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Whilst I’ve been working on my manuscript, I have also found time to draw some of my characters.

Below I’ve posted Empress Aruna. She is the wife of my MC, Emperor Stefan. At the moment she is just a minor character, but her decisions greatly affect Stefan later in the novel, especially since she is Queen to  her own kingdom of Arsinia.

 

Empress Aruna WIP
Empress Aruna WIP
Empress Aruna displaying her sheut (shadow) magick
Empress Aruna displaying her sheut (shadow) magick

 

Cartoon portrait of Empress Aruna
Cartoon portrait of Empress Aruna
supergirl
Melissa Benoist as Kara Zor-El/ Supergirl

 

Anyone who is anyone has seen, or at least heard of CBS’s “Supergirl” TV show which will arrive this Autumn. When I first heard that the former “Glee” star, Melissa Benoist would be playing the titular Supergirl, I had high hopes. She managed to portray a vulnerable, yet strong character, Marley Rose, who suffered from an eating disorder and low self-esteem. Jokingly, I also thought perhaps Supergirl could also break out into song. Stranger things have happened.

But then I finally saw the trailer and I was so very disappointed. I am not well-versed in Supergirl’s story. Truth be told, the entire House of El put me off, including Supergirl’s alternate reality version, Power Girl, made popular by her infamous “boob window” which sparks many debates. They are just too powerful, and generally my definition of Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu like characters. But that’s not to say they can’t be revamped a bit. I quite enjoyed “Man of Steel” and the problems Superman had to face to protect Earth from Zod, being as he was the only other Kryptonian he knew.

But back to Supergirl. If you haven’t already seen the aforementioned trailer, here it is below:

 

The trailer starts in the most cliched way imaginable. An origin tale. Kara’s origin is pretty much the same as Superman’s, and she too was shipped off to earth in a space pod before the eventual destruction of Krypton. Why didn’t her parents build a larger pod for all three of them to escape? I guess we’ll never know.

Years later and Kara is living a “normal” life as the assistant to a CEO of a media company. It’s all a bit “The Devil Wears Prada”, accentuated by Kara doing the long walk through the city to get coffee for her boss. The dull grey on her surroundings really makes her pink pencil skirt pop and it is my firm belief that this is just one of the subtle ways the trailer goes about reminding the audience that this show is a show for girls, about a girl. The very first problem we are introduced to is boy trouble, with a colleague asking Kara on a date. Later in the trailer, he wonders why she doesn’t seem all that into him and asks if she is gay. If I had been in her position I would have told him to hold up just a minute. I can’t abide by guys who think that the only reason a woman isn’t interested in them is if they are gay. Kara should have set him straight. It’s perfectly fine for the show to raise this sort of social issue, but only if the culprit is going to be called out on their bullsh*t and corrected. But Kara politely tells him that she isn’t gay, as if she has no right to be offended by the question.

Then there are just basic plot points like the plane crash. Why was this plane headed towards the city? In the even of an emergency, the pilots would have been directed towards the nearest river or something. It shouldn’t be circling the city. Could you imagine the calamities?

Another issue here is the infantilisation of Supergirl. Just the name on it’s own riles me up. Whilst in the comics she appears to be younger than Superman, it has been mentioned that she left Krypton as a child, but not as a baby, and she is in fact the older cousin. In regards to the TV, Kara does bring up that she believes that Supergirl should be called “Superwoman”, and I have to commend her for that. This however does not stop her from flying around in a red skirt, as opposed to a full body jump suit, or even trousers just in general. I don’t want to slut shame a fellow woman but the short skirt is reminscent of school skirts, which brings me back to the infantilisation part. Another problem I have is that when Kara does address the “Superwoman” title, her boss tells her that she thinks “Supergirl” is a great name and that if she doesn’t like it, then she is the one with the problem. A friend of mine described this as “internalised misogyny”. Men are often celebrated for their masculinity and are often encouraged into “manhood”. Women have a very different problem, where femininity is infantilised, and as the article by Allen O’Brien I’ve linked states is “a phenomenon in which which our society systemically equates femininity with things like vulnerability, submission, uncertainty, and childhood.”

Even the music sounds like it is for a cliched rom-com. Compare it to the trailers of male superheroes like Green Lantern and Flash and you will see what I mean. Green Lantern has a far more epic soundtrack, “Entrapment” by Groove Addicts. Of course I don’t expect the soundtrack to a TV show to be anywhere as awesome as Guardians of the Galaxy, but even the Flash–which followed a similar extended trailer structure to Supergirl– had a far more epic tone. He was shown kicking serious ass for more than just the final moments of the trailer. He had far humbler beginnings, whereas honestly, Kara had far longer to hone her superpower skills.

Even towards the end of the trailer when she is standing up to the head of the operations for the extra-normal division and kicking ass, the music sounds cheesy, singing “this is my fight…”, as though we need confirmation that Supergirl is powerful. It plays off of the rom-com, coming of age vibe, as though she is a teenager emerging from her chrysalis. In my opinion it is another subtle way of infantilising her. When they tried to shut her down, preventing her from helping them, Supergirl basically went off in a sulk and cried. She cried. There’s nothing wrong with tears, dear, but you’re a Kryptonian. They couldn’t have stopped if they tried. The tone was all wrong. She should have been outraged. The angst was not needed. It was very “Mean Girls”. They wouldn’t let her sit at the popular table.

You can't sit with us GIF

So the summation of my opinion of the Supergirl trailer is that it is a false empowerment of female superheroes. I have every intention to watch the pilot episode and keep up with the news in the hopes that Kara Zor-El grows as a character, but I have little hope that she will.

 

All year round, she sang her songs. Some of woes and some of mirth. Through her songs I saw a truth. A truth I simply could not deny.

Winter’s grip was tight as iron. Merciless and unforgiving. But this young girl was not deterred. Unassuaged from my lake.

Through the bitter chill, she saw its beauty. She trudged through snow and walked through sleet. In icy cold, she sang her song. Lilting melodies much too sweet. Much too calm whilst bound by Beira.

Just this once I’d play along. Flute in hand I’d add this timbre. So by my rock I sat and played, watching my girl from a distance. In an instance she would hear.

Oh, but she stopped a while to look around, her bright emerald eyes full of wonder. Her cute open mouth akin to a guppy.

“Who is there?” she cried out. Unremitting, my tune went on. My one and only answer. Were she The One, she would understand.

I allowed a moment of silence before I changed the song. A plume of mist escaped her mouth as she huffed impatiently. As I played my haunting piece, her furrowed brows softened and a shy smile gave way. She took a seat on the snowy blanket. Immersed by the chilling trills, she closed her eyes. So serene she might have been a meditating monk.

I arose from my rock and stepped on the icy lake; the thin sheet fragile as a babe. My nimble feet glided quickly across as the ice cracked beneath me. Relief washed over me when my bare feet stepped on frigid snow. As I turned around I saw that my lake was a fractured beauty— the waters peaking beneath broken shards of ice. Not once had I allowed my melody to stop.

As I approached my girl I allowed a pause. A moment just to appreciate her beauty. Her hair was dark as the depthless seas, her ruddy cheeks in contrast, glowing. My webbed fingers stroked her cold, soft cheek as my eyes consumed her long dark lashes and angular face. She shivered from the contact but did not open her eyes. She could not and she would not— my song had ensured that.

“Who are you?” she asked. More probing questions. Gaps of knowledge to be filled. Could she not hear the truth as I did?

I brought my flute back to my lips, continued where I left off. Calmness returned upon her, smoothing crinkles on her face. She would remember. She must remember.

She rose to her feet, singing the song she had heard many years before.

 

Glittering lake, giver of life;

                A gate to a world you cannot fathom,

                Pure perfection, splendorous.

                There the woes are nevermore.

 

On she went with her song. As I stepped back, she came along. Blindly did she follow, not a worry did she show. As my feet touched ice, a web of cracks did appear. Eyes still closed, my girl placed her feet on that path. Lithely she followed with her dainty feet, careful to avoid the ever-cracking web. How foolish I was to tempt Beira’s cruel nature.

A bright crack tore through the ice, cutting my melody short in my throat. Only could I watch as the cursed ice cracked slowly beneath her feet. Eyes flung open, did her orbs shine—glisten— till my heart smashed, broken, as she sunk into the lake.

For but a moment was I numb, as shards of pain pierced my heart. The absence of her voice forced me to regain willpower, and I flung into the lake.

She was a fallen angel, sinking deep into the abyss. Her ivory hand stretched out to me as her body sank and I grabbed for her, so sure that I could save her.

A high pitched cackle grated through the murky lake and I truly knew that all was lost. I had loved and lost, and damned this dear child also.

The girl pleaded with her eyes at me but she was passed the point of saving and I was all too far from redemption. So I sang a lament for her. I put all the fragments of my soul in it, and hoped for such thing as a heaven for her even as my throat burned with the need to wail my woes. I sang through the cackle, knowing this revenge was that bitter woman’s triumph over me.

And my girl sank, so too with the remaining fragments of my soul.

The end of a life was a natural thing. Yet, how natural could it have been for I, a father, to have slain a daughter?

Wretched thing that I was, I meant to take her with me. Wicked thing that I am, I must be with her.

But soulless as I am, I have no place in her afterlife. And so the divide goes on and on, with only the shadow of a melody to remember her by.

Note: This is an old post from my old blog

I’m roughly in the final quarter of my third draft (which might as well be a first because it is a complete re-write) and I’ve reread some of my stuff and I’ve noticed a bunch of inconsistencies. This brought me to wondering about plot holes and this is what I have found out during my search.

But what is a plot hole? A plot hole can be an inconsistency in your novel, or an unanswered question of sorts that isn’t done on purpose as some sort of cliffhanger. Here are other ways of finding out if you have a plot hole:

  Unaccounted for characters & Subplots

 A well-liked, or particular quirky character goes off on a subplot mission. We never hear from them again. In some cases, this can be okay. In reality things do not always go according to plan. In the world of fiction, however, things can be smoothed out better. It might be okay to leave the character to dissapear somewhere. Maybe they die on their mission. Maybe they lose communication. But you need to at least mention them at some point so we know their status. Subplots are sometimes used to parallel with the main plot, or more often than not, it is a romantic subplot. In a romance novel, however, the romance is the main plot, and the subplot might be anything from a mystery to a work related problem the main character is having. Whatever a subplot may be, it ought to be

Small part characters like fellow classmates or co-workers your main character is not friends with don’t matter so much. I really don’t need to know how the day went for the pizza delivery guy.

Unaccounted main characters, however, are even worse that supporting characters. Your readers have invested a lot of time and emotions into them, so they deserve to know what became of them.

Unexplained Motivations

When creating a multifaceted character, contradictions may occur. People do not always participate in activities they believe in. For instance, if your character is subjected to peer pressure, they may be persuaded to do something like drinking alcohol when in actual fact they may have religious or other personal reasons to be against drinking. 

A plot hole occurs when a character does something out of character that is then left unexplained. You may have a villain who decides to blow up a building ‘for the evulz’ and leave it at that. So long as his future actions are consistent with his character, this is fine. He may go on to commit a string of crimes ‘for the Evulz’. You cannot, however, have a villain with a sound, well thought out plan, who decides he wants to take over a multi-millionaire company decide to blow up a building ‘for the evulz’ and just leave it at that. Your readers can’t suspend their sense of disbelief enough to allow something like this. 

So to round that off, make sure that your characters are motivated enough to do the things that they do, and you take the time to explain it at some point, or else it will come across as just random.   

 Rules of Logic 

Fiction means that the events in the novel never really happened. This does not however allow you to throw out all the rules of logic. Sure, you can rethink the laws of gravity, or even the laws of time and space as we know it. But they must have some sort of logic. In fantasy novels, there is usually some sort of Magic System. This Magic System may not be explored thoroughly – it all depends on how much your main characters interact with said magic – but you should have some sort of logic in mind. Magic always comes with a price. 

But what if your novel doesn’t use magic? Well, there are still bound to be some kind of rules. If the novel is set during a particular period, it ought to follow many of the conventions. If for some reason it does not at some point, your reader needs to know why. 

I’ve been exploring with poetry lately and I happened upon a new way of writing. I have dubbed it Glitch Poetry because my first attempt happened accidentally as a result of a technological fault. Not only has the name stuck with me, but so too has it’s method of writing.

http://static.wixstatic.com/media/21e8ac_349a376eb2043acaa87bd93c0ae4e3ba.gif_srz_935_670_85_22_0.50_1.20_0.00_gif_srz

But how did I happen about it, you wonder? I attempted to dictate to my microphone using Dragon Dictation whilst I was in the living room. My housemates came in, continuing a conversation and the microphone picked it up and messed up my story. But the end result was a very strange, abstract sort of poem.

Here is a taste of my writing…

 

Who will serve glitch poetry?

That doesn’t want to be that what is,

These words bring the further and further and further.

I am the sample,

We will cruise-ship your idea about,

No control panel system,

Only evidence is there.

I want the latter. Must squint for locator.

Bartholomew is a strange one. In fact he’s so strange that he has a very common name but has requested to be called Bartholomew in all future blog accounts of my time here at uni.
Then there’s Alfred. He literally aspires to become Alfred from the Batman comics. Go figure.
My other housemates are only just a little bit more normal… I lie. They aren’t normal. Not even a bit.
But we get on for the most part and that’s what counts.
But what do you do with housemates you can’t get along with?
Here’s my advice…

If you can’t beat them, join them.
Try getting to know them. My housemates last year like to pull pranks every now and again and sometimes it was just easier pretending to laugh it off. But sometimes it wasn’t;

Tell them how you feel.

Just be honest, and let it go.
Just be honest, and let it go.

I find this pretty challenging, or at least face to face, because I really like to be liked. I can be loud and I may even seem aggressive at times, but that’s only how I act with my good friends. I try to play it safe with other people and I try to avoid conflict. But sometimes you can’t do that. Bottling up your emotions is never a good idea because then you’ll get a weird Elsa Complex and then you’ll have to Let It Go and since you don’t have the voice of Idina Menzel, that won’t end well for ANYONE.

So I strongly advice messaging your housemates if you can’t communicate verbally with them coherently. Via text or via Facebook. Whatever works. Just let your voice be heard before you get really aggravated.

fuckitall

 

 

 

 

 

Make a cleaning rota.
… or do communal cleans when everyone is available.

Oh... How I despise cleaning.
Oh… How I despise cleaning.

Share communal costs to things like kitchen equipment.

Money-GIF

Socialise together every now and again.

If the Avengers have time to socialise after saving the world, I'm sure you can too.
If the Avengers have time to socialise after saving the world, I’m sure you can too.

But for those of  you get saddled with the crazies, you may want to consider asking the university for new housing.

Note: This is an old post from my previous blog, dated 27/09/14

A house isn’t a home until you’ve made a bit of a mess of it. That’s what I told myself when I moved in on the 17th to stop me from whining so much as I mopped up the spilt decaf coffee on the floor. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but when a thunderstorm came over the night after I had just moved into Canterbury, I realised I didn’t have a Thunder Buddy. I was the only one who’d moved into the house. So I’m pretty sure the storm wasn’t at all intimidated when I sang the Thunder Song on my own.

By the 20th, Housemate 1 moved in. Housemate 2 followed a few days after.

So there I am on the 24th in the living room, writing this blog post on my laptop because a certain level of calm and happiness has emanated throughout my cynical facade.

I sit in companionable silence with two of my housemates in our living room. There is a distinct emptiness opposite me where the television would be, if we could afford one.

Housemate 1’s laptop purrs like a possessed cat as she goes about her business playing a game whilst Housemate 2 chews loudly on an apple, reading manga on her phone. Every now and then 1 and me burst into song, whilst 2 probably wonders why we’re so crazy. Not that she’s much more normal. And though we have no WiFi and no television, I think we’re pretty happy. (Yes, you can be happy without WiFi, it just doesn’t last very long!)

Every house or flat has it’s own dynamic. Let’s call Housemate 1 Hannah so she doesn’t strangle me in the middle of the night for deformation of character. Hannah is like the Mum of the house, and Housemate 2— let’s call her Suze— she’s like the younger sister. Not because she’s actually younger— even though she is— but because she got lost trying to get back home from uni today and Hannah had to get her. Hannah was joking that Suze was a troublesome daughter.

Fresher Year is great because you get to be introduced to such a variety of different people for the first time in your life, from all sorts of backgrounds. But lets face it, who you end up sharing Halls or a house on campus with is pretty much like the lottery. You just don’t stand a chance of winning.

I had reasonable housemates last year, and at first they were quite easy to get along with. Then two dropped out, a fire occurred and we got two new housemates. They. Changed. Everything. 

A casual threat left outside my room

They were real pranksters for sure, and a bit too open about their sexual lives than I was comfortable with. But they were funny and sarcastic and I think the whole experience really taught me something. They taught me not to tell strangers you live with that write novels or they will forever attempt to steal your notebooks.

But Fresher Year is in the past and I am now a slightly more experienced Second Year. (Sorry, Americans. We don’t do that whole “Sophomore”, “Junior”, “Senior” thing that you do. It is literally just First Year through to Third Year for most courses.) One of the greatest perks of Second Year is choosing housemates and I think I may have just won the lottery.

And even if something changes, at least with a double bed in my room I know no one will be bothered enough to move it to the kitchen this year as a prank.

The housemates you choose to live with can just be people who you were willing enough to share the cost of a decent house. At one point last year I thought I would be happy if I never had to interact with my housemates again. But I can’t deal with that kind of isolation. Hopefully your housemates will become like the family you actually chose. You can sit in a room eating dinner whilst ignoring each other on your laptops and smartphones, just like your real parental units at home.

In other news, Housemate 5 moved in today and brought a board of Scrabble. Why must he tear apart this fragile family unit with his boring competitive game?

 

 

Chicken.

chickent_meal
Yummy in my tummy…

You heard me. Chicken makes all the pain go away. But seriously, I’ve had the most stressful three weeks recently. Last week wasn’t so bad. Things began to settle I think. But obviously not because of chicken. Alright, chicken helped, but it wasn’t the only factor.

It’s very true that the first step in solving a problem is admitting that you have one.  Feel free to ask for help. If you’re ill, you should probably see a doctor. If you have problems with an assignment, ask a friend. You need money? Get a job. (I know, helpful advice here, right?)

And I did this time and time again. I talked to my parents and I tried talking to my academic advisor. But the thing they don’t tell you about the Uni Life is that you really have to deal with your own problems. Back at high school you had your parents there to tell you what was best but when you start university, you are thrust into the real world. (Okay, actually the uni life is it’s own world. It’s sort of half real, and half a drunken mess for most people). If you don’t attend lectures you won’t be in any real trouble unless if maybe your scholarship depends on a high attendance rate. But you still very much have to deal with the consequences of your own actions.

So how do you get all your assignments done, have time for societies, reading for leisure, writing those several novels you can’t seem to finish, Keep up with the Marvel Universe (dude, they have TWO different versions of Quicksilver) and a whole bunch of other fandoms, maintain a normal sleeping pattern and figure out what you are going to do with the rest of your life as you know it?

Quicksilver
Quicksilver in Days of Future Past
Avenger's Quicksilver
The Avenger’s: Age of Ultron version of Quicksilver

 

The simple answer is you don’t. You can’t do everything. Not by your own strength, and I think knowing that is a real help. You have to be realistic about what you can and can’t do and you have to be willing to ask for help when you need it. Obviously you may not always get it. Some of my friends have useless academic advisors, or they find that one person’s method of coping may not work for them. I’ve known friends to stay up all night with lots of caffeine to finish assignments. That doesn’t work for me. I can’t work after 2am and that’s my limit.

So…

Number 1: Know that you can’t do everything, but that you should always try your hardest and ask help when you need to.

Number 2: Know your limits. But also push yourself sometimes. That may sound a bit confusing but there are times when maybe you’re just being lazy and you really can force another hour or two work out. Then there are times when you’re just really ill or out of it for some reason and a break will do you some good. I can’t tell you your limits. People pay therapists to help work through their problems. I’m not qualified but I can tell you that no one can rule your life.

Number 3: Figure out a reward or penalty system. This is where chicken comes in for me. If I complete a specified amount of time for a piece of work, I’ll reward myself with chocolate. Or more likely, chicken. When I’m on campus in the evening I can force myself to finish my work because I know chicken is waiting at home. But what if this doesn’t work for you, and you would rather take the reward but not do the assignment? This is where an enforcer might be beneficial. Choose a trusted friend to withdraw said reward if you haven’t completed your work. For others, a penalty system may work better but I just find it doesn’t give me any motivation.

cupcake
Cupcakes can be a great motivator 🙂

But this post was meant to tell you about how to deal with stress…

Well, I can’t really say for sure. I’m still learning as I go. There are huge self-help books on this topic and it’s hard for me to say what’s best. I can however tell you what not to do:

  1. Don’t leave work to the last minute
  2. If you’re religious, don’t use work as an excuse not to worship your God or god or gods. If you believe in any kind of spiritual englightenment then you should listen to the teachings of your faith and make time for your worship. It’ll really help bring balance into your life. If you’re not religious, or if you’re a strong atheist, ignore said advice.
  3. Don’t pull regular all-nighters. It may seem that you’re very dedicated to your studies if you do this but there are health risks to staying up night and consuming lots of caffeine. It’s understandable and almost inevitable to do this when you have deadlines, but if you’re doing this frequently then it means you may need to be better organised.
  4. Don’t focus 100% on the course. A university course shouldn’t define you. You should define the course. (Wow… that sounded less cheesy in my head). Make time for extra things outside of studies. Join a society. Get a new hobby. Start a business. Do SOMETHING. Employers are going to want to know you are well rounded.
  5. Don’t eat junk food and sit on your ass all day. I can’t stress the importance of a healthy diet. Too many students eat junk. It’s take-away after take-away, after drunken nights celebrating. Eat your fruit & veg and go to the gym. Or go for a run if you prefer the outdoors. Learn a martial arts or go swimming. Just stay active. Because in those times even when you think you have no time and you’re really tired… that’s when you probably need the gym the most. I have a friend who goes to the gym Every. Single. Day. It’s his church. That’s probably excessive but you get what I mean. Staying fit is important and it releases all those feel-good hormones and stuff.

I hope that covered most of the ways to deal with stress and how to keep on top of things. Let me know if you have any questions and I do hope to update regularly.

 

Note: This is an old post I’m transferred from my old Blogger account

Summer holidays have always been encompassed by disappointing weather and dithering about whilst simultaneously attempting to convince myself that doing nothing for a whole month was what I really wanted. A longer holiday than usual might have been a dream come true for my former self, but now that I’ve experience the wonders of independecne from my parents, going back under their roof might as well have been purgatory.

At least I had Snapchat as a means of escapism.

picture of me

A third year Computer Science friend of mine, recently graduated, told me that I’d want to pull out my own hair within two weeks. He was wrong. I want to pull out my little sister’s hair within only a few days.

Mind you, I didn’t do absolutley nothing during the holiday. I participated in CampNaNo in July and “won” after writing 35,000 words; secured a voluntary job in August and went to Bournemouth and Leeds Castle with my family; caught up with some old friends; and found a way to combine my love of CS and writing.

 tank

Family time is still important, regardless of age. My family went out on a weekend to Bournemouth. They were having some sort of celebration/ military fair type thing, hence the tank.

fireworks

Who doesn’t love a good firework display? Add a bit of live music and dinner at a restaraunt, and it made for a really good night with the family unit.

expensive Bournemouth housing

helicopter at bournemouth

So why the bitching? I missed the uni life.

They don’t warn you how much you will miss being at university. All your educational life, you’ve been counting down the days to summer. And why not? Most everybody else seems to have gone abroad, or to some other sort of trip. Whether it was Soul Survivor, the Duke of Edinburgh, or The Challenge, everyone else is having more fun than you. And if you never felt that way, then you were probably the rich bastard I was always jealous of.

The number one problem with parents is usually curfews. Now, granted that you actually have somewhere to be (I know I never did), this had different repercussions for different people. But once you’ve experienced the freedom of living away from parents, there really is no going back. It’s like trying to shove the toothpaste back in the tube. It ain’t happening.

Except it does. Slowly. But then the toothpaste is never the same again.

When I got back home I didn’t ask for permission to go out. I told them I was going out. (Unless I needed money from then, in which case, I needed to warn them further in advance.)

My parents never spoke to me about alcohol. It was an unspoken rule. Don’t drink. Ever. I was underage so they figured I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. Yeah, I’m just that boring. So when my friend called me at the last minute, asking if I wanted to go to the pub sometime in July, I wasn’t certain I’d be allowed, but I was 18, dammit! I was ready to hold my ground.

I don’t know if any of these restrictions apply to you, but I think we can all agree as young adults, that parents can be really boring and stuffy at times. My life had gone from society meetings and house parties to cooking dinner being the highlight of my day.

Don’t do what I did. Don’t wait forever to think up of alternative options for that summer job you applied to. Make something of your holiday. Something you can be proud to write on your CV, or even something you can just rememeber fondly– future employers be damned!

Summer holidays needn’t be a limbo state as you await the next year at uni. Get a job or start a new hobby. Further your studies in your own time. If you make something of it, it needn’t be a state of purgatory.

I’m just glad all the moaning about wanting to come back to uni was worth it.

They tell me Second Year is harder. I guess I’ll find out just how much harder it is.

 

 

A house isn’t a home until you’ve made a bit of a mess of it. That’s what I told myself when I moved in on the 17th to stop me from whining so much as I mopped up the spilt decaf coffee on the floor. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but when a thunderstorm came over the night after I had just moved into Canterbury, I realised I didn’t have a Thunder Buddy. I was the only one who’d moved into the house. So I’m pretty sure the storm wasn’t at all intimidated when I sang the Thunder Song on my own.

By the 20th, Housemate 1 moved in. Housemate 2 followed a few days after.

So there I am on the 24th in the living room, writing this blog post on my laptop because a certain level of calm and happiness has emanated throughout my cynical facade.


I sit in companionable silence with two of my housemates in our living room. There is a distinct emptiness opposite me where the television would be, if we could afford one.

Housemate 1’s laptop purrs like a possessed cat as she goes about her business playing a game whilst Housemate 2 chews loudly on an apple, reading manga on her phone. Every now and then 1 and me burst into song, whilst 2 probably wonders why we’re so crazy. Not that she’s much more normal. And though we have no WiFi and no television, I think we’re pretty happy. (Yes, you can be happy without WiFi, it just doesn’t last very long!)

Every house or flat has it’s own dynamic. Let’s call Housemate 1 Hannah so she doesn’t strangle me in the middle of the night for deformation of character. Hannah is like the Mum of the house, and Housemate 2— let’s call her Suze— she’s like the younger sister. Not because she’s actually younger— even though she is— but because she got lost trying to get back home from uni today and Hannah had to get her. Hannah was joking that Suze was a troublesome daughter.

Fresher Year is great because you get to be introduced to such a variety of different people for the first time in your life, from all sorts of backgrounds. But lets face it, who you end up sharing Halls or a house on campus with is pretty much like the lottery. You just don’t stand a chance of winning.

I had reasonable housemates last year, and at first they were quite easy to get along with. Then two dropped out, a fire occurred and we got two new housemates. They. Changed. Everything. 
A casual threat left outside my room

They were real pranksters for sure, and a bit too open about their sexual lives than I was comfortable with. But they were funny and sarcastic and I think the whole experience really taught me something. They taught me not to tell strangers you live with that write novels or they will forever attempt to steal your notebooks.

But Fresher Year is in the past and I am now a slightly more experienced Second Year. (Sorry, Americans. We don’t do that whole “Sophomore”, “Junior”, “Senior” thing that you do. It is literally just First Year through to Third Year for most courses.) One of the greatest perks of Second Year is choosing housemates and I think I may have just won the lottery.

And even if something changes, at least with a double bed in my room I know no one will be bothered enough to move it to the kitchen this year as a prank.

The housemates you choose to live with can just be people who you were willing enough to share the cost of a decent house. At one point last year I thought I would be happy if I never had to interact with my housemates again. But I can’t deal with that kind of isolation. Hopefully your housemates will become like the family you actually chose. You can sit in a room eating dinner whilst ignoring each other on your laptops and smartphones, just like your real parental units at home.

In other news, Housemate 5 moved in today and brought a board of Scrabble. Why must he tear apart this fragile family unit with his boring competitive game?


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