The power of repetition

In the months between finishing my postgrad and coming to London I found myself repeating words I didn't believe. I found myself omitting information I couldn't bring myself to share. I found myself laying a foundation I didn't know I was laying.

I wrote very few blog posts in that time, but I just read one about positive thinking. At the time, I wasn't prepared to divulge how broken I was. This was in part because I didn't want to upset the person who broke me and partly because I didn't want to show weakness.

The interesting thing about weakness is, once you've overcome it, you don't mind people knowing it was once a cross you carried. Of course, I can't speak for everyone, but that's how it has worked in my situation.

Photo by MrsMinifig

But my vague attempts to pretend I was fine and thinking positive in fact led to a newfound positive attitude. Things that I said in that blog post - and that I found (still find) myself repeating to people around me - became part of my being. They sunk into the depths of my conscious and pitched up.

'Nothing is ever as bad as it seems,' is but an example. Telling people that positive energy breeds positivity seemed to ignite a positivity I didn't know I possessed, but pretended to flaunt.

'There are two types of people in this world, those who say they're going to do something and those who do it.' - But another example of a line I repeated, up until the point I became the latter type of person.

Since my return from Hell (also known as sunny Swindon), I've been on many an adventure, spoken to many different types of people, made many new friends and read many new books, as I begin to discover my path. A path I may not have known I was looking for if everything didn't go to shit.

One of my favourite quotes of late is from a Paulo Coelho book: 'Sometimes, certain blessings arrive by shattering all the windows.'

Photo by Ed Schipul

I think that's true.

I think if I can go from wanting to vanish off the face of the Earth, to a balanced contentment so sharply, anybody can. So for anyone body reading this who is feeling down or hating the world or things just aren't going right for you, try a little experiment. What's it going to hurt?

Spend the next month saying:

'Nothing's ever as bad as it seems,' and 'I'm so lucky.'

On repeat. Repetition is key. Say it to yourself and say it to other people. And while you're at it start saying 'yes' more.

Danny Wallace may have played an important role in changing my life =p Maybe you should also read Yes Man, while you're at it.

Every so often things change

Every so often I remember that I've been ignoring you. And slightly less often I tell myself this needs to be addressed. And even less often I find myself sat here, spilling an unedited stream of conscious down the throats of whoever is prepared to read it.

Things change. Life is in this constant state of flux and the better you get at keeping up with the waves, the more fun the whole game is. Unfortunately, nobody ever really gets the hang of the game completely and we all wipeout once in a while.

Since having returned to London at the end of May, I've started seeing things differently. Or rather, I've started seeing things. Really looking at the world around me. Really taking in everything that I possibly can and my change of approach has had positive repercussions.

I am now the assistant editor on Lux magazine - and I can tell you this: This is most certainly the perfect PennieJob.

I get to do real journalism. I get to go out and talk to people and make things happen. I get to organise and write and take pictures. I get to experience the journalistic process every step of the way.

And I am so damn lucky.

My change of approach has me meeting new people, doing new things, seeing new sights. I've always been pretty impulsive, but I'm definitely more so. Just decide and go. Maybe that should be my motto.

As always, every good comes with its fair share of bad and my bad was pretty bad. But humans tend to focus on the bad a bit too much. So I'm putting it in a box. Nostalgia is great but it can hold you back, remind you of a good that you'll never have again and hinder all those new goods trying to find you. And the old goods were pretty perfect goods while they lasted and I will always look upon them fondly, but the world will give you new goods everyday if you let it.

I've been reading an awful lot since starting at Lux - I read a lot already, but much more these days - thanks to my epic hour and a half journey to work in the morning (and thus hour and a half journey back again). My love for Paulo Coelho has been rekindled with a new found openness to the universe and to life in general. This openness has pushed me towards a path that I'm sure I'm meant to be on and have no idea to where it leads. But that most definitely makes it all the more exciting! It's a constant adventure and a daily dose of something new and it's perfect.

The other day I met a witch. I've never met a witch before and it was fascinating. I feel as though I learnt  much about myself and the nature of being through our conversation - perhaps not 'learnt' in the sense that I could explain any of it to anyone, more like this subtle understanding that I'm going the right way.

I have no idea what that way is and I'm pretty sure everyone's way is a different way and thus certain paths must cross and sometimes walk together in time, but eventually paths must split.

We will all come across people within our lives who we were meant to meet and who will play an important role in our lives, so just go with it while it lasts. You never know what they can teach you.

Not talking

A friend just sent me to: Why shoddy writing is better than good writing by Claire Creffield. His intention was to hurry me up and encourage me to blog something, so here I go:

During an emotional crisis, not talking seems like the best idea. The more you talk about something, the more you are thinking about something and the more that something is going to get to you. So I try to avoid talking about things that make me cry.

The only problem with this technique however, is that it is normally something that I probably need to talk about.

So, where do you find the balance?

If you start talking about these things that you know in your gut you shouldn't talk about, then start getting over emotional, you look like a fool. This is only going to make things worse, because I can guarantee that more often then not, you are going to tell the person that you really shouldn't be telling and looking like a fool in front of the person you really want to think highly of you.

So, what do you do?

Well, as it stands, I have absolutely no idea. I think it's about trying really hard to not feel anything, then you can talk about it and it doesn't matter. But even better than that: it just doesn't matter.

I used to be in a constant state of it-just-doesn't-matter a while back. Some of you may remember way back when, when I first started this blog. I named it A Broken Nihilist on purpose. Dissect at point. Then something happened. In amongst the general rubbish that life throws at you, I caught something special.

Happy works like dominos.

Once you start getting happy, suddenly you look around you and everything is fabulous. You see rainbows on cloudy days and find change lying around. You believe that everything is going to be ok and that the world is actually alright. That things always work out how they are supposed to.

You start to believe things you once thought were ridiculous. You start to believe in love. You become that bubbling pot of rainbow juice.

The problem with this new happy-clappy-loved-up-flappy state is that you are vulnerable. The most vulnerable you have ever been. You get paranoid. You become terrified that something is going to shake the boat. Then before you know it you are right back at self-destruct. Right where you started - and you have no idea how to not be. You realise that within the nothingness of before, you were safe. You realise that pleasure brings pain. You wish more than anything that you can just go back, go back to feeling nothing. You try to convince yourself it's possible.

But your efforts are wasted. Inside you can still hear that happy-clappy voice telling you to keep going. Telling you the pleasure is worth the pain. Telling you things will work out and to be strong.

So the internal conflict leaves you bouncing between paralysis and mania. And you sit and wonder what you are supposed to do to make everything alright. You sit alone, like before, and try to focus. Because when you focus you are amazing. And you know you are going to make it, but you don't want to have to do it alone.

But I guess life is full of ups and downs and it's just part of growing up to learn how to deal with both. However the number of midlife crisis' and such leads me to believe that an awful lot of people never figure it out.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the matter.

First Days at MPG

Yesterday was my first day of work experience with Millivres Prowler Group. I woke up extra early to give me getting-lost time or the often necessary London's-moving-too-slowly time. As it turned out I was far too early and after a quick induction was handed over to the editor of Diva, until the guys I'm working with got in. She too studied philosophy at university, so we were talking for a while, both having written about Marxism. She seemed very cool, (most people do in fact). I spent much of that time telling her that I was amazing, to the point where she told me if that was the case they'd have to scoop me right up. So here's hoping I impress.


I got put straight to work actually writing stuff which is amazing! The first of which can be found on the Pink Paper website, following the link below:

http://news.pinkpaper.com/NewsStory/4049/12/10/2010/good-samaritan-film-scoops-25k-at-iris-festival.aspx

I have been working on things for Diva, Gay Times and Pink Paper, which is fantastic. Last time I was with them, in 2008, it was only Pink Paper stuff.

Today I was given a news piece to write about concerning a man running for Senate in Kenya. If elected he would be the second elected gay politician in Africa. I wrote a short article on it, then (who I imagine is like) his right hand man emailed us saying he's rather it'd be more focused on the positive stuff. So I phoned him (in Africa) and got the Senate's phone number. I however got a 4 and a 5 the wrong way round and ended up phoning a woman who didn't speak English - three times. I soon corrected this and phoned the right person (thank you internet).

I interviewed the Senate over the phone (for over 10 mins) then transcribed the whole thing and turned it into an article. This was all very scary, seeing as phones make me anxious, but I did it, and I think I did it well. It's all so exciting. I've been gleaming all day. This is most definitely where I want to be. At one point today I had three things to do (including sorting the interview stuff). I loved it. I loved being busy. I loved writing. I loved researching. I loved the environment.

Hopefully the article I wrote today will be up on the website tomorrow =]

Oooh the editor of the Pink Paper wrote me a letter today to take with me tomorrow to my interview (tomorrow is my interview for the post grad in magazine journalism), which is all very exciting. I wanted to take a clipping of the piece published in the paper copy of Pink Paper in 2008, but I can't find the paper in my box of stuff. I found my scrapbook, which has a clip of it stuck in, but it's too heavy to take the whole book for one page... and I wouldn't want them looking at the rest of it.

I am feeling very positive. I hope tomorrow goes well.


Be sure to go check out superpennie.com - It needs to become part of your routine =]

Moving Up, Along And Backwards

I have much updating to do here and probably not all that much time, so I'll just jump straight in. I have been working on my website lately and am only deciding and discovering what it is I want exactly as I go along. In the spirit of going with the flow I will begin using it from now, posting stories and such and we can all just watch the site grow and develop together. Some of you may have already noticed the address for this blog has been redirected to become part of my site, going under the title blog.superpennie.com. I will continue to use this but will also be using superpennie.com too. Everything I post there will have either a copy posted up here with a link or just a summary with a link for you all to see.

Hopefully this will mean more content from me. I already have a few ideas in the works. The first of which I wrote on the tube yesterday and which I will hopefully get online over the next couple of days =]

In other news, I performed at The Great Bardic Alliance in aid of National Poetry Day last night. The Guardian published an article discussing modern poetry and mentioned the night, which you can all read and comment on here. To begin with I was a little annoyed with the author, but on further consideration, we were given free advertisement in a national newspaper, so that's a win. It was an awesome night and I got to see many acts I have never seen before. I was there representing SpeechMotion 

I have a bit of footage and will hopefully be getting a video or two of me too, so I will be sharing those with you shortly.

Remember the work experience I had to cancel when I tore the ligaments in my ankle a while back? Well, I have managed to rearrange it and I will be starting on Monday! This is very exciting, but it does mean I will have no money and have to travel around London everyday without a student Oyster card... I've not worked out how that will happen yet.

And finally, I have an interview for my post grad in magazine journalism on Wednesday. I don't want to say anymore about it, partly because I don't want to jinx anything and partly because I don't want to get too excited, but you all have to wish me luck and send me good energy and do whatever other ritualistic things you do, if any, in these situations. It would be much appreciated, though admittedly not completely understood. But I have come to accept that I will never truly understand very much and those who say that they do are either pretending or mistaken.

Telling Stories

After being somewhat inspired by the new blog of a university friend of mine, I decided sharing some stories from my past with you could be quite interesting. Having a retrospective view of the events allows for a different understand of how and why things happened, whilst offering you, my trusty army of followers, an insight into the life and times of SuperPennie, before she claimed her title.

Once upon a time, lived a dorky little girl called Pennie Varvarides. She was the youngest of three, born nine and a half years after number two, her elder sister Helen. You may be wondering why there was such a massive gap... no? Well, I'm going to explain this to you anyway...

After my mother had my sister, she had one of those coil things put in, so she couldn't have any more kids for a while. They couldn't really afford another one and they had far too much work to do as it was. Unfortunately something went wrong and the coil got infected, so it had to be removed. The dr's told my mother she wouldn't be able to have any more children. She just wanted to put it off for a bit, until they were in a better place, but it looks like the dr's just took with them any hopes for another child, ever, even if they were ready and really wanted one. So eventually they stopped even thinking about it (I don't actually know if that's true, I'm just guessing... but I'm the storyteller... so I'm allowed =p), until one day my mother started going through those familiar signs of pregnancy.... that's right... it was me!

My parents and the dr's were all worried that there would be something wrong with me and this is how I got my name. In the Greek Orthadox religion, by naming your baby after a saint you are promising them your child's soul in exchange for protection... or maybe that's just the deal my mum had with Mary. You see Pennie is short for Panayiota, which in Greek is the name taken from the word Παναγια (bah-nah-yee-ah) referring to the mother of Jesus; Mary.

My sister always told me she asked Santa for a little sister and that he gave her me... I was born in March though, so just always thought Santa was tardy with his deliveries that year or something.
My brother always told me he had asked for a little brother and to compromise, rather than sending two new babies, I was a tomboy. This sounded logical to me... I just always assume I was like a boy, just without boy bits. Made perfect sense... to a 5 year old.

Being considerably younger than my brother and sister (as well as all the cousins) I got used to playing on my own. So much so, I kind of preferred it. Now days, I'm still pretty much the same, really enjoying any time I have to just hang out with myself and not have to talk or worry about whether my actions are fitting into those social norms everyone tries so hard to fit into....
Actually, to be honest, I never make that much effort in trying to be sociable and follow suit. I just have been lucky enough to find other people who are equally bonkers or geeky to bide my time with.

In playing by myself, I would often lay claim to empty notebooks that my parents had yet to start on and pens I found lying around. I'd write my own stories, of love and adventure and even put them into chapters. I'd pretend I had my own magazine or newspaper and interview adults around my parents factory if I'd been taken with them on days there wasn't anyone to babysit me. I'd write my own songs and dance around the house singing to myself. I was always writing. If I wasn't writing, I'd be making up games where I'd be keeping scores... where I'd still be writing, just stretching my arithmetic skills.

It didn't occur to me that I was always supposed to be a writer until fairly recently though, as strange as that is. I had wanted to be a scientist and invent things from as young as I can remember up until the age of 7, when I switched to wanting to be a lawyer for some reason. I imagine this thought was carefully planted in me from an external source, but I have no idea. When deciding on universities I went to visit King's College London on the law open day. I then went to a few other law open days. I realised it was most definitely something I never in a million years ever wanted to do. But I did however fall in love with King's and had my heart set on studying something there.

I picked up the prospectus and flicked to the humanities section, as writing and reading have always been my strong suit. Humanities subjects are the ones I'm best at. Had a flick through, took in mind the ALevel grades I thought I could get and picked a course out of those choices. It came down to philosophy and English lit, but as I'd never done philosophy before, it seemed like an amazing idea and I went with it.

This all kind of makes it sound a little planned out and thoughtful, but in reality this process took about 5 minutes. I can be fairly impulsive sometimes, but I find it normally works out ok. Part of me just kind of knew that was the right decision and there wasn't anything else I should be doing.

I wrote the most amazing personal statement, with help from a friend of mine from Taekwon Do who was currently doing her masters at King's in English. On seeing my personal statement my head of sixth form got really excited and came to speak to me. He had studies Maths and Philosophy at university and wanted to share in a moment with me. I had no idea about any philosophy whatsoever, apart from the first book of Plato's Republic which I had read while writing my personal statement for some inspiration and to be able to say I read it.

He introduced me to Sartre. He lent me Nausea and insisted I read it. I was hooked. By the time I finished reading it I was in love. In love with Sartre. In love with philosophy. And in love with words. The book made me feel so much, so much more than a book had ever made me feel before. I knew then that I had to be a writer. To one day create something that can make somebody feel even half as much as I felt reading Sartre.

One day, I'll write something that amazing. But I'm still just a baby in the grand scheme of things I guess, just finding my footing in the world. So I'm not in a hurry. When something comes to me, I'll just go with it.

Eye's Wide Shut

Though there has been much of a transformation in my outlook and behaviour this year, I have far from reached my goal. My goal being the place I would most like to be of course. I still find myself falling into the same traps and missing the same sign posts I've failed to avoid for a while. But the other day offered me a wake up call. From another one of my own mistakes I was able to truly see why I need to move forward and let go of certain chains that have held me down for so long.

But how? How does one walk away from their comfort zone and step out into the real world? To start taking responsibility and taking all ones chances rather than letting opportunities fly by?

I imagine to one extent or another, everyone has been in a similar situation. Perhaps you are so used to a person you can't recognise their actions as being negative or inappropriate; perhaps you are so frightened of the world you are quick to retreat back into yourself and your world of fantasy. There are a million different scenarios you could find yourself in, that leave you lost or broken.

I can't pretend to be able to help anyone achieve anything. I'm still young and don't know much. I can't imagine I'll ever know much, perhaps just learn how best to deal with a lack of true knowledge. Or how best to deal with the superficial knowledge we are accustomed to. But this isn't a philosophical blog about the nature of knowledge and our ability to possess it... I'm sure many of you already know where I more or less stand on the matter. This is about a community helping each other.

I like to think that my regular followers can come together through their comments to share some advice with one another. I have come to realise the only way to save yourself from a bad situation, is to find something to hold onto that makes you want to stay clear of the darkness. But finding something to hold onto isn't enough. You can't climb from the darkness for someone or something else, because if that thing or person were to ever disappear you would fall straight back down. You need to do it for you. You need to truly want to see the light and have that happy fuzzy feeling when you wake up. You have to want your health. You have to want to achieve something. Having something to aim for makes it easier; set's your focus.

I would love to hear back from you lot! How do you pick yourselves up when you're down? How do you keep yourselves from falling back?

Spotting The Light In The Darkness

For those of you who have been by my side since my early days of blogging, you have most likely noticed a shift in perspective. Some followers may have since stopped reading, having felt the darker tones were what they required of me, rather than the sparks of light that sometimes weave into my consciousness. To those, I apologise. Not for letting you down, but for leaving you behind. 

Constant negativity and pessimism may seem 'realistic' but does nothing for you. It leaves you hollow and bitter. This is from first hand experience, perhaps it suits others better, but I for one love it when I can hold on to the good. Sometimes I pretend to see the good, as many of you know, because it's what those around you want. It's hard work being the one having to put up with the negative person who wants so much but expects so little, to the point where they stop wanting. I've been on both ends of the stick, so I can understand both sides. It takes a lot out of a person if you're always down, and you can say it isn't your fault that you're down, the world just hates you, but I've seen people who have been through more than I could have imagined still shining bright. These people are doing more than just holding on and being strong, they are living. They are taking the world by the horns and riding it all the way to the end. These people inspire me. 

On Saturday I woke up in a very bad mood. I feel like if I tell you why I'm over disclosing, but perhaps we've come too far not to. I woke up in pain, horrible, stomach crunching pain. It seems by body is confused about the natural menstrual cycle and is on repeat, every two weeks. To anyone who has ever experienced a bad period, I'm sure you can empathise. I then discovered numerous texts and missed calls from my mother, who has locked herself out, along with my father and our dog. I'm not entirely sure how all of them got locked out or how they managed to close both the inner and the outer door... but I am the only other person with a key. 

Instead of getting a locksmith (who would be there in 30 mins) they wanted me to come and let them in. You may be thinking, that's hardly a big deal Pennie... but I am in Swindon and they live in London. So it would take me 3 hours to get there at least, especially as I just rolled out of bed! 

Has anyone travelled London on a weekend? It's not fun, I assure you! Almost every tube line had part closures or delays meaning we didn't get to their house until around 4pm (we woke up at 11.45 ish). 

You can imagine my dismay at this request. I was not happy. 

But now, the light...

Saturday was my best friends 22nd birthday and I couldn't afford to get to London to see her. The situation with my parents meant, they would give me the money for the train thus enabling me to see my friend. We were able to surprise her by turning up at her door unannounced when she finished work. We also spent the day baking her a magnificent birthday cake until we met up with everyone in the pub for a birthday drink. 

As I wasn't expecting to go I sent her a card on Friday - recorded delivery - so she could open it in the morning. It didn't turn up on time. I also sent her a present from a website online, paying for next day delivery. Not only did this not turn up Saturday morning, but I was charged twice, because their website malfunctioned. I was sent an email today saying it's been dispatched, but I emailed them on Friday demanding they do not charge me twice. I was ignored. I may have to phone them. I just hope she would have got it today at least. 

Amongst my really bad day I was given the opportunity to see my friend. By focusing on that part it helped me ignore the bad mood I was in and enjoy the day. I suppose it's a lesson for everyone... search out the good bits, 'cause it'll help you through the bad. 

Life in a wheelchair

I recently discovered a whole new world; a world where more often than not you do not exist and you do not matter. Thanks to my own clumsiness I found myself wheelchair bound for about three weeks, with a torn ligament and an oversized, purple and green ankle (sounds lovely, I know). It is almost as if this ordeal allowed for a bit of undercover investigation of what life is like for those in wheelchairs. So, ofcourse I decided the best thing I could do would be to share my experiences with you lot.



(Gross, right?)

For anyone who has ever attempted travelling London in a wheelchair, it comes as no suprise that ramps are not a common feature. I was lucky enough to have been able to grab hold of my crutches to hop up and down stairs where necessary whilst someone else was left with the task of carrying the wheelchair (usually Kaity). I must stress how massive this wheelchair is! I could quite easily fit two of me sat side by side in it! But what about those people who are permanately tied to their chairs? In all honesty I have no idea how the people who can't just stand up, get around London at all.




I began what became more than just a journey from Zone 5 of London to Swindon, but an unecessarily difficult mission to the beyond.  




As it goes, busses do not really have much space for wheelchairs and their access ramps don't always open. 

It also seems as though not many Underground stations have lifts, meaning we had to try to take a route that would accomodate us. Handed a giant map of the London Underground, which was designed to help blind people out too I imagine, the journey began. 


I do have to give it to King's Cross for having lifts, placing it ahead of many a station, but it was like working our way through an underground labyrinth, moving from lift to lift trying to change lines spread across different levels and at different ends of the building. Having made it all the way to Paddington, we were naive enough to think we'd be in the clear... Oh how wrong we were!




Paddington station, one of London's prime mainline stations, failed to provide any accessibility and right when we thought they might have had some sensibilities towards those who's only mode of transport is on wheels, they yet again let us down. The gap from the tube to the platform is a little scary! As Kaity pretended everything was ok to me, to stop my panic, she tried to figure out how on Earth one person could ever possibly get someone in a wheelchair onto the platform. We were lucky; four men jumped to the rescue and picked the chair up off of the train and on to the platform. In small pinches throughout my time in a wheelchair, human kindness was discovered. People would go out of their way to be helpful... This is most definitely a side of London I don't usually get to see. 


Once on the platform we were faced with our next challenge; the flight of stairs up to the main station. A man that worked there appologised about the lack of accessability and offered to carry the chair whilst Kaity helped me up the stairs on foot. I wonder how I would have made it if I couldnt use my legs at all! 



To top it off, we saw the most ridiculous scene. Like I mentioned above, we could remember there being a ramp and rolled over to where we thought it was. We were excited to be able to just relax for a minute and roll along to our train. Alas, things were not so simple; at the top of the ramp were three steps leading down. 

I can't understand why this is necessary. Who's idea was it to build steps leading down to the disabled ramp? Who was it that looked at the proposed idea, and signed it saying, 'yeah, sure. That makes sense'? 


I have a new found respect for anyone who has to deal with this day in and day out. Both disabled people and their carers work incredibly hard just to go from A to B, something we constantly take for granted. Even something as simple as going into a shop and having a look around becomes a task, having to fit through gangways placed too close together. Many trips to the shop taken during my time in the chair, would result in me being left near the entrance because the chair could not fit to navigate the store. 


Back to the topic of human kindness, it does seem like people are a lot more willing to help those less able, if they could see them struggling. Well, sort of...


As it goes, people were more than happy to help Kaity help me around, but it was very rare for anyone to even really look at me for too long. It was as though I didn't really exist, just a piece of luggage a pretty lady was struggling with. Being us, we questioned many people while we were out, taking the opportunity to talk to strangers (as we do) and learn something new about a world I for one never gave much thought to. 


Many people told me they didn't want to offend anybody by offering them help, whilst others would be more than happy to help someone if they needed it. It seems like it's a tough call, as there are all those  people who are independent and can manage on their own, regardless of anything we might class a handicap. I did however sure appreciate any help people would offer, but maybe that's because I'm not used to having to deal with such situations alone. My upper body strength is somewhat nonexistent, so rolling myself along in the chair or using the crutches to get anywhere was far too difficult and I'd have to stop every 20 seconds for a break. 


People would constantly be apologising to me, even though normally it was me that was in the way. On the train back to Swindon, we were in search of somewhere to put the wheelchair so we were out of the way and were pointed towards the wheelchair space. A woman with a buggy was on one side, so we parked the wheelchair on the other; there was plenty of space. She immediately began apologising and trying to take up less space, she then asked us if we wanted to take her seat as she had a table on the end. We politely declined and left her and her child put, but she explained how her wheelchair bound friend is always complaining about buggies in the wheelchair space. 


The train conductor came to talk to us and apparently we can request help getting on and off trains, who knew? This meant once we reached Swindon we could just roll off on a ramp rather than me jump out and Kaity carry it off. If only we knew we could ask for help sooner... 

Just My Luck

Saturday was Kaity's Mad Hatter's Tea Party. It was the most amazing party I have ever been to in my life. There was a piñata, bubbles, Twister, Jenga, sword fights, fancy dress, party hats, edible tea cups, a trampoline, poi, frisbee, some other ball type toy thing to throw, vodka jelly, bowls and Ring of Fire around a bon fire. As well as lots of booze. What more could anyone possibly ask for from a party?

How about a cake?

Anna spent ages making THE most amazing cake ever. I wish I had taken a picture from a different angle so you could see just how great this cake was. 

At the end of the night some friends were leaving and after saying goodbye we remembered they had the only pack of Rizla. I was sent on a mission to catch up with them and ask for it before they left, so off I went, running down the garden. 

It was dark and I couldn't really see.

I've only been to Anna's house a couple of times so I'm not exactly familiar with the place. There was a couple of steps at the end of the garden that I hadn't thought about and went flying to the ground. I lay there for a moment to gain my composure then attempted standing up to continue on my mission. I'm not a quitter and figured a bit of pain shouldn't stop me from doing anything...

How wrong I was...

Standing up most definitely was not happening. I lay there a little longer then started thinking about how stupid I had been. You see, about 5 minutes earlier when the friends I was chasing were leaving, one of them had in fact tripped down the step that had just taken me out. I was there. I watched her do it. And I laughed.

I only laughed because she was ok. If she was hurt it would have obviously been different. But there I was...

When I was sure I could gather myself, I stood up and hobbled to the living room. I lay down on the sofa and just rested for a bit. Thought about taking a nap to be honest... naps and water solve everything!

15 minutes later K and a couple of her friends appeared wondering where I'd disappeared off to. Then saw my ankle. It was gross.

Before letting them put an ice pack on it I felt the need to pause and take a picture. I hope you appreciate it!

I was lucky enough to be around awesome people, so I was well looked after. K's parents took me to the hospital the next day, so I got out of tidying... plus side?
It's a torn ligament, so if I keep off it for the week it should hopefully be ok. Just need to remember to not walk. This is something I have discovered is really hard work. I realised how much I hate people having to do things for me, it makes me feel so guilty! I hate feeling like a burden.

I was sat in the hospital with K's parents, in a wheel chair and was staring at my ankle. I was sure it wasn't broken, but nobody else was. The nurse sent me for an xray and whilst in the waiting room I started thinking about how funny it looked and how funny it would be if I had broken my ankle on K's 21st birthday. Now that is a lasting memory... I burst out laughing.
For ages.
In a silent room.
I just couldn't stop myself.

I've realised how much I take my body for granted. I don't appreciate how easy it is to be able to walk around and get yourself a drink when you get thirsty. I'm just going to be limping around for a week or two, this is some peoples life.

As you know, this week is the first week of work experience... I am however incapable of doing very much. I am gutted that I have to postpone it for a week as I have been so excited about it but on the bright side, I get an extra few days with K. I was supposed to be heading back to London for a month so we wouldn't be able to see as much of each other, but I couldn't get myself back home like this.

Wednesday is graduation so tonight we are heading back together so I have someone to help me. After graduation I will rest up the best I can all week to make sure Monday morning I can make my way to the office! It also means, I get a few days at home being looked after by my mum and catching up on things I could be doing. I'll just have to make sure I am on the ball when I get to the office on Monday to make up for being so clumsy. You always want to come across as amazing in these situations and make a good impression, I am worried that this ankle thing may damage that a little bit. Hopefully when they see how excited I am about writing and working with them, it'll give me bonus points to make up for not being able to walk.

Everything will be fine. And when I can walk again I'm going to make use of those legs of mine and be a little less lazy. She says...

I'm really lucky it wasn't worse and I'm really lucky it was at the end of the night. I got to spend the whole day playing! Well, a lot of the day was in the kitchen tidying up but I took on the job with pride. I imagine Anna and K spend just as much time if not more doing the same. If I ever make it as a writer I'll be sure to hire cleaners and caterers for K's party.... I'll just throw her one for shits and giggles. It can be an unbirthday party =p
I've become that person that always looks on the bright side. When did that happen? Blame K.

In Response to 'On Wearing Less'

This is a response to my friend from Philosophia. Read his post On Wearing Less here.


I think there is something in the idea that nudity is treated as something to be ashamed of. As if the human form is some embarrassment to bare. By covering up and hiding bare skin from innocent eyes, a culture of shame is formed convincing people that there is something wrong with their bodies; something wrong with the bodies of other people. It is as though people shouldn't be comfortable in their own skin, that they need to hide behind their protective wall.


The idea of a carpet of shame and embarrassment around the human form isn't universal. This means it can't be something inbuilt in human beings but rather something created by our culture. If you look at tribal type communities, inhabitants wear minimal clothing. Women have their breasts out and nobody bats an eyelid. 


Where has this come from? Why has society created taboo's around the subject. I'm not saying people should all walk around naked or anything, simply that nudity has certain connotations. It's seedy and dark, holding a negative banner over head, drawing in negativity. The only nudity we are offered is in a perverted form; think of boys mags for example. This perverted idea surrounding nudity forces people to think of it only as perverse rather than the simple state of nature that it is. We are animals. Like animals, we shouldn't be ashamed of ourselves and feel the need to hide. We shouldn't look upon the bodies of others and judge them. 


I can't imagine a dog walking round in a pair of trousers looking down on the dog going commando... 


By only being given an airbrushed picture of perfect naked bodies we are convinced that we ourselves are flawed. That our imperfections make us ugly and we should hide our bodies away unless we can match such beauty. We are regulated by taboo and made to feel bad about ourselves and look down on others. In America everything is even more regulated than it is over here, but it's all the same thing. It has reached the point where something as natural as breastfeeding is condemned as a private activity that should be hidden behind closed doors. 


I'm not calling for a revolution. This isn't me saying, let's all walk around starkers. This is me saying we don't need to be embarrassed of being human. We all have skin. We do all look different, but only to a degree. By trying to prevent prudence and hide from shame, a culture of shame was born. 


Gok has something good going with How To Look Good Naked showing people they can be comfortable in themselves. 
This may be not so much a response to William than inspired by his post. A branch from the same tree so to speak. Let me know what you guys think on the topic and also go check out William's blog =] 

Human Leather

I came across a website selling products made from human skin thanks to the wonders of Facebook. Initially you think it has to be a joke, right? People aren't walking around wearing dead people, are they? But there are an elite few "who have everything they could possibly desire" and this company has snapped up their need to stand out and show off their wealth. They've given them something to spend their money on that very few people will have. Products sourced from the skin other people.

You can get your hands on a Human Leather Wallet from €9,000 (USD$14,000 approx) or if you're really splashing out, why not grab a pair of shoes from €18,000 (USD$27,000 approx)? Roll up, roll up, fresh out the morgue...

Obviously my initial response to this is "gross! What's wrong with people?" How is it someone has so much money that they don't know what to do with that they're willing to walk around in some dead guys back? 

Then I began to wonder how they got hold of the dead people to use their skin in the first place, so I had a nose around the website. Apparently people "bequeathed their skin" to the company before they died. The families of the "donors" are apparently rewarded very handsomely, which I imagine means a big pay off. Surely something like this opens doors to killing off sick or unwanted family members for the "reward". It's like the whole organ donor argument as to whether they should be sold rather than donated. If people need money, what's stopping them from killing off people to sell their skin or heart or lungs?

But then there's the other side... poor people can make money out of their dead relatives. If they're dying anyway, it's not hurting anyone to take money from the very strange rich people wanting to turn them into belts and shoes... though it is somewhat disrespectful. Just like, if someone has good organs and their family has no money, you may as well sell them to save a few peoples lives as well as your families when you die. Surely we'd get a whole lot more organ donations if they were getting something out of it. People find the idea of their body being chopped up and spread between the bodies of other people creepy, but if they could help their families out they'd probably be more willing to save a few lives. Most of the time nobody cares about helping anyone if they can't get anything out of it. 

For the record, I'm pretty sure I'm an organ donor and I'm not expecting monies out of it. 

Of course, lives are saved through organ donation whereas all that's happening with skin donations is rich people get to feel like they're some sort of elite. Next step is stuffed human heads above the mantle piece in between the deer heads... 

But why is wearing a person so different from wearing any other animal? What is it about human leather that makes us go "ew"? I imagine it's the same sort of notion as cannibalism. It's turning on one's own kind. It's this bright light illuminating the fact that nobody is safe. When someone is sat at a table eating a chicken, nobody thinks anything of it, because it's a chicken. But if they were eating your uncle that would be a different story. We have connections to other people. I imagine if someone was eating you dog you'd be pretty upset too. It's the emotional connections we have with things that stops us from thinking it's ok. From being able to stand objectively and say, it's just food and I need to eat. Or it's just shoes and I wanna protect my feet. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter. Both on human product as well as organ donation. 

Self Worth

Everybody wants to be loved. People want recognition for who they are and for their strengths. A lot of the time, if people feel as though they are not getting these things, they fall into themselves. They question their worth and their ability; question themselves. Ironically if you don't have faith in yourself it becomes difficult for other people to have any in you.

Modesty is drummed in as a virtue, when pride is seen as a vice. This confuses the situation; people proud of their accomplishments play them down to look modest. This makes others lose interest and almost agree that it's not a big deal or they see that you're wrong and lose respect for you. But of course, pride can be misconstrued as arrogance and piss people off so that doesn't do you any favours either.

So what is it people are supposed to do? What is the middle ground?

I imagine in most cases the answer is: lie.

Pretend that you think you're pretty. Pretend that you think you're skinny. Pretend that you think you're great.
Or vice versa, pretend you don't think you're that pretty or that great.

What good does lying to everyone do? Well, I'm not a self help guru. I can't help anyone out and I can't solve the worlds problems. But I have noticed that if you pretend you think you're pretty and you look comfortable in your skin people will warm to your confidence. It draws people in.

People love confidence and can't help themselves. But nobody is attracted to the fat kid pulling at his tummy. So maybe the answer is doubt silently and put on your game face when you're out and about. You'll get more friends, more work, more everything. Because those are the people that succeed in life. And heck, maybe if you lie to yourself enough, you'll start to believe it and sooner or later you will be comfortable in your own skin. Maybe if you play the game you'll get to win in the real world AND in your own head.

Nobody achieves anything sat around sulking.

You have to listen to your inner critic and instead of letting him beat you down into a dark room, prove the fucker wrong!

Underground Challenge: July 5th

Monday is our Inspire a Stranger day! This is what we've been preparing for. Cards have been handed out and left all over the place, videos have been made, pictures have been taken. Here comes the moment we've all been working so hard for. I hope to see lots of people taking part on the day, taking pictures or videos of themselves playing along so we've got some sort of documentation of our first run. The next one will be bigger and better of course, but we do already have over a thousand people involved via Facebook, plus anyone not on Facebook who we've spoken to and roped in.

This week has been push week so we've been promoting the challenge wherever we can. Hopefully get some media attention if we can. I want to see pictures and videos from you lot showing me what you got up to on the day! This is a community project, a world wide community. And where better than to share it, than the world wide web. The interweb is our portal; for everything. Let's make a change and most importantly let's have fun! Don't forget to smile!

Underground Challenge: Promo Video

The Underground Challenge Promo Vid is live!

Check out the group and the video and help us spread the word. Not long left until our Inspire a Stranger day on July 5th so help us get as many people on board as possible!

Also, let me know what you think about the video!

Sorry posts are scarce at the moment... I'll give you a proper one soon!

Here Comes The Count Down

In about 19 hours I will be done. I will have walked out of the door of my final exam and be free to play at being a grown up and existing with out the massive safety net that education provides. While I was in school I was guided and protected from what it is to exist in the real world. Living alone and paying bills whilst at university has left me with a vague impression of it but it's skewed. In about 19 hours university will be over and (on the theory I did well and don't have to re-sit anything) I will be left stood at the foot of a mountain with just the few tools I was handed along the way. I'd been walking with a guide up a hill for years and I was under the illusion that it would be consistent throughout, but then the hill got a little steeper and a little steeper until here I am facing the biggest challenge I've yet to come up against and my guide is walking back down the hill to pick up other travellers.

Ok, so this analogy is a little long winded, but you get the idea. I have been sat in the library revising for the last six and a half hours, in which time I have concluded that I really dislike epistemology and though I was aiming for 3-4 different topics I seem to just have one huge all encompassing one going on, which is a little scary, but the other philosophers I've spoken to seem to be in the same position.

I was studying hard up until my black pen ran out. Note taking without a pen is kinda difficult believe it or not... I was writing in pink and red for a while, but all the notes being in pink and red isn't so great so I stopped and started reading. I've been debating whether I should go to the shop and buy a new pen or just go home... so far sitting here is winning.

I have work experience sorted for a month with Pink Paper in the summer, which should be fantastic. Hopefully they let me write some things... I did work experience with them when I finished my first year for just a couple of weeks and they invited me back. They let me write an article and review Reading Pride which was awesome, and I'm hardly going to refuse their offer to return!

There is this journalism course I want to get on as well, to start in January. I've got the forms ready to apply, but it's still too soon. The next course runs in July, so I'll wait for the first deadline to pass! If I apply quickly, hopefully I'll get some points...

I'm also looking at a media internship with the Green Party, which looks amazing. I couldn't find anywhere on their website that made applying for that simple so I've emailed a couple of email addresses I found in the hopes of a response... if I fail to hear back from them, maybe I should give them a call.

There is so much I want to do and I'm excited to be able to start my life, 'cause up until now it has kinda been on hold. This will be the first time I'm not in education, 'cause I never took a gap year. I now have time to get on with all my different projects; to dedicate time to my poetry - to my writing. To really get on promoting the Underground Challenge.

There is of course a pitfall in my master plan here and that is my lack of funds. I can afford the journalism course, after saving up for it this year, but that's about it. I need to find myself a part time job to work around my busy schedule up until I start the course in Jan to fund my life a little bit, other wise I'm screwed. Hopefully after the course I will find myself a writing job on a magazine somewhere, that would be ideal. Maybe a travel magazine, that'll send me all over the world to review planes and hotels.... Haha it might be a dream, but it's a plausible one.

Now, I suppose I may as well return to perception and the sources of knowledge... as well as induction of course, 'cause everything just comes back to induction.

Ooh ooh, before I go I'd like to leave you with something interesting I learnt in my revision yesterday. The word 'testimony' comes from the Greek word 'testis' and it would literally mean to swear on ones testicles... that would be a sign a person wasn't lying! Well, it made me laugh so I hope it at least put a smile on some of your faces.

On Death, Descartes and Exam Times

My Modern exam is on Friday so I have been sat here attempting revision.

I took this picture before my Religion exam the other day. Sat getting those last-minute moments of greatness when I figured if I didn't know it by now, a last stab wasn't going to change anything. Luckily, it was Religion and I love the subject so it all went pretty well I guess. The best so far. 

I've gone for colour co-ordinating stuff this year, in the hopes of my brain being able to store things better. I think it's working. 

In yesterdays Phenomenology exam I was writing about Heidegger and Being-towards-death which hit a nerve a bit. On the way home my bus stopped for an unusual length of time at a bus stop with one of those 'don't let your friendship die on the road' posters, which made me think about Carrie and Chelsea (the friends hit by a car on Jan 1st) and remind me how much I hate the world sometimes. It's unfair and cruel and I have no idea how people are meant to deal with it. Heidegger said something along the lines of death being the one thing we're always moving towards but can never understand. It's the only thing we cannot understand through somebody else's experience; someone else dying doesn't help me understand what death is. It's this abstract idea that we're constantly surrounded by but will never get our heads around. 

Theists posit ideas of an Afterlife. I imagine theories on what happens next were created to make the whole process seem less scary. It means the end doesn't have to be an end. It means when you lose someone they don't have to be gone. It offers peace of mind to some degree. 

Let's take the resurrection approach to an Afterlife: On the last day we are all brought back. Our bodies are resurrected and continue in an afterlife with a god or something. For materialists all we are, are our bodies. There is no soul. So for a resurrection to be possible our bodies would have to remain in tact. Van Wagenen said only those whose bodies were not destroyed would make it; this implies our ancestors wont. Humans decompose, everything does; that's how it works. Chances are on this version, we wont make it either... 

Then he offered some crazy theory of God in his omnipotence storing the dead bodies in a magical freezer until it was time but replacing the bodies with look a likes so nobody got suspicious. Obviously for a materialist the Afterlife, though not impossible, seems unlikely. 

Then there is more of a common idea on the matter that we all have souls and when we die these immaterial entities rise up from our bodies and head to paradise. This makes an Afterlife more plausible; if you believe in the soul.

I remember when I believed in all this. I remember thinking that maybe Heaven was different for everyone and that it didn't matter what you believed, 'cause it would be moulded around that. Different religions weren't in conflict and everyone would get a happy ending. Looking back I can't help but think I was a little naive. 

But then people die. And people start talking about them watching over you and waiting for you and being happy and all this stuff that I can't relate to. I hold my tongue out of respect, because why the fuck should I try to take the little bit of comfort they get from such ideas because I'm sceptical. I don't think we could possibly know anything about any sort of supernatural or any immaterial existence or being based on our material, natural existences. 

Maybe there is something, but theists all fall in their theories in my opinion. Mostly because they think they have the answer before they begin. The answer is always God. They then commence to prove why they are right. They're not looking for what the answer could be because if it's anything other than what they want it to be they don't want to know. 

I'm agnostic about it all. 

There are so many different theories and gods and rules that all came about to suit the time they are found in. Religion offers people what they need. Take the ancient religions for example, they offered answers that science hadn't found yet. They were replaced by an all powerful being, because it sounded scarier and followers of the old religions converted just incase this new angry, jealous god took vengeance on them for believing in the lesser gods. 

None of this matters right now though, 'cause I'm looking at Descartes. He feigned scepticism to break down everything we know just so he could build it all back up again and prove that there must be a god. The God. But it's like he gave up. In fact, it's like he never even tried. All he wanted was to show there had to be God and there had to be a physical world, so when he got to the part about explaining how we know anything he rested it all on the fact that God wouldn't lie to us. 

But I realise, instead of getting angry at him I should just make notes and move onto Spinoza and Hume, 'cause regardless of any of this, I have an exam on Friday. I have three exams left before I finish. I have been working towards this for such a long time that I shouldn't just give up in the last leg. The world around me is a reminder than none of this matters much in the grand scheme of things, but it used to matter so much. £20K in debt or however much it is, shouldn't be in vein. I guess. And I'd be so disappointed in myself if I didn't do what I should be capable of doing. So I'm going to push for the last couple of weeks until it's over and I have to start working out what to do next. 

Socrates constantly echoes in my ears reminding me the only thing I know is that I don't know anything.


Oh and to the guys who's blogs I've not checked out in a while, I apologise! I have a lot to catch up on when all this revision and such is over with!

I'm Pretty Lucky

I've noticed a lot of people phase through friends and by the time they're my age would have had 20 different best friends, none of which they really talk to anymore. They call it growing up and I've spent my life being told that friends grow apart and I shouldn't let myself get too attached. That these people don't really care about me and will split if I ever need them so I shouldn't do everything in my power to help them when they're the ones in need.

Being told this all the time has scared the hell out of me, because I have some of the best friends a girl could ever have, most of which have been the same best friends I've had for years. I not only have one amazing best mate, who'd I'd trust with my life, but I have a few. A few amazing people that I get to be myself with and I love more than the world.

When we finished school we all went out to celebrate. At one point in the night Greg said something along the lines of 'this will be the last picture we ever take as a group' lifting his camera into the air. And that was it. I was off. I spent the next hour (or so) crying my eyes out, screaming that we would never see each other again and we'd all lose touch. This was because we were all going away to university (apart from Greg who went straight into the being a grown up thing). Now I was drunk and so were they, so they mostly laughed at me and took pictures and told me not to be silly, 'cause of course we'd keep each other. I was melodramatic enough in my tears to have got one of my friends to start crying with me, but let's face it, Si will cry at anything =p

3 years later and these people are still my best friends and I still love them and talk to them. I don't talk to all of them as much as I'd like, but when we do talk it's like we've never been apart - that's how it should be with friends. We just carry on from where we last left off. But now I am coming to the end of university, as are a couple of the others and I'm faced with the same fears that were instilled in me as an 18 year old finishing school. In this time I have gained an extra best friend, as well as a SuperFriend from uni.

I was told that the friends you make in school disappear but the ones you make at uni last forever. So either I'm really lucky or they all just did it wrong, 'cause I plan to keep the friends I made at school forever. Though I have a pseudo adoption going on with my SuperFriend and her family, so I plan to keep her too as well as the extra best mate I collected along the way who is tattooed onto my arm.

This is a lot of people to have so close. I think most people don't really understand it and that is because they don't have it. I guess it's the same as how people don't understand those in-love when they haven't been in-love. Humans can only ever really know what they've experienced.

To be honest, I don't really like 'people' very often so don't make much effort with the rest of the world, 'cause in general people suck. But it means I'm free to put all my efforts into this lot. And I miss them all so very much (even though I do at least get to see Greg all the time as we live so close this year) and hope that we can have lots of us time when we are all free.

But see, this is that growing up moment for a few more of us now and there are so many things I want to do with myself; with my life. I want to move as I am currently back at my parents and my sister will be moving back in whilst she rents her house out to raise funds, 'cause artists never make a grown up wage but their art is always more important. I want to do internships and volunteer and save the world whilst racking up experience points to apply to this journalism course I've got my eye on. I want to spend time with my beautiful girlfriend who I love and who plays make believe with me, 'cause she's still a kid inside too. She's perfect (though writing that down on such a public forum makes me feel a little silly, if I'm honest). I want to travel and to actually do things, 'cause I've done hardly anything at all.

But how on Earth do I find time to do all these things and keep my friends who will all also be off doing the grown up thing? I am terrified of ever losing them, because they mean the world to me and I'm often nostalgic for the days we've spent together. These people are my rock(s) and without them I couldn't survive.

So here I am; sat attempting to study for Friday's exam but all I can think about is how much I miss them. I have been in hiding from the world for a really long time only letting a few people in and the best ones all being their own amount of busy, but we're coming up to summer and I would really like, before we all fuck off and do our own things to have some best times. Because I am one of the luckiest peoples in the world to have them.

This is my family.

To Live By A Theme

Sat waiting for Nightmare on Elm Street to begin in the cinema last night (I may give you a review of it later if you're lucky), I was telling my friend about my trip to the Disney Store the other day, where I came across some amazing trainers. They went up to size 3-4 and were only £10 so I figured seeing as I am a size 4 and they were so damn cool I would have to get myself a pair. I do love being small and fitting into children's shoes

This was when she told me this theory of hers she'd been thinking about. She told me that live my life by a theme and I'm like the only person she knows who does. I thought about this a little then asked her what she meant. Theme of My Life: MAGIC. 


Haha what an amazing thing for someone to say. Obviously an amazing theme to live by too... I don't think I've ever really thought about it before and if asked I imagine my answer would have been 'childhood' or something but 'magic' is so very much cooler.

So let's recap.

I have faeries tattooed down my back. I now have them all the way down, but I didn't have a decent picture of all of them, so this old one with just the first faerie will have to do.
This is in the theme of magic I guess =]
Plus the two tattoos I've already shared with you of SuperMe and of the DrinkMe Bottle, which should both count as part of this magical theme.

Then there is my poetry, a lot of which falls under the magical banner along with my stage name SuperPennie.

So instead of me going through all the magical aspects of my themed life, which I imagine would be somewhat tiresome, I am going to ask you all to contribute your own themed lives.
Do you have a theme to which you live by? What is it? How so?

Goodbye Safety Net; Hello World

I have one month left; one. That's a month of exams that I am underprepared for and terrified of sitting. That's one month of living off a student loan and being an unemployed student. That's one month to determine where my world goes next.

Needless to say, I'm somewhat scared about having to take on the role of 'grown up'. Life is just a series of playing different parts; taking on new personas. We're all on some sort of journey in the process and I guess everyone takes their own, but I feel like mine is about finding out who I am and what it means to be. Not what it is to be me, but to be. Period.

Everyone has goals in mind for what they want their lives to be - or what they think it should be. Theres the capitalist ideology of getting a big house, full of nice things and all the bling to let everyone know you made it. But this has most people falling into debt to try to secure. There's the got-to-have-a-family ideology, where people end up settling too soon. There are people trying to find love or God or excitement. Everyone has something they are after. There's a link to most of them though; happiness. 

People think happiness is the goal. They're trying to achieve things they think will make them happy. The only problem is, most of the time as soon as we hit our target we soon discover it wasn't good enough; we need to aim higher. We're a greedy species really. Though maybe that's not completely true. Some people find contentment despite the pressures of their surrounding societies. That's what I'm after; contentment. Fuck knows where you find it though.

So here I stand, approaching the end of university and now I have some decisions to make. I need to work out what is 'best' for me. Which direction it is I 'need' to take. Which goals I need to aim for. But how can I possibly know what it is I need to do to understand life? All I want is some sort of understanding; some wisdom. And I know that as it stands I don't know anything. The more I understand, the more I realise I don't know a thing. This understanding is depressing. But even so, I'd rather know than be blissfully unaware, as I once was. As much as I hate the nausea I still feel as though I'm better for having got this far. 

Part of me wants to just believe something, even if it's the wrong 'something'. It's the part of me that thinks I wont ever really know anything but so long as I believe something, I'll find a contentment in my discovery. Only the rest of me thinks believing the wrong thing is worse than not believing in anything and I should put up with the nausea until it can be properly over come. 

So I'm at a loss. 

But I will read. And explore. And hopefully understand a little more everyday - both about myself but also about everyone else. About being and existence and life and death and maybe on this journey I'll just discover that I've been wasting my time looking for the wrong thing, but at least I'd have been looking. 

I started reading a book today. I was stood at the train station with a half hour wait until my train arrives plus a two and a half hour journey back home so stood in front of the books in Smiths scanning. Out of the corner of my eye was a bright blue one with clouds on it. At this moment I decided that would be the book. Before knowing anything about it - before even reading the title. Maybe that's a stupid way to pick books, but heck it worked out well. 

It's called Hector and the Search For Happiness. It's written like a kids book but it's a grown up theme. It's definitely a PennieBook. It even starts 'Once upon a time...' 

I'm just over half way through by the time I get home and I'm loving it. I'll share whatever I learn with you when I finish it. 

The internet where I am has been rubbish - so by the time I've posted this it's technically tomorrow...