The second brain

Another joyful visit...

Thu, 20 Jun 2013 11:56:30 +0100

So, once again, I’m sat in my great grandmother’s stuffy living room, my eyes flicking back and forth, mimicking the watching of a tennis match, as my nan and her skeleton-like, white wispy-haired mother exchange scathing remarks.

“I bet I’m right! Want t’bet?!” Great Granny squawks, trying to hear herself over the decade’s worth of wax clogging her ears.

My nan waggles her finger, leaning forward in the armchair.

“Why would I want to bet when I know I’m right?” she cries, her suddenly shrill pitch making me flinch. This pointless battle for supremacy continues for a few minutes until, finally, I just cannot take it anymore. I slam down my cup of tea and widen my eyes at my nan in an owl-like fashion, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to channel the owl’s famed wisdom and therefore get her to heed my words.

“Just drop it,” I say sternly enough for her to hear but quietly enough for Great Granny to carry on with her monologue undisturbed.

You see, my great grandmother has dementia and whilst her mental health had previously been in a slow decline, it is now rapidly deteriorating. She doesn’t recognise her grandchildren half the time, cannot remember asking questions asked mere moments before and it is quite common to receive a nocturnal phone call from the police, informing us that she’s out in the streets, completely delirious and claiming to be visiting friends and family long gone.

Fair enough, it must be stressful for my grandparents but my nan’s reactions to Great Granny’s incoherent ramblings is hard to sympathise with when you consider the fact that she used to be a mental health nurse. If she can’t cope with my great grandmother two afternoons a week, how on earth did she cope with multiple patients five days a week, pretty much all around the clock?

When I think about it, though, I can see how it differs to her work situation. This case involves her own mother. It’s a lot more personal. Her mother, and everything that she used to be, is fading away, leaving only a malnourished shell; a taunting, constant reminder of everything that she has lost…and continues to lose. Dementia is like death…except that you can’t journey through that vital grieving stage that helps us recover from loss. The pain of loss just carries on and on and on…

I imagine she sometimes wants to shake Great Granny and scream “Mother, i know that you’re in there!”. The conversation detailed above, it could be argued, was born out of anger at losing her mother emotionally and spiritually and out of a refusal to accept her condition; she snaps back at her mother because her repetition and forgetfulness brings it home once again…it reminds her of the awful truth. That she is losing her only remaining parent in an awful way.

It doesn’t make it any easier, though, even when I do consider this. I sometimes wish she would play along (because Great Granny will forget the conversation anyway) and make the most of the time that they have left together as mother and daughter.

I'm sick of my city

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 14:31:00 +0100

I sometimes look at my city and think “Wow, this city is really scummy.”

As some of you may have seen, I have been ranting incessantly on Facebook recently about the idiots protesting against the building of a mosque in the city center. The mosque is being built on the site of a demolished dairy and the current site, strewn with rubble, beer cans and plastic bottles, is a bit of an eye sore - do people seriously think that this looks better than a potentially beautiful religious building dedicated to a religion that promotes peace and harmony in its truest form? Apparently not.

However, that is just an argument for the aesthetic potential for the site. My main cause for ranting is the mindset of these people. I have argued with so many people over the past few days and deleted others from my ‘Friends’ list over this matter. I respect that everyone is entitled to their own opinion but the sheer stupidity embedded within some of the comments I have been hearing and receiving is absolutely mind-blowing.

A small minority of the population within Lincoln seem to forget that the mindless killing of Lee Rigby last month near the Royal Artillery Barracks in Woolwich was committed by an absolutely tiny minority who claim to be Muslim. In reality, Islam is a religion that preaches love, peace and kindness to one another and the followers of this true path are absolutely appalled by the recent atrocities that have been committed (as is shown here) I strongly feel that it is unfair to tarnish an entire religion, made up of millions upon millions of innocent men, women and children, with the same brush. A portion of the people guilty of this claim that this is a ‘Christian country’ and that Muslims shouldn’t infringe on our beliefs and way of life and should “go home”. There are two points I’d like to make in response to this statement: firstly, the UK hasn’t always been a Christian country. Initially, the UK was a country that worshiped Pagan gods and Christianity was gradually introduced into this country, very much how Islam has been over recent years, by the Romans. Therefore, technically speaking Islam has just as much right to be present within this country as Christianity does because in theory, neither religion is native to this country. My second point is that a large proportion of Muslims, especially younger ones, were born and bred in this country so pray tell, just where are they supposed to “go home” to? I really wish people would consider these points before blurting out brainless statements.

I’d also like to point out that no religion has been perfect over the years. Christianity, especially, has an extremely bloody history. Examples include the colonization of countries such as the USA and Australia, times in which millions of natives were enslaved and torn from family and friends, violently raped, beaten and sometimes even killed. These acts were justified as the ‘propagating of Christianity’ to the supposedly uncivilised. Other examples too include the burning of so-called ‘witches’ at the stake in the Middles Ages and the infamous Crusades of 1095-1291. It would seem that like Islam too, Christianity has had its fair share of extremists. Should we ban the building of churches and send Christians ‘home’ to Israel because of the actions of a few unhinged people? Of course not, many people would chorus. OK, fair enough but why does this response change in response to the argument regarding Islam?

Just think about it.

Over and out, I’ve had enough of ranting for one day.

So just what is wrong with Britain?

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 14:31:00 +0100

The sun’s glorious rays beating down on parks, gardens and streets across the UK, places that are currently brimming with frolicking dogs, flying Frisbees and sun-cream lathered people cannot not mask the one fundamental fact that we all know; that there is something incredibly wrong with this country. The UK, quite simply, is rotting from the inside out. The gradual downfall of this once-powerful nation has nothing to do with so-called ‘immigrants’ as many ignorant people claim but instead, it is a product of the relationship between the government and its people. This relationship is flawed because it is lacking in one thing: trust.

I always felt there was something amiss over the years as I read the national newspapers and watched the BBC News. Britons were notorious for their appalling, violent behavior in other countries whilst other holidaymakers, peaceful in their sipping of a single pint of beer, looked on in horror and disgust. Countless young people died after a night of partying on a concoction of ecstasy, heroin and coke. People of all ages corroded their livers with the help of the kind bottle who made their problems go away (the approximate cost of the prescription drugs used to treat these people was £2.49 million in 2011, a figure that is steadily increasing as the years progress)…and all the while, the government was slowly reining in its citizens’ freedom and rights. To say that we are a democracy is a joke. Can you see the link between the wrongs of the country and the government’s disturbing amount of control over the freedom of our own minds and bodies? I couldn’t either…that was until I visited Germany’s capital, Berlin, last week. Suddenly, it became clear. Too clear, you could say, for now I want to simply get out of this damned nation.

The difference between Germany and the UK is quite simple. I don’t profess to be an expert on German politics. In fact, I know nothing about it but I can safely say that the difference is that the government trust their people a damn sight more than the UK trusts theirs’. The German government allows people to consume alcohol in the streets…out of glass bottles! And how do the German people repay this trust? By not bottling people. The German government also allows cigarettes to be sold from vending machines in the street and in restaurants. Sure, they place warnings on the packets but they understand that ultimately, people should be in control of their own bodies and because of this, they allow the very public selling of these tobacco products because they know that allowing people to make an educated and informed decision is far better than taking away their rights and hiding cigarettes or even banning them. Graffiti too, although not strictly legal in most places, is simply accepted. The government allows artistic freedom and the German people have repaid this level of trust and freedom by turning the city into the “the graffiti Mecca of the urban art world.” as the art critic Emilie Trice once said. The respect for the government is shown by the fact that the government buildings are in no way blemished or tarnished and by the crucial observation that the security is minimum at these places in comparison with 10 Downing Street here in the UK.

It sounds a lot different to here in Britain, doesn’t it? And as I said before, it’s all because there is huge lacking in trust between the British government and the citizens of the country. The government mollycoddle us, enforcing laws that limit our freedom to make our own choices; the law prohibiting the displaying of cigarettes and tobacco in shops and the law enforcing a minimum cost on alcohol are fine examples of this. I’m not saying that this is the only country that this happens in, of course not. I know that many countries have it far worse but the point that I’m trying to make is that because the government perceives its people as stupid and incapable of making their own decisions in regards to their own health and lives, people act out. It’s an example of reverse psychology. The government tries to stop people from drinking and smoking so naturally, people want to do these things because it gives the government they despise so much the middle finger and also gives them a thrill because they know that it is frowned upon. If the government simply trusted its nation, people would respect that a lot more and a lot of the problems plaguing this country would gradually cease.

That’s just my opinion anyway.

Life lessons

Wed, 29 May 2013 20:48:49 +0100

I’ve been used

And consequently,

My soul has been de-fused

The veil of innocence

Through which I saw the world

Has been a life-long inconvenience

Shrouding the true nature

Of this cruel, cruel world

My heart is broken

But I must pick up the pieces

And remember that, within me,

Strength has been awoken.

We are a controlled society; a ‘nanny’ state as my...

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 12:15:00 +0100

We are a controlled society; a ‘nanny’ state as my grandmother calls it.

No matter where we are born or to whom or in what circumstances, ultimately we are all born equal. We all have a beating heart, we all have muscle and flesh covering our bones and we all have hopes, dreams and desires for ourselves and our family and friends. Yet, looking around us, this doesn’t actually appear to be the case, does it? Our nation calls itself a democracy but how much say do we actually have? The government have imposed a Bedroom Tax upon anybody with an unoccupied bedroom which will severely affect those barely surviving off their already low income; the university tuition fees rose to a staggering £9,000 despite numerous protests across the country; good, honest people who have worked everyday of their healthy lives are now being termed as ‘scroungers’ and being denied their rightful benefits when they clearly are not fit to work…these cases are but to name a few. And yet a majority of us just sit back and allow this to happen. Sure, we hear about the so-called radicals and extremists on the TV but when you count their numbers and compare it to the population of Great Britain, it is but a small, insignificant number. So, why are we allowing this to happen?

I feel that the above image I found on the Facebook page ‘The Peoples’ Uprising’ gives us an interesting theory. Too many people these days sit glued to shows such as Keeping up with the Kardashians or The Only Way is Essex; they become so engrossed in the lives of wannabes who rise to fame through their sex tapes that they fail to see the real life that is happening around them. They don’t think to switch to the BBC News channel to catch the 6 o’clock news and this is why they miss major events occurring within their town, city and country and ultimately, why they fail to speak up. They can’t speak up against what they feel is wrong on the government’s part because they don’t see it to know that it’s wrong in the first place. Could it be that the reality shows polluting our TV screens and peers’ minds are part of a government ploy to maintain their control over the masses? I’m not accusing the government of a mass coverup but it’s an interesting idea to consider.

The same can also be said for the numerous music channels that churn out the same modern ‘music’ by artists such as One Direction and The Saturdays. There’s no variation; it always seems to be the same bands and artists playing. Could it be that the government are attempting to brainwash us into sharing very similar ideas? If One Direction and The Only Way is Essex is all people are exposed to, then they essentially become clones of one another, all liking the same song or all crushing on the same foul-mouthed, over-tanned ‘man’. This means that if everybody shares the same ideas and values then no new, fresh ideas, ideas that could change the world, can be born.

It would foolish to say that we are just controlled by the media and the government though. A lot of us are controlled by religious leaders. Some religious leaders, particularly within Christianity, scare their followers saying that if they don’t do this and that, then they will go straight to what is known as ‘Hell’ upon dying. These people, not knowing what follows death, allow their fear of the unknown get the better of them and when their leaders offer them redemption in the form of following their strict rules, they take it gladly. An example of this can be seen with Mother Theresa. A lot of people perceive her as evil as opposed to saintly. In Africa, she preached her values and beliefs to the natives, condemning the use of condoms and their ‘ungodliness’ in preventing life. Because of this, the HIV virus spread like wildfire causing needless suffering and death.

We are all born equal though, no matter what anyone says. We are all born with the power to change the world and it’s about time we used this power.

Bonnie Tyler chosen to represent the UK at the Eurovision competition

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 08:41:19 +0000

Bonnie Tyler chosen to represent the UK at the Eurovision competition:

You know you’ve reached the end of your career when you’re relegated to the Eurovision competition, a competition that the UK infamously never wins (remember last year where we finished second from last with 12 points?)

I find that songs sang at this competition are painfully cheesy and laughable in their lyrics and the dance moves that accompany them. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good entertainment but it’d be nice if it was a serious music competition, one that heralded new talent and produced new classics that people will still be singing along to in 30 years time.

Who knows though, I might be pleasantly surprised this time.

I doubt it though.

Birds

Wed, 06 Mar 2013 09:37:50 +0000

I wish I were a bird

High up in the trees

One step closer to Heaven

Than I am in this Hell

I’d spend my days

Flying wherever I liked

Without the worry of

Gathering enough change

For a bus or train fare

And I’d spend my evenings

In my tree

Carefree and content

Hopping from branch to branch

Staring up at the star-spattered canvas

That would be my only blanket

I wish I were a bird

High up in the trees

Away from humanity.

Rude awakening

Wed, 27 Feb 2013 09:22:44 +0000

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my…bloody bedroom window.

With a groan, I rolled over, bathed in the morning light made grey by my grubby white blinds. The tapping continued, seemingly becoming more and more impatient. I heaved myself from the cloud-like mass of duvet and padded across to the window.

I grabbed the blind’s chord and pulled it up as thought it were a stage curtain set to reveal a glorious spring day with cloudless skies and vibrant daffodils bobbing their heads in the breeze, wafting their delicate scent across the garden.

Instead, a short scream escaped my throat. A huge crow was perched on my windowsill. It eyed me inquisitively before going back to tapping at the nooks and crannies around the window pane. Evidently, it was trying to find some food; perhaps a worm seeking shelter from the harsh morning frost.

As I reached forward to open the window, the crow fluttered away, melting in to the bright winter sun. I headed to my desk and grabbed the pack of suet balls I’d bought from Tesco the week before. Opening the window, the air grasped me in its chilly embrace, making my bare arms tingle as goose bumps materialised. I threw a single suet ball and watched as it descended into a sea of glittering white. Patches of snow dotted the beer-bottled covered wasteland that is our garden and I watched as magpies, thrushes and the odd crow pecked sadly at the ground, trying to uncover the non-existent food that hid beneath.

It was as though my eyes had suddenly been opened. The crow had been a winged messenger, informing me of his friends’ desperate plight. These birds were nearing starvation in these harsh conditions and just because they are smaller than us humans and speak in a language that we cannot yet understand doesn’t mean that their lives are any less important.

I hurriedly got dressed and grabbed my purse, my heart set on buying Tescos’ entire stock of bird feed. In the end, my student loans didn’t quite cover the entire stock but after this rude awakening, I feel that every single one of us has a responsibility towards the wildlife that makes this country so beautiful and breath-taking.

Even if you can’t afford bird feed, I encourage you to leave out water-soaked fragments of bread. It’s better than nothing and will help the wildlife thrive another winter.

My new career

Mon, 25 Feb 2013 21:40:44 +0000

Back in November, I set up a website and a Facebook group on which I offer angel oracle card readings. I understand that spirituality isn’t everybody’s cup of tea and I respect that (as long as you respect my own beliefs). The world of angel readers is filled to the brim with incredibly gifted people so I initially didn’t think that my site or page would receive many hits. How wrong I was.

A mere three months on, my site has reached just over 830 views and I have been inundated with reading requests. A majority of my readings have received extremely positive feedback and some of the comments I have received have been heart-warming and humbling. Someone, over the festive period, described me as their “angel”. All of my readings are free and some people have said that I should charge for my services. But you know what? Comments such as the “angel” one and the knowledge that I am genuinely guiding people and helping them to heal emotionally is all the payment that I need.

I might not receive any money for this but the rewards that I have reaped, such as meeting some amazing people, far outweigh this and I sincerely hope that it is something I can continue and develop for many years to come!

Who am I?

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 21:41:00 +0000

The past few months have been difficult. I haven’t felt like myself for a number of reasons, the main reason being that I’m finding my studies quite difficult. Not difficult in a Oh-my-God-I’m-so-fucking-dumb-and-cannot-do-this-degree kind of way…sure, the work’s easy enough. Write a poem, write a story, over analyse a book and inject false meaning into it simply to justify having it on the syllabus (surely “It’s a good read” is reason enough)…all of that I can do. I just find this so draining though. Reading and writing are things that I have dedicated almost two thirds of my life to. Life hasn’t always been great (but this isn’t a sob story; no one’s life is perfect and you’d be a liar if you claimed otherwise) and without my books, notepads and pens, I would’ve gone insane. They enabled me to escape the stresses and strains of everyday life. If my nan ever nagged me for not tidying my bedroom, it’d be no problem. I’d go into my room, grab a book and escape to a different world and meet fascinating, intriguing characters.

So, naturally, I decided to pursue my passions and applied to study for a degree in English and Creative Writing. The first year went smoothly, albeit for the odd hiccup. I made brilliant friends, I became independent, I had my own money…life was brilliant! Until my second year. Then things got serious.

Suddenly, my tutors treated me like their peer. They told me, writer-to-writer, what they really thought of my work. I’m a sensitive soul (I plaster a constant smile on my face but be warned, a raging hormone machine lurks beneath this veneer) and really take things to heart sometimes. Instead of thinking “Well, that’s OK. I know how to improve for the future.” I’d think “HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY WORK! I PUT AS MUCH BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS INTO THAT PIECE AS A NEW MOTHER PUTS INTO BIRTHING! INSULT MY WORK, INSULT ME! I GIVE UP! I’M A FAILURE RAH RAH RAH &!@%…” Yeah, you get the picture. A similar thing happened with the literature side of my degree. My essays would get comments such as “Focus more on the primary text. What do the blue curtains represent? They clearly represent the author’s deep depression…” Suddenly, I found myself disliking what I’d previously reveled in. I found reading a chore. I’d scan the words on the page, seeking a hidden meaning and when I couldn’t find one, a sense of failure would creep over me.

University was draining me. It was draining me of my essence…of who I was. I felt like an empty shell; I no longer enjoyed the only things I’d ever been any good at. Who was I now?

Christmas rolled along and I thought this would be my chance to read books that I’d chosen myself, write about things close to my heart and work on my novel. I was wrong. I was exhausted. Mentally at least. I looked at books and just couldn’t be arsed. I looked at my notebooks with fear, doubting my ability after a first semester comprised of negative comments. I drifted through those festive weeks, reading nothing but the odd newspaper and writing nothing but a mere shopping list or email. For those who aren’t writers, it might be difficult to understand but I was so low. I was questioning my identity and questioning whether or not I was on the right path. I felt lost, confused…I felt like a failure. I’d failed myself, I’d failed my family.

Over the past week, though, this has changed. My flatmate lent me a book and I devoured its contents within two days which is something that I haven’t done in months and today, a much-trusted tutor called me to discuss a piece of creative writing I’d submitted a couple of months ago and received rather negative feedback for. Having put my heart and soul into this piece, the grade it was awarded with disheartened me and I emailed my tutor, needing answers. Our conversation today was really uplifting, though. She recited the positive comments that had been scrawled over the piece, comments that I’d not seen through the blanket of anger and hurt that had suddenly engulfed me. She told me that the piece had potential, she recounted stories of times when she herself, a professional writer, had been disheartened by similar feedback. She told me that I’m “one of the stronger writers in my year”. These comments really cheered me up, to be honest. They gave me hope. They gave me confidence. I took her comments on board and I’ve decided that I’m not going to give up on my dreams of being a published writer. As soon as I’d hung up, I logged into my neglected blog and posted two pieces I had been working on and within half an hour, I’d received two positive comments.

Today has opened my eyes. University isn’t easy. It shouldn’t be easy. If it I swanned in knowing everything beforehand, what would be the point in going? I need to man up and learn from my mistakes. Mistakes are blessings in disguise because they make me a better writer and make me stronger.

Winter sunshine

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 08:32:37 +0000

Winter sunshine is deceptive.

I wake up in the morning to a slice of sunshine in the bed beside me…and groggily look at the gap in my curtain, confused and fearful of this strange light peaking through my window like a pervert. Can this be sunshine? Warm, golden, cheerful sunlight that hasn’t been seen by civilization for an eternity? OK, OK, I exaggerate slightly. Make that ‘Warm, golden, cheerful sunlight that hasn’t been seen by civilization for a couple of months’.

Throwing open the curtains, I gasp as I’m engulfed in its rays. My skin greedily laps up its warmth and my mood instantly lifts. This beam feels like God himself staring down at me…I am the chosen one! I am the Messiah!

I shake the sleep from my head and mooch into the kitchen. I eat breakfast whilst perched precariously on the narrow window ledge, basking like a snake in the desert. I close my eyes and glug a glass of tropical fruit juice, imagining myself to be on the balcony of an apartment in Spain or some other equally hot country. A police siren cuts through my day dream and opening my eyes, the illusion is broken by the overgrown weeds in the back garden, strewn with empty beer bottles and cigarette butts.

Having had my breakfast, I pull on a spaghetti-strapped vest top and a pair of daringly short shorts. I finish the look with my over-sized shades (which admittedly, I wear more for the ‘cool factor’) and skip down the stairs, the prospect of university no longer as daunting or depressing.

Taking a deep breath, I step outside, ready to be embraced by spring…

Fuck. It’s. So. Cold. Really fucking cold.

I run back upstairs and dive under my duvet. The sun is still lounging in my bed…I can almost hear its light, melodious voice singing to me.

Hahaaaaaa….foooooooled yooooooou!

I get up and shut the curtains. Fully this time. Forget the sunshine, today’s going to be spent nursing my crushed hopes.

Random zombie piece for a class at uni

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 08:11:53 +0000

We lie low in the ditch, our breath caught in our throats as the awkward shuffling cuts through autumnal leafy piles. Birds sing joyously in the tree tops, unaware of the danger that skulks beneath them; a danger far deadlier than any mere cat or fox.

Emmi bites her already-tattered lower lip beside me, her eyes wide as silent tears slice through the dirt on her face. A bubble of snot inflates with every slight, infrequent breath she takes. The lip biting is a technique she developed back when we were kids. It prevents her from audibly expressing her fear. It’s handy in an environment such as ours where fear incarnated lurks behind every tree, inside every abandoned house…in every place that we once felt safe.

I love angel tattoos I need to get my tattoo fund going...

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 11:08:17 +0000

I love angel tattoos

I need to get my tattoo fund going again…I have various ideas for my own angel tattoo but being the poor student that I am, it will have to remain imprinted on my mind as opposed to my skin for a while longer!

Volunteering in a Thai orphanage August 2013

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 16:22:19 +0000

Volunteering in a Thai orphanage August 2013:

In August 2013, I’m hoping to go to Thailand to volunteer for two weeks in an orphange in the Phang Nga province. The orphanage opened not too long after the tragic 2004 Tsunami in which a lot of the children whom the orhanage is home too lost parents or guardians. I felt drawn to this particular project for a number reasons. Firstly, I had a fantastic upbringing. I had warm food, I had new clothes when I needed them and I was brought up in a home surrounded by love and affection. I honestly do not know where I would be today without these and many other things. I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today! It makes me sad to think that not every child receives the same start in life and although the orphanage is a fantastic place, I still want to help contribute to these children’s lives. The orphanage depends on volunteers to run and sometimes, when there aren’t enough volunteers, the children have to help with tasks and I feel it is extremely important that children should be allowed to be children. Speaking as the older sister of a six year old boy and a four year old girl, children are fascinating people. Their perception of the world is profound and their excitement over what we consider small, trivial things is heart-warming and humbling. The longer this stage of life can be prolonged the better I feel, for both children and guardians alike.

The £590 that I have to pay towards the PoD charity goes towards the orphange, its upkeep, food and the children and their ammenities. I need additional costs for the flight and any additional money that I raise will go solely towards the charity. I hope to host various fund-raising events until next August and again, any additional money that comes from these will go straight towards the orphanage.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my plight. I really hope that you can help me make a difference to these children’s lives. For more information, please visit PoD’s official site at http://www.podvolunteer.org/Child-care-and-orph…

Thank you so much once again.

Jasmin

My latest radio show

Thu, 29 Nov 2012 09:24:09 +0000

My latest radio show:

Hello! I have my very own radio show called Just Ask Jazz. It’s a friendly show where you can receive honest, unbiased and confidential advice on just about anything as well as listening to some good music (well, mostly anyway! I sometimes have to go with what’s in the charts and stick to the playlist) Here’s the latest show which aired on Tuesday on Shock Radio, 5-6pm!

Diamond Tree

Wed, 28 Nov 2012 15:46:00 +0000

Unfortunately, Tumblr messes up the formatting. The poem’s meant to be in the shape of a tree. Still, looks like half a tree!

Enveloped

In cool, crisp air

Morning dew drops

Are preserved, encrusting the

Lone autumnal tree like a scattering

Of celestial tears. The pale sun bounces off them

Sending a myriad of rainbow beams in every direction

The drops glimmer and glisten enticingly, teasing and luring

The weak-willed

The tree shimmers

As though it were

Adorned in diamonds

It is a diamond tree

That thrives beyond

The window.

My new radio show

Tue, 20 Nov 2012 08:04:34 +0000

My new radio show:

I have an agony aunt show that airs on my university’s radio station, Shock Radio. If you’d like to listen, it’s on from 5-6pm UK time. Thank you!

Hurricane Sandy

Tue, 30 Oct 2012 09:40:00 +0000

On 22^nd October, a tropical storm developed in the West Caribbean Sea and by 24^th it was upgraded to hurricane status and dubbed Hurricane Sandy. It is the tenth hurricane of the 2012 Atlantic hurricane season and has so far devastated various areas of the Caribbean, including Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic and the Bahamas. A death toll of approximately 69 people in these poorer regions has so far been recorded and is set to rise as numerous individuals are still unaccounted for.

Hurricane Sandy has shifted from the Caribbean and has battered the East Coast of America, affecting public transport, air and rail services. Inbound and outbound flights from New York City have been grounded and officials have warned that flooding in lower Manhattan could have a severe impact upon the city’s underground electric and communication lines, as well as affecting the subway system that so many citizens depend on in their everyday lives. These citizens have been ordered to evacuate with President Obama being quoted as saying “Do not delay. Don’t pause. Don’t question the instructions that are being given, because this is a serious storm and it could potentially have fatal consequences.” It is thought that up to 3,000 citizens have reached 76 emergency shelters around the city. President Obama has signed nine emergency declarations, covering states such as New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

The hurricane, which has sustained winds of up to 85mph, was downgraded to a ‘post-tropical storm’ early evening on 29^th October. Officials, however, warn that it is still just as dangerous as it spans 800 miles and has joined forces with a northern blockage and a western storm system, thereby strengthening as it makes landfall and causing it to be dubbed a ‘Frankenstorm’.

It has been predicted that Hurricane Sandy will cause up to $20bn (£12.5bn) worth of damages and it is said that it is the deadliest storm that Northern America and the Caribbean have since Hurricane Katrina in 2005 which killed approximately 1, 800 people across the Caribbean and southern states of the USA.

Hellooooo. I've read some of your posts, they're cool. :) You've got some good things to say. :D

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 12:57:36 +0100

Aww thank you! I’m glad someone appreciates my ramblings :)

The e-reader vs. the book

Thu, 27 Sep 2012 12:45:30 +0100

Last year, I entered a flash fiction competition ran by my university. I set my piece in an era long gone but not forgotten; I set it in the trenches that littered World War One. To my surprise, I won this competition and I was bestowed with a Kindle e-reader.

Now, I love my Kindle as I have discovered great books that are unavailable in book shops and it proved handy when I went on holiday as I didn’t have to pack five thick novels into my suitcase. However, I much prefer physical books. Yes, e-readers are practical but they’re so cold and characterless unlike an old book which will have torn, stained pages and a creased spine, physical memories of readers who caressed their eager fingers over its body like a lover.

Feelings of awe created in libraries and book shops when one is surrounded by so much creativity and knowledge cannot be replicated by an electronic device kept in the top drawer of a bedside cabinet. Feelings of pride when you realise that you are about to become a small part of a second, third or fourth hand book’s history when you trace your fingers against an unknown grubby fingerprint cannot be replicated by a clean, metallic and unscratched e-reader.

In a nutshell, books, though they’re more expensive and take up more space, are better. Kindles are practical as I have stated previously but like my flash fiction piece, remember that although books are from an era long gone, they have not been forgotten and libraries and book shops are proof of this…so support these places and buy a book!