A philosophical procrastination resource.

Who are you? 

Can anyone answer this question properly? My answer is no. Most people would reel off a list of labels. Me too. We have bodies with recognisable characteristics, but we can change them if we like.

 I could get plastic surgery, get a spray tan, cut my hair short, dye it black, wear brown contact lenses and ask a stranger who I am. They would be describing someone else to my friends who know me as Liv, the girl with a blonde bob, milk-white skin, blue eyes and a small chest. My point is that we project who we want people to see, which I do. #paleandproud

That's just the surface. Superficially, we can 'fix' ourselves, the ethics of which can at times be questionable. The bit underneath is what we so often hide away. Our deepest fears, desires, wants and needs are encased in a tangible vessel of living, breathing, walking, talking components, assigned to you at birth. Your mind and soul can never be seen, only experienced or described. I believe that the self image we project only ever shows a third of us to the world for that very reason. 

We choose what to reveal from the other 66.6% of us by using our physical body as a window to communicate ourselves. Sometimes, we let people in on the little secrets we harbour inside that shell which we prune, preen and perfect for the outside world, which can be scary. 

Why are we scared? It can't REALLY hurt us, not really. We're all governed by the same emotional risks but we're afraid of what we can't understand. We live in an age where we want answers, predictions, reasons and justifications for what is happening in the now. We Google on our iPhones all the questions we don't dare to ask real people. We post on Instagram to get superficial approval, rather than have meaningful human interactions. We want admiration in this Instaculture and are losing the subtle art of patience for the answers to difficult questions. We throw away what no longer serves our purposes, our microwaves, cars, holey socks, old CDs and sadly, people too. We don't fix, we replace. We can't get the answer to the question: 'why', because people can't be explained by Google. We are left to wonder, and we have to fix ourselves when we feel broken, a completely counterintuitive notion within the boundaries of our societal norms. You can't replace a memory or a feeling, you have to learn to live with it. 

But who am I? I'm Soob, Blondie, Miss Thornton, 5'6, size 10, blue eyes, daughter,  acquaintance, best friend, sister. I was five years old once. My mental health is stable. I have a degree, I can sing, and I can work a room or absorb it from the sidelines. I love to talk, philosophise, learn and make judgements. I'm fickle, insecure yet certain, religious, contradictory, and I pay my taxes. I vote, I'm bad at maths, and I have no idea what I want from life except to be happy at the end of it. I'm aware of my naivety and very unassuming, and I think, a lot. Those are the labels I could use to describe 'Liv'. It's not enough, but it's a start. 

If I live to be 100, I'm only 24% complete in my life experience. So no, I can't answer the question of who I am. I think the best answer is probably 'I'll start you off with some labels and you can come and see for yourself'.

Interestingly enough, it's a question we ask each other every day, and possibly the one we're most scared of answering.

Oi, Quirrell!

 I have a little theory. Wouldn't it be great if people were nice to each other? At work, school, home, with friends. In so many walks of life, and to so many people, there is backstabbing, maliciousness, and a lack of compassion. It is so unnecessary.

I hear things about people all the time. Whether they're true or not, is none of my business. If I really was concerned about the person being talked about, I'd go and ask them if they were ok, did they want to talk etc. but only if I knew them well enough. And if I didn't know them well enough to have that conversation, then I don't believe that I should have the right to put that person down in public, yet behind their back. It baffles me that people can reach adulthood and not understand basic principles of common decency. It is not hard to be nice.

It depends what the topic of conversation is regarding that other person's life, but often, that individual needs good friends. People who are going to be there no matter what, to help them through whatever has been thrown their way. Maybe they made a mistake, but have you? Maybe they said something they shouldn't, but have you? Maybe they got dumped, or fired, or missed church 3 weeks running, threw up in a plant pot, or put on pills, but have you ever done any of those things? Or things like them? What if you did in the future? Who would be there for you, and what is their incentive to be there? What do you do to benefit others? Do you understand the whole picture, or do you run with a half baked story at the expense of others?

People will always talk, about whoever, about whatever. But it makes me so angry that more people will talk about that person than to that person, or give them the help they might be needing.

Respect, decency, compassion, love and care. We teach children about these things. But many adults still don't understand what actually practicing and embodying these things entails. We all need reminding to take a step back and look at ourselves from time to time, myself included.

The selfish thing to do is bring attention on yourself by spreading the gossip to look popular. The selfless thing to do is to discreetly help that person by going directly to that person and supporting them, or actually, just being nice. You don't even have to say anything to them, or anyone else at all.

Two faces didn't work out so well for Voldemort either.

A moment of seriousness 😐

I didn't know Robin Williams. I mean, I knew of him, but I can't say that I'm heartbroken that he's died, because I didn't know him like his friends and family did. I do think his death is very sad nonetheless. If the rumours are true that his death was related to depression, it just goes to show that this illness is a killer, and is very serious.

Many people forget that this is an illness in the process of trying to help someone out of depression, and the sufferer can feel as though they have little or no control over their own feelings. That is a terrifying experience, and may be one of the main recognisable feelings, given that almost everything else is just absent, or a void of negativity.

It's not that those who suffer depression don't want to feel better, they literally don't know how. It feels like digging your way out from the underground and having no idea when you're going to see the light, or if there will ever be any. As you start to recover, you observe everybody else functioning as normal above the surface, like a strange glass ceiling is between you and them. You want to be up there with them, but you have no idea how that's going to happen.  You want to be there, really there in the moment with them. You want to talk about how you feel and not scare anyone. You want them to be there for you, but if you're honest, you might lose the last thing keeping you going.

Fuck it. If you need to talk, talk honestly. If you lose people, you lose them. It doesn't really matter, because you would have lost more by trying to be cautious, which could delay your recovery.
 As you get better, you do see light, but this time it's like you're underwater and you need to find the whole in the ice to escape from. You feel like you're cold and numb inside, and sometimes it dawns on you that you can't breathe, and the overwhelming sense of uncertainty and self-doubt are the primary feelings you wake and sleep with.

People around you may not know what to do with you or say to you. But if you know someone with depression, all you have to do is be there. Don't set up an itinery of 'fun' things to do, your presence is enough. Understand that the person you're trying to help needs your support just as if they were suffering a physical illness, and if you were close to them beforehand, you will already know that the best of them is yet to come. That person who literally brought light, life, energy, happiness, positivity, good stuff to your day is in there somewhere and they can get better. Yes, they might feel like they have nothing to live for, but they do.

I'm not a medical expert but I do know that depression is a horrendous and dark illness to suffer from, and that you can feel happy again one day. Maybe not immediately, but if you compare it to the seasons, to get to summer you have to go through spring. That takes time, and even then, sometimes it rains in summer, but when you're at your best, you'll realise everything good that you can offer. You can appreciate the view the most when you're at the top of the mountain. It's just that when you're stuck in a metaphorical forest on the mountain, you can't see the view, or the big picture.

You can one day be there in those moments you observed under the ice,  you can even create those moments. People can love you for everything you are, see your lust for life, your energy. You end up feeling things again, like, you really want to go out tonight, you'd love a giant rack of ribs, you want a glass of wine, you'd have a great day if you went to the beach next week, or booked a holiday, or went on a shopping spree. The simple fact that you want to do stuff is what makes you who you are and have an influence on people.

This might sound like a strange kind of cheesy rambling pep talk to anyone. But the audience is anyone. Depression is indiscriminate of age, gender, racial background, and wealth. You, or someone you know could suffer from it.
This should not be a taboo subject. People should be talking about this.

Gymming it

Gymming it

So, I recently joined a gym, which seems a bit insane, because I'm probably the laziest person I know. I don't do any exercise, I hate sport, unless it involves walking upstairs to climb into bed (make of that what you will). And I always thought the gym was a bit soulless, and a bit naff.

Anyway, a load of my friends are members, and I've been peer pressured into exercising. So I thought I'd educate you on my recent PT session. My aims are to tone my core, bum and thighs.

We took my fat measurements alone in a spa room with candles, which felt incredibly awkward with a man I just met. Anyway, I managed to avoid exposing my knickers. Thank God I invested in those stretchy pants from h&m that can be forced backwards over the knee.

Back to the PT session. I have never felt the presence of my arse so intently in my life before this hour in particular. And it has definitely been there for 23 years, it's been very much there for about 10 years. So I did all these exercise things, he was firing info and technical terms at me, which I don't have the capacity to understand because I'm an RE teacher and I'm too busy memorising the Hail Mary to cope with adding muscle groups into the mix. All I could grasp was that my legs hurt and my arse hurt more.

So we got to this step/platform situation which was super high. So I was told to step on it and lower myself down which was supposed to make my legs look super hot eventually. I did not look hot as I fell to my gluteus maximus (I do know one muscle!) however, because I could not cope with the height of this crazy platform situation. My legs literally just failed me.

Anyway, he then walked me into the weights room. From the outside, there could have been a gay orgy going on in there, men were leaving sweaty and looking flustered, and questionable moans and grunts were emanating from the vicinity. Anyway, I put my assumptions to one side, and strolled in, a bag of pale scrawniness hoping to look casual. I think I pulled it off.

I almost died in there, I had a seat for a little rest between each squat. My thought process was, 'ok, nrghh, don't make an orgasm noise....owwww this hurts....how did I end up here....what if I fart from this effort....?...now I can sit down, ah what a---argh, oh God I bruised my arse when I fell off the too-high platform!' And so on.

It did not help that my PT kept saying things like 'explode', and 'the deeper you go, the better the result'. Maybe it comes from working with teenage boys that makes me suspicious.

We concluded with what felt like simulated childbirth by working on my core.

5 days on, all of the whatever they're called muscles feel ok again. I might go back soon. But getting my tattoo was genuinely less painful.

Regrets I have and how to overcome them

This whole idea of having no regrets? Well, everyone has them, and the only way to avoid making the same mistakes again is to learn from them. Everyone has regrets.

So here's 3 things I regret and what I've learnt from them.

1. Going on a second date with someone that you have absolutely no interest in. After feeding the ducks on date 1, walking round and round the same lake, getting colder, all of a sudden the heavens opened. Sadly, it was not the dawning realisation that I'd discovered 'the one'. The sun was not smiling it's rays down upon us, it was in fact pissing it down.
So we ran back to the W reg Renault Clio and did not passionately kiss like the scene from the rainy boat from The Notebook. We drove to Morrisons.
After all this, I decided for some reason that date 2 (bowling) would be a good idea. This resulted in 'Jack's a dick', which is now widely known as the get out clause for any bad date in my entire friendship circle. I literally had to ask a friend to ring me fake crying. In future, I'll just be honest. Lesson learned.

2. Underestimating myself. I'm aware this sounds a bit cheesy. But I've come to realise that I'm actually quite good at a lot of things. I'm just incredibly harsh on myself in lots of ways. I'm very good at 'what ifs', but when I actually take a step back from the situation, I realise that things really aren't that bad.
It infuriates me when other people tell me I can't do something, or will find something hard, and it infuriates me even more when I soak it in and say nothing to them. Actually, who is anyone else to say you can't do something? No one. They aren't in your head, your position and haven't lived your experiences. How do they know? Well it's quite simple, they just don't.
If someone tried to tell me I couldn't leap across the Grand Canyon in one jump, I'd be like, 'cheers for that advice, thanks for the tip-off', but I've almost abandoned my career before it started and spent a year feeling worthless because I listened to someone else underestimating me in the past. It becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. What a waste of time. You make yourself happy, if you know you'll be fine, chances are you will be.
So when I feel rubbish, I try to make myself aware that I'm underestimating myself and that others might be too.

3. I will eternally regret trying to grow up too soon. Through my whole childhood I was desperate to be a proper adult and glamourised almost every aspect of what that would be like. I wore make up when I was 12 because I felt like I needed it, and something like that just seems ridiculous now.
 I remember being 3 years old, eating marmalade on toast with my Mum. She went to the loo, and when she came back I demanded to know whether she'd washed her hands, because that's what all grown ups say when you've been for a wee. Little did I know that they only speak in that way to children. Fail mini Liv, fail. I just wanted to be one of them! I relished being a big sister, even though my little sister was bossier than me in her shiny red boots. The devastation.
I think I never really did being a teenager, I felt like I did being 13 to 18 in one year, and I went straight into my career after uni. Part of me wonders, if I just enjoyed being young, how much more really awesome stuff could I have done? I'd probably have made tonnes more mistakes. I could have just been really skint. But that's part of it perhaps. I still really want to go travelling. Maybe I will one day.

So my advice to myself is, be honest, value yourself, and don't grow up too soon.
Hmm, I like that. I'm off to eat some cheesecake.

The reality of your twenties

Being in your twenties is all about realising that how it looked when you were a teenager is in fact nothing like the reality. In your teenage mind, you WILL be a goddess of all things, constantly stunning, (even in the morning) you will be amazing at your job and as a result very rich, and sickeningly happy, because there will be so many people dying to go out with you, and of course you will have met THE ONE (if there is such a thing). Your hair would always be perfect (because you can obviously afford a haircut, yes?) and your skin would be positively glowing. Your chest would also be spot free, above the magnificent boobs that would have sprung into being by your twenties. You would sleep like Snow White, serene, elegant and dignified. There would be no hangovers, and being drunk would never go wrong, because you could only be effortlessly cool, because all of the being uncool would be over by the age of 18. Obviously. Mistakes would also be a thing of the past.

Haha ha ha HA. In actual fact my life is very little like that, so I thought I'd write a post about it, because it's what I fall back on when time is on my hands!

My reality is that I am not a goddess of all things unless that is being a bit weird, and increasingly like Bridget Jones. I am not constantly stunning, but I am quite good at make up :) I usually wake up looking like a deranged panda. A bit like Tim Minchin combined with the hair.
My job is nothing short of challenging at best, but is getting better slowly but surely, and it's been the hardest year of my life, but something I'm very proud of doing.
I'm not rich, but the richest I've ever been, and I'm not sickeningly happy and the crowds aren't clamouring at my feet for a date.
My hair is far from perfect especially in the morning, when a few birds raising their young in there wouldn't look out of place, and I still cut and colour it myself, sometimes, GREAT SUCCESS, others...moving on.
My skin is also a bit poo, but again going back to the make up thing, thank God I have the gift to gloss over Pompeii with limited success. Chest is ok, although my boobs are not magnificent, I can run downstairs without a bra. A minor victory.
I sleep with my knees bent and the duvet over my head, and I'm aware this is bizarre. Neither elegant, nor serene. I am also frequently uncool, as I'm reminded by my students several times a week, and also not so cool when I'm drunk either. And I do get hangovers, and wake up with morning breath that is reminiscent of a mcdonalds that I have no recollection of desiring, purchasing or consuming. With tinnitus worse than yesterday. RINGGGGGGG.
Getting out of bed is also still a royal pain in the arse.

Additionally:
Not getting ID'd being a bad thing
People saying 'oh..you've graduated' then backing slowly away.
Moving back in with your parents
Being the least experienced of all your colleagues ('oh, you'll look back on this and see how far you've come'--Christ, am I that bad?!)
And finally, this little gem..

'When are you going to find a nice young man and settle down?'
Shoot. Me. Now.

All of this is a bit tongue in cheek as you may have gathered. I just have to laugh at my 15 year old assumptions. There are many things I love about my twenties too, in many ways it has been awesome, but the stupid stuff is far more interesting don't you think?

The PGCE 'I can't do this' moment.

So whilst my blogs are few and far between these days they are definitely something I’ve had every intention of returning to.

A lot has happened since I last wrote as I believe my last bit of inspiration came around the time of my Grandma’s funeral, but I've been so busy ever since.

To update you, I’ve almost finished my first placement, have passed Stage 2 of my PGCE and have joined a dating site which has been the source of a few interesting evenings!

I really didn’t know what to write about tonight, it was a toss up between several things but I picked the PGCE 'I can't do this' moment.

I think everyone gets to a point on the course where they have had absolutely and utterly enough. You have moments every day when you think ‘why am I doing this?!’ but this is next level. You actually write the email to say you’re going to quit and are on the brink of sending it. For me I’d worked 18 hours the day before, had 4 hours sleep and had an unbelievable amount of work to do in just one day in order to meet an important deadline, and I just didn't have time to do everything. I’d been having one meal a day for several weeks and just had no energy to go in and tell children to turn round and face the front, stop swinging on their chairs and shut up.

These are some of the reasons why I reached ‘Black Tuesday’ as I like to call it:

• ·         My lessons are never good enough. There is ALWAYS room for improvement.
• ·         I’m a perfectionist. I can never plan or evaluate in enough detail to satisfy me.
• ·         I miss my old life. I’m not a student anymore. Someone has abducted my social life - taken it from me, and at some points I wanted to ring that person up and give them Liam Neeson’s ‘I will find you…’ line from ‘Taken’, with even more conviction than he showed.
• ·         Some of the kids have literally no respect whatsoever and will treat you like you’re subhuman.
• ·         You get put in a school, you can’t choose where you go on placement. That’s not to say I hate my school, I don’t at all, but it might not be the right place in the long term even if you get fantastic experience there. I did find it hard at points.
• ·         People who just don’t understand telling you that you don’t even know what stress is yet because ‘you’re not even a real teacher with a full timetable yet’. That is not a helpful statement in the least. Have you done this?! Oh you haven't? Then be silent!

However, there are obviously reasons why I haven’t dropped out yet. The golden moments that make it worth it – here are a few:

• ·         ‘Miss, I really enjoyed that lesson’.
• ·         When kids say thanks to me for teaching them.
• ·         Meeting their parents and realising they actually give a shit about their child’s education.
• ·         ‘I’ll be sad when you leave Miss’.
• ·         Whilst a lesson will never be perfect, there are elements of some of my lessons that have come close.
• ·         ‘You have created some fantastic resources’
• ·         When someone tells you they can tell that you genuinely care about what you do.
• ·         ‘Why was John afraid to baptise Jesus?’ ‘He thought Jesus would beat him up?’
• ·         When a teacher comes up and asks if you’re ok and says that if you need anything to just ask.
• ·         Random texts off my Dad to say he’s proud of me and Mum calling to check if I’ve had a good day.
• ·         Getting told I look like Beyonce, Taylor Swift and Alice in Wonderland all in one week by the same child. The first one?!
• ·         When an experienced teacher tells you that they think you will make a good teacher.

So to anyone thinking of doing a PGCE, prepare for your ‘I can’t do this moment’ because it will probably come at some point. But when it does, bear in mind you aren’t the first or the last to feel like you can’t even look at the school logo without wanting to vom! If I can do it, then anyone can!

To all my fellow PGCEers, we made it this far! I’m so proud of us.