, alongside “mosh pits” (although people would probably attempt to start a mosh pit at a bloody Bon Iver gig nowadays.), excessive dancing and jumping, dehydration, sweat dripping from you, and on you from other sweaty human beings, (graphic but true). Yet despite all this, it was one of the best nights of my life.

I’m quite a self conscious person, and I rarely go on “nights out”. Mainly because I don’t feel comfortable in those situations, but also because I’d rather save my money to be able to go to gigs.. because that’s where I really let myself go. Music is of massive importance in my life, as I know it is with others. Just this year I’ve been to 1 festival and 13 gigs, with 4 more before the year ends.

I’ve been to a number of gigs alone recently and ended up meeting some pretty awesome people. So as cliche as it sounds, music really does bring people together.
I think my two favourite gigs this year have been Wolf Alice and Years & Years. Both completely different genres, with two different crowds, but both equally enjoyable. Gigs allow me to forget about the stuff that’s getting me down, and in those couple of hours, I feel more alive than ever.

-I have written “gigs” in excess, now it doesn’t even resemble a word.-

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passing my driving test

I started learning to drive a few days after my seventeenth birthday, because that’s the thing you do at that milestone age. It was certainly a lot more exciting than my twelfth birthday, when I could legally buy a twelve DVD (that I was still ID’d for). After about half an hour of learning the ropes on quiet roads, I was thrown into the deep end as I headed for the main roads. Now I want to tell you it all went swimmingly, but after I almost crashed into a hedge (it wasn’t funny at the time), I knew this would take some practice.

I was making progress with my lessons over the months, and then one day, for no apparent reason, the thought of getting into a car sent me into a whirlwind of anxiety.

The night before my lessons consisted of tears and lack of sleep, the mornings of; panic attacks and nausea. As soon as I got into the car and drove, all that anxiety went away and seemed irrational, but that didn’t stop it from returning each week. I decided a break would be best.

I reluctantly booked my driving test after a month off, hoping that I could pull myself together. The day of my test, I failed with three majors, and any confidence I held regarding my ability to drive, was gone. I felt like giving up would not only disappoint my family, but myself, so I had no option but to book my test again, and surprise surprise, I failed. I convinced myself that my failing was down to nerves, not me being “incapable”.

In an attempt to prolong booking my next test, I took more breaks, and ended up changing instructors at least three times. In September, I moved to University, and it was the fresh start I needed. It helped my confidence massively. Moving out had been something I’d never thought possible, since a young age, being brought up by a single mum, I’d hated the thought of being away from her. Seeing I could pack up and leave my comfort zone, I realised I could do anything if I wanted it bad enough.

I returned home this summer, got myself a job, learner’s insurance on my own car, and a new driving instructor.  I think I’ve probably had over one hundred lessons in the two years I was learning to drive, oops. Anyway, not that the title of this post wasn’t a big enough give away, but, on 7th September 2015, I PASSED MY DRVING TEST! Yes I cried like a baby beforehand, and yes, I was still convinced I’d fail again, but I was one hundred percent in a much better headspace than the past two attempts.

So, my advice; don’t rush. Don’t pressure yourself to take lessons if you don’t want to, you’ll only end up resenting driving. Take your time, you have plenty of it. If there’s ever a time in life you feel like giving up, be it with driving, even school/college, or anything that warrants you to feel like giving up at some point, find a reason to keep trying. All you can ever do is push against your fears, or any negative thoughts that are stopping you from achieving something. I know it’s easier said than done but, trust me, you have the power to keep going. Stop, breathe and carry on. (Oh and avoid me in carparks, I’m still a bit rusty with bay parking).

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“why Oslo?”

The question I was asked by every single person who took an interest in my plans for a summer holiday. I couldn’t provide an answer other than “it was the cheapest place to fly to”.

Oslo had never been on my non-existent bucket list, and I embarrassingly had to ask my friend where Oslo even was! But after recently returning from my trip there, I could now write a 5000 word essay in relation to “why Oslo?”. Here is a summarised version;

My friends and I booked the trip on a spontaneous whim, not really knowing what the city had to offer. We repeatedly heard how expensive everything was there, and “Can’t afford the Krone” became an inside joke, and the new name for our whatsapp group. That’s one thing I’d point out, the currency. If you ever plan on visiting anywhere in Norway, search around for the best exchange rate, don’t just trust the first place you enquire at. I ended up at Marks & Spencer, the only place who didn’t have to order the currency in beforehand, and the one with the best rate (11.9).

One of the best things about Oslo is the ease of transport. It costs as little as 90 Krone (approximately £7) for unlimited day travel on the metro, tram, bus and even ferry service. Tickets can be bought at the majority of stations, or nearby Narvesen or 7 Eleven. However, make sure you work out the basics of the metro map and travel directions, otherwise, you’ll unwillingly end up in Ensjo at least once a day, entertaining but annoying. If you willingly go to Ensjo, let me know how it is, it might be a nice place, who knows? (the name still haunts me).

Our trip incorporated a 4 night, 5 day stay in an Airbnb apartment. Located in the (I use this term loosely), “hipster” neighbourhood of Grunerlokka, it was ideally situated with regards to supermarkets and transport links. One reason I prefer using Airbnb over a hotel is the experience that comes along with it. Staying in someone else’s home, sharing their space, you really get a feel for local life.

When people refer to Oslo as expensive, I wouldn’t take it as gospel. Sure, it has the potential to be pretty costly, but if you’re careful, you can reduce the burn made to your pocket as much as possible. Luckily for us, we had access to a kitchen, so one visit to the supermarket for groceries was enough to last. I think if we’d have stayed in a hotel and ate out every night, the money situation would have been much different. Airbnb is definitely a huge recommendation.

In terms of things to see, I personally believe Oslo is quite sparse of “tourist” attractions, which is one thing I liked. The lack of shops with “I ❤ Oslo” shirts in the window, although there is a sightseeing bus.  I feel like it “accidentally” attracts tourism rather than forcing it, and losing the culture in the process. Places to note that were worth visiting:

• Opera House (360 views of the city)
• Oslo Cathedral
• The Royal Palace
• Grunerlokka (for coffee shops)
• Astrup Fearnley Museet (make sure you don’t accidentally sit on one of the exhibitions like my friend)
• Munch Museet.

Saving the best till last, your visit won’t be complete without a day spent exploring the islands on the fjord. Hop on the commuter ferry and you won’t be disappointed. My favourite island was Lindøya, the most populated and picturesque of them all. Hovedøya had ruins to visit as well as a huge beach. (footnote; don’t listen to your friends when they say climbing the circumference of the island over rocks with sheer drops to the sea will be “fun”).

All in all, Oslo was not what I expected, it was so much better. Hopefully I’ve given you an answer to the question I struggled to answer, “why Oslo?”.

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