Although this topic is discussed a lot, I have become very angry about the whole thing. Prepare for one of my rants, fellow Bloggers.
Last week I was researching for my Art project; I typed in "child searching" in Google images since my theme is "expectation". I was hoping to find an innocent child looking for snails or searching for someone when playing hide and seek. I scroll down the page to be absolutely horrified. My stomach jolted and I felt like my heart was fluttering away like the wings on a humming bird. I come across a picture of a starving child in Africa searching for food... in the anus of a cow. Yes, you read correctly. I thought I must have misread it first time but no...it is what it said.
This photograph will haunt me for the rest of my days, I am deeply sure of that. That night I visit my grandparents and my father has his daily rant about money and how much is going out and how little seems to be going in etc. The topic of the trams being built in Edinburgh came up. What a load of rubbish. Edinburgh used to have trams and then buses came along and so people thought, "oh... well there are buses now, we don't need trams too." So then they were taken away. Nowadays there is more traffic than ever on the roads and now they are making the place even more cluttered but re-installing trams for a second time for a whopping sum of money. We have cars, we have trains, we have taxis, we have buses... Surely there is enough motorised vehicles on the roads as there is?
My gran then picks up a newspaper and reads out an article about actors being paid £200, 000 to be "difficult" customers for people getting interviewed for BBC television or something like that. I mean, really?
There are many, many examples out there. I'm sure you are aware and I assume you get my point. I just can't see how the people with all that money and all the power to change those things opt to go with such a reckless and needless route. I will do my best with getting involved with charity and sponsor and voluntary work as much as I possibly can. But really... people who have that power and all that money should stop re-installing trams in Edinburgh and cut out all this 'fancy' building work for the Scottish Government (which quite frankly...looks a bit crap) and pull their socks up and actually give all this money to these countries in need.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Thursday, 16 June 2011
January; I started falling...still am.
You, you are different.
A special human being
You make me think of life
in a whole new way.
When I think of you,
As I always do,
You have so much significance,
You expand in my soul and in my heart
Anything I say doesn’t seem to measure
Up to who you are.
When I am not with you,
I am lost.
When I am with you,
It’s bliss.
Every second I spend with you.
I am experiencing something new.
The confusion is disorientating,
Irritating, strange, over-powering,
Wonderful, exciting, pure elation,
Magical…
It’s love. It is! I am in love with you.
A special human being
You make me think of life
in a whole new way.
When I think of you,
As I always do,
You have so much significance,
You expand in my soul and in my heart
Anything I say doesn’t seem to measure
Up to who you are.
When I am not with you,
I am lost.
When I am with you,
It’s bliss.
Every second I spend with you.
I am experiencing something new.
The confusion is disorientating,
Irritating, strange, over-powering,
Wonderful, exciting, pure elation,
Magical…
It’s love. It is! I am in love with you.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Blip
Last year, something really scared me. Being a worry wort, it was always niggling at my mind and I couldn't focus on a lot of other things...
Just a ordinary Monday after a day at school. I pull on my ballet tights and leotard. Then all usual thoughts become an unusual realization when my hand brushes past my right breast. A lump. I fall down Niagara Falls. For the rest of the night a worry of the worst kind gnaws away in my mind. In bed, my eyes are wide and glazed over. It can’t be.
At this point, I did not know what else it could be. With an impressive family history of the dreaded “c” word, it made sense that I was next in line. I started to think of all the things I have in life: my family, my friends, just the gift of life, the amazing feeling I get when I go down that huge hill on my bike and have the wind in my hair - not to mention the occasional fly in my mouth.
About three days after the dodgy discovery, I eventually forced it out to my mother. In the midst of telling her, my mouth went as dry as the hottest desert. It was like the thought of having cancer was trying to keep me quiet, while it got worse without anyone knowing about it. My mother assured me that it was probably nothing to worry about. The only word I took notice of was “probably”. The insecurity and the fear of the unknown was sickening.
I wait and wait for the letter for my appointment at the Breast Clinic at the Hospital. I am eager to find out but my trepidation is more dominant. A few weeks later, I see my name staring menacingly from the door mat of my home. The sound of a washing machine starts in my ears. I rip it open.
From the time I found out my appointment, I kept telling myself not to think of anything in particular - not the worst but not the best either. Coincidently, people started asking me about my future. I felt that could not answer those questions with confidence anymore. If I did I would be jinxing my future, cursing any hopes and dreams I have. People expect to live their lives as normal from each day to the next but no one knows what is going to happen tomorrow. A hex was splitting my anticipation of every future plan I had.
I used to think I was unlucky. I complained endlessly to my mother for “giving” me her terrible migraines and fair skin and to my father for cursing me with a prominent derrière and short legs. I feel so guilty for even daring to think of these things now.
The big day came and I am in the car with my mother in utter silence. The radio is on, not for listening, just to break the barrier of restlessness. We arrive only too soon at the hospital. I walk, shivering and teeth chattering with anxiety. The sun beating down on me, making my hands sweat. Wearing my all black school uniform, I feel as if I am dressed for my own funeral. I hit the anti-bacteria dispenser and some luminous green liquid plops in to my palm. I ask my mother to check in at the desk for me.
I sit down and fill out a pointless questionnaire that I do not even mind doing. It is something else for my brain to think about. I look around the waiting room. It reminds me of an airport waiting room. My name is called and I feel like I have just taken off in a plane. I feel people’s eyes follow me out the room continue down the corridor. I dawdle behind the nurse like a lost puppy and catch up at her heel, waiting for an instruction. I pass a lady with a bald head. Chemotherapy.
We walk in to a small, bright room and I take a seat next to the desk obediently. The nurse holds out her hand and I shake it, introducing herself. I smile back and swallow loudly. I have to strip off. She prods and pokes around. I have to raise my arms, lie on my sides and she draws on me with a pen. I cannot look her in the eyes at all. Then she sends me on the journey to get an ultra-sound on my breast. I meet my mother again. The women ranging from about thirty to about eighty all look at me as if I am an alien. As I leave, I look back in to the room and I telepathically send a good luck to everyone. My thighs shake as if I have been riding my bike non-stop all day as I descend the ugly, grey stairs to the Mammography Department.
A doctor introduces herself and she asks me to take my top off. She puts some clear, unscented jelly on me. I cannot look at the screen so I just count the tiles on the ceiling. Exactly thirty. She rambles on about how her son is at university. Will I get to go to university? Or will I not get the grades because of this? She says that she is going to get the head of the department to make sure everything is normal.
When she leaves the room, I get into the mind set of accepting that I have breast cancer. I know I have. It is just not been professionally declared yet. I try to prepare how I am going to take it. I plan to ask what my next step is going to be. I listen to the distant noises; quick, noisy high heels thump the floor, the many swinging doors banging at the hinges, the eerie squeaks of the trolleys down the corridor.
Eventually, a male doctor enters. A red powder of embarrassment sprinkles on my face. I lie there like a stunned rabbit as he puts more jelly on me. He then uses the probe and I bring myself to look at the screen. Clear for so far but as he moves over the lump I see the difference - wavy lines. I swallow back that invisible stone in my throat. Oh God.
The doctor tells me that it is normal. Normal? At first I thought that my ears were deceiving me. A tremendous wave of elation washes over me. I am sent back to my mother. She looks concerned and obviously waiting for an answer. I give her a smile and tell her I am okay. I know this does not mean I am immune to cancer but at least I know, for now, that I have been given the all clear.
People complain about being fat or ugly or something as silly as having weird shaped knees. I used to just accept it when people said that but now I get incredibly angry and frustrated that they clearly do not see the advantage of living. I feel luckier than anyone. I am not the brightest button in the class but I have a brain and I can see, I can hear and I can walk and talk. I look at friends at school and think about them realise how lucky I am. I am thankful for every day. I love life and I know that I am not going to worry about small, insignificant things like appearance any more. I live for the moment and I am going to live life to the fullest.
Just a ordinary Monday after a day at school. I pull on my ballet tights and leotard. Then all usual thoughts become an unusual realization when my hand brushes past my right breast. A lump. I fall down Niagara Falls. For the rest of the night a worry of the worst kind gnaws away in my mind. In bed, my eyes are wide and glazed over. It can’t be.
At this point, I did not know what else it could be. With an impressive family history of the dreaded “c” word, it made sense that I was next in line. I started to think of all the things I have in life: my family, my friends, just the gift of life, the amazing feeling I get when I go down that huge hill on my bike and have the wind in my hair - not to mention the occasional fly in my mouth.
About three days after the dodgy discovery, I eventually forced it out to my mother. In the midst of telling her, my mouth went as dry as the hottest desert. It was like the thought of having cancer was trying to keep me quiet, while it got worse without anyone knowing about it. My mother assured me that it was probably nothing to worry about. The only word I took notice of was “probably”. The insecurity and the fear of the unknown was sickening.
I wait and wait for the letter for my appointment at the Breast Clinic at the Hospital. I am eager to find out but my trepidation is more dominant. A few weeks later, I see my name staring menacingly from the door mat of my home. The sound of a washing machine starts in my ears. I rip it open.
From the time I found out my appointment, I kept telling myself not to think of anything in particular - not the worst but not the best either. Coincidently, people started asking me about my future. I felt that could not answer those questions with confidence anymore. If I did I would be jinxing my future, cursing any hopes and dreams I have. People expect to live their lives as normal from each day to the next but no one knows what is going to happen tomorrow. A hex was splitting my anticipation of every future plan I had.
I used to think I was unlucky. I complained endlessly to my mother for “giving” me her terrible migraines and fair skin and to my father for cursing me with a prominent derrière and short legs. I feel so guilty for even daring to think of these things now.
The big day came and I am in the car with my mother in utter silence. The radio is on, not for listening, just to break the barrier of restlessness. We arrive only too soon at the hospital. I walk, shivering and teeth chattering with anxiety. The sun beating down on me, making my hands sweat. Wearing my all black school uniform, I feel as if I am dressed for my own funeral. I hit the anti-bacteria dispenser and some luminous green liquid plops in to my palm. I ask my mother to check in at the desk for me.
I sit down and fill out a pointless questionnaire that I do not even mind doing. It is something else for my brain to think about. I look around the waiting room. It reminds me of an airport waiting room. My name is called and I feel like I have just taken off in a plane. I feel people’s eyes follow me out the room continue down the corridor. I dawdle behind the nurse like a lost puppy and catch up at her heel, waiting for an instruction. I pass a lady with a bald head. Chemotherapy.
We walk in to a small, bright room and I take a seat next to the desk obediently. The nurse holds out her hand and I shake it, introducing herself. I smile back and swallow loudly. I have to strip off. She prods and pokes around. I have to raise my arms, lie on my sides and she draws on me with a pen. I cannot look her in the eyes at all. Then she sends me on the journey to get an ultra-sound on my breast. I meet my mother again. The women ranging from about thirty to about eighty all look at me as if I am an alien. As I leave, I look back in to the room and I telepathically send a good luck to everyone. My thighs shake as if I have been riding my bike non-stop all day as I descend the ugly, grey stairs to the Mammography Department.
A doctor introduces herself and she asks me to take my top off. She puts some clear, unscented jelly on me. I cannot look at the screen so I just count the tiles on the ceiling. Exactly thirty. She rambles on about how her son is at university. Will I get to go to university? Or will I not get the grades because of this? She says that she is going to get the head of the department to make sure everything is normal.
When she leaves the room, I get into the mind set of accepting that I have breast cancer. I know I have. It is just not been professionally declared yet. I try to prepare how I am going to take it. I plan to ask what my next step is going to be. I listen to the distant noises; quick, noisy high heels thump the floor, the many swinging doors banging at the hinges, the eerie squeaks of the trolleys down the corridor.
Eventually, a male doctor enters. A red powder of embarrassment sprinkles on my face. I lie there like a stunned rabbit as he puts more jelly on me. He then uses the probe and I bring myself to look at the screen. Clear for so far but as he moves over the lump I see the difference - wavy lines. I swallow back that invisible stone in my throat. Oh God.
The doctor tells me that it is normal. Normal? At first I thought that my ears were deceiving me. A tremendous wave of elation washes over me. I am sent back to my mother. She looks concerned and obviously waiting for an answer. I give her a smile and tell her I am okay. I know this does not mean I am immune to cancer but at least I know, for now, that I have been given the all clear.
People complain about being fat or ugly or something as silly as having weird shaped knees. I used to just accept it when people said that but now I get incredibly angry and frustrated that they clearly do not see the advantage of living. I feel luckier than anyone. I am not the brightest button in the class but I have a brain and I can see, I can hear and I can walk and talk. I look at friends at school and think about them realise how lucky I am. I am thankful for every day. I love life and I know that I am not going to worry about small, insignificant things like appearance any more. I live for the moment and I am going to live life to the fullest.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Stars and Perception
Imagine one day you wake up and the life you were living was just a dream.
I was thinking about the wavelengths in light, sound waves, smell, touch and emotions that all make up everything around us. The more I think about it, the less real everything seems to be. We could all be imagining everything - how amazing our brains are, how amazing human beings are. There could be so much we are missing, too. I mean, I don't know deeply about wavelengths and sound waves but I find it all fascinating. I am not going to go in to any details about it but just the way the theory is all about how our brains interpret the information.
I was watching a documentary, "Wonders of the Universe" with Prof. Brian Cox. It really was fantastic. The fact that every natural thing on this planet is made of the same elements. It makes me think of a whole new equality with every animal, tree and rock. He said,
Incredible, isn't it? That purely the combination of elements makes everything its own.
I have been over thinking this theory and it feels like my brain is filled with misinterpretations and everything is a figment of my imagination. I then question why I am so uptight about everything and how trivial my worries are in proportion to the universe. In proportion to everyday life at home, they are perfectly normal things...that tend to be on the irrational and unrealistic side...but then, what is being irrational? What is unrealistic? What is real?
I was thinking about the wavelengths in light, sound waves, smell, touch and emotions that all make up everything around us. The more I think about it, the less real everything seems to be. We could all be imagining everything - how amazing our brains are, how amazing human beings are. There could be so much we are missing, too. I mean, I don't know deeply about wavelengths and sound waves but I find it all fascinating. I am not going to go in to any details about it but just the way the theory is all about how our brains interpret the information.
I was watching a documentary, "Wonders of the Universe" with Prof. Brian Cox. It really was fantastic. The fact that every natural thing on this planet is made of the same elements. It makes me think of a whole new equality with every animal, tree and rock. He said,
"Every mountain, every rock on this planet, every living thing, every piece of you and me was forged in the furnaces of space. … Every atom in our bodies was formed not on Earth, but was created in the depths of space, through the epic life cycle of the stars."It evokes the idea that there is an energy which allows us to be alive but it is only borrowed. We are all stars, we are made of them.
Incredible, isn't it? That purely the combination of elements makes everything its own.
I have been over thinking this theory and it feels like my brain is filled with misinterpretations and everything is a figment of my imagination. I then question why I am so uptight about everything and how trivial my worries are in proportion to the universe. In proportion to everyday life at home, they are perfectly normal things...that tend to be on the irrational and unrealistic side...but then, what is being irrational? What is unrealistic? What is real?
Thursday, 2 June 2011
A sigh of relief.
As of yesterday, 4pm, I had finished my exams for this year. My first words as I walked in my house were, "where is my f****** Mars Bar?!" I gorged on that (for not a very long time, I have to say. They never last very long...). It's a strange feeling that I have now suddenly got time to do what I want. After whining about exams, I realise that they have put the luxuries of life in perspective. The fact that I can dance, read, write more of my novel and poetry, draw, play violin, sing, exercise when I want for as long as I want, is awesome. So, thank you, exams!
As I expected, the complicated web of problems that had spun between my mother and ballet teacher has caused my sister and I to end our classes. I am not upset, though I am disappointed that it has suddenly ended so badly. However, we are joining a new ballet school! One where I can start fresh and get somewhere. I've been unable to move on for the last two years and I've been yearning for some challenge. So here it is. I'm not hanging around either, I'm joining this evening. I am so excited!I'm really going to make the most of my time away from exams and the pressures of school since it is going to be the same next year. Although, the courses I have taken are nicer and the ones that come more naturally to me (I hope). There is the fear that I may have to resit the courses I've just finished but I'm trying not to think too much about it!
I have one thing to say: bring on the summer!
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