The Importance of Independence

Scottish Independence has been all over the news recently. Whether or not Scotland should remove itself from the Unions in Great Britain as we know it.

But the independence that I want to talk about today is one free of political intervention, protests and a public vote: our own independence. 

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I thought that I was pretty much independent when I was going through college. I knew that through my life I hadn't had such freedom. Mum had always asked for invitations if I wanted to go to a party - I couldn't go just because someone had told me. There were curfews for sleepovers and I still relied on my parents to pick me up after school activities. 

At college, though I was ferried to and from sixth form on a bus that stopped right outside my house, I felt a bit more in control of myself. I kind of just got on with studying. I felt quite independent but I realised that there was still a little more way to go before I was a proper adult. 

It's funny because, having been at uni has made me realise that I'm more of a child than I ever thought. 

Independence was a bit of a shocker. I've never felt like I've wanted to break away from my family. I've never felt like I've wanted to be alone and do things strictly by myself. I felt independent enough and wasn't ready to metaphorically sever ties.

But going to uni scared me. It appears that too much independence definitely makes you find yourself. I felt alone. Every choice I made was up to me. When did I get up? It didn't matter because it wouldn't affect anyone but me. If I wanted to skip lectures, then who would be on my back? No one, really. If I wanted to eat pot noodle all day every day (and I didn't) then I was free to do so.

Those kinds of menial decisions, however, soon took care of themselves. I went to lectures as a matter of principle, got myself out of bed to make life easier and ate as healthily as I could.

But the real test of my independence was the extra things. The things that didn't have to be done every day. And this was where I became disappointed and frustrated with myself in a way that I never thought I could have.

University has a lot of opportunity - an overwhelming amount, in fact. As we entered the 'bunfight' where all the societies had stalls trying to entice us with 'Ultimate Frisbee', men in teeny tiny speedos and cakes, it was hard to make an informed decision. I saw people saying: "Aw! Yeah sure I'll come to the Quidditch club tryouts!" I wanted to do something cool, as well. I wanted to get myself into a spectacular society.

Moving to England, I had quite forgotten how unappealing being outside can become. When it's raining and cold and windy, home seems so much nicer. I missed most of the tryouts and taster sessions through laziness and reluctance of the cold. I went to a few, like trampolining and became quite interested in Amnesty International society for a while, but I saw people around me solidifying friendships in the clubs that they were joining. They had put themselves out there and now were doing things that they loved.

All my life I had dreamed about: "When I'm older, I'll ..." and now I was older and every dream I had was just waiting for me to say 'yes' and I said: 'Nah I can't be bothered!'

And as clubbing became the highlight of my weeks, I began to question what I was actually doing with my life. I knew that before I could even register it, the year would be over and I would be one step closer to working and one step further away from realising my dreams.

The last term of 1st year I hauled myself into everything I could. I went out with my friends for coffees and ice-cream, went to a few socials that the societies that I had joined were hosting and blogged. I explored Southampton, wrote articles for the newspaper and planned upcoming material, I tried out the free gym classes, went to an AGM and got a position on a committee and ... I had a phenomenal time! The last term of university was my best. I felt like I finally had control of  my life.

For me, my independence could have gone a number of ways. It could most definitely have had me plan to do everything but actually do nothing. I got quite frugal with my money in that first year, wanting to save it all up for nothing in particular. What that meant was that I wasn't actually spending any. In hindsight, it did come in useful because it has given me a head start on my rent for next year which I am very, very happy about, but at the time, it meant that I refused to go out and became, in a sense, greedy and centred around the numbers in my account.

Already, I can see that the mistakes and experiences of the first year have made me more ambitious and determined to do things. It has brought me out of my shell. I'm currently saving to put my money towards useful, practical and fun things: hopefully a 10-week course in German and a solo weekend in Spain. I'm also planning a few more trips around the country to concerts and to the 'Cake and Bake Show' in London which I am super excited about!!

So, in short, I am so so so so SO thankful for my independence, but not because it allowed me to 'run away' from anything or anyone but because it brought me closer to the person at the heart of the matter and gave me more resolve to act upon the opportunities that life has given me. I definitely hope that I manage to do far far more things this year than last and I have challenged myself to write a post at the end of April of 100 things I did between my 19th and 20th birthday! Look out for that one! 

How I learned to love to be single

For all my life, in terms of relationships, it's just been me, myself and I. I just fancied writing about something that, maybe, everyone feels like they have to do. I know that I've felt slightly abnormal because I haven't followed the 'conventions of teenage-hood', as it were. But I guess I haven't found the right person. In fact, the more and more I think about it, it seems like I might be happier, single. I don't want this post to later be hypocritical. What I write today is jut how I feel now. (Also, this is aimed at no one in particular, but just my general experience :D) 

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Growing up, I think much of my school life revolved around who was going out with who. It was like trivia: Guess who's going out with ___?!" 

It was always quite exciting to find out but more so to see how long people could keep the girlfriend and boyfriend status up. 

As we moved from little year 7s to year 10s and 11s, relationships began to last longer than a matter of weeks that you could count on your right hand. 

Love was now real. 

I wasn't ready for a boyfriend in year 7. In fact, I was still playing with Barbie's when I got home after school. But, low and behold, that was the last time I ever had a 'boyfriend'. I say boyfriend like this because, even thought we said we were on a relationship, we most probably weren't. 

I hated being social outside of school and so cinema dates and going to each others houses was a no-go. We simply saw each other in school. But even then, it wasn't love so much as it was experimental. 

But still, for all my false delusions about love, I still wanted to have someone. 

Every new school year I thought: this will be it. But every year I ended, I was still single.

It was finally at university when I realised how important it was to have your own time. I saw people every day. When I cooked dinner. I heard them as I went to bed. I bumped into everyone, everywhere. 

Though the social side of things has really helped me and is something that I really love about uni, I did still need my free time. 

I found a few spare moments to blog. But I hardly ever had time to read for pleasure nor work on writing stories. There was always something to be done and if I rejected social meetings in order to spend time with me, myself and I on a hobby, I felt anti-social.

I missed the time I had to myself. To do nothing or, conversely, work on something extra-ordinary. 

I also began to work out that being in love with someone was an incredibly emotional and time-consuming thing! (It also ate most of your credit and got you to watch films that you wouldn't normally watch, with food that you wouldn't normally have bought). 

Having a boyfriend was all-encompassing. You had to think for not only 1 person but 2. 

Maybe that's because I'm selfish in that respect, or maybe because I just don't know enough but there are some things I love about being un-romantically-attached. 

- I can eat what I want by the call of my stomach 

- I spend more time with my friends 

- I can get a cheap phone tariff 

- I can choose to see family or go on trips at the drop of a hat 

- I can spend more money on my family's presents at Christmas 

- it's ok to spend all my holiday in Dubai 

Maybe things will change as I get older, but sometimes there are people who ask: 'is there anyone you like?' Or who say: 'He'd be good boyfriend material.' But to both statements I would have to answer 'no' and 'maybe' and as for why: 'because I just like it this way.' 

Those winter nights ...

I live in the most amazing city and the most amazing part of it too! I absolutely love it! 

When I began looking for Unis in year 13 I had absolutely no clue where to start. Location, at this point had nothing to do with it. I was living in Dubai and I knew that my family wouldn't be coming back to the UK with me. So I could have gone anywhere with a 7 hour flight or a 3,000 mile distance. It seemed that the University I went to wasn't important either. 

I reckon I'm more of a creative person rather than an academic one. I can get by in exams and coursework but it always seems that no matter how much I do, I never quite make it. I had never been so stressed in my LIFE when I took my A-levels and I still didn't manage to get the grades I thought I was working towards. In a way, working like that, constantly, put me off academic learning for the rest of my life. I wanted to know new things but studying for fun with a £9,000 investment each year didn't seem value for money. 

Still, I poured through a whole manner of degrees from international development (something I would actually have really liked to do) to creative writing - a subject that would have made my dream degree. 

But it's virtually unheard of to do something 'fun' at a Russell Group University. Don't get me wrong; I absolutely love studying English and Spanish and the intellectual factor makes me feel a less than a little girl and more like an adult. But conjugating verbs and writing dissertations that have an indoctrinated style is a far cry from the freelance capacity of a creative writing student. 

When I finally found a degree and selected some unis, one of which - Southampton - was somewhere I'd often visited, I began to half-resent the idea of going back to the UK. 

I enjoyed the sun, but from an English-born-and-bred point of view, it's hard to imagine how frustrating the constant sun can become. There is little respite or inspiration for change. But the more I thought about Southampton, the more I fell in love. The campus was so green and breezing around the lanes just seemed so homely. Something really had clicked. 

I absolutely love the scenery and those gorgeous winter nights. 

And the multi-coloured rhinos :D

Finding your sanctuary

University leaves so much unlocked potential for the individual. Societies, clubs, clubbing, new faces, lectures. The increased freedom and focus on self can lead, either, to a slow but sure regression or - in the majority of cases - a bountiful exertion of one's happiness and ambition.

With a routine, that I have now had to plan myself, the importance of management is evermore crucial. This morning I set off to rekindle my love of the church. It was a small affair; not many in the way of congregation numbers - well, certainly fewer than I had previously known. But what was lacking in individuals was made up in general happiness, ambiance and devotion.

I sat as far from the altar as could be. Not for dislike of being new, but for the simple reason of losing my voice when the hymns began. Singing, largely, was never a quality I admitted owning, despite the 'pop star' phase of year 3 - a career move I took very seriously.

So I sat and stood to sing when the time came, all the while, during organisational pauses, taking in the peachy coloured walls, the static of the chairs, the decked flooring. It certainly wasn't the image of a typical church, save for the religious memorabilia decorating the hall and the willing congregation, amongst whom sat the formally dressed family and friends of a toddler who was to be baptised.

I got thinking in those moments; what is a church? This building didn't have the age-old, stained glass, musty smelling character of what is usually taken as a church. But did that make it an less of a church than an 17th century stoned work of architecture? It was, however informal, by definition, still a church.

Religion in general is an idea of concept. There is very little concrete about a service and other particulars. Of course, there are the formalities; holy scriptures and communions, declarations of faith and pilgrimages but those aren't the things that necessarily underpin religion and, more specifically to this case, a church. So, if it is only a matter of conception that creates religion and Gods, might we all go to church in some form or another regardless of whether we are religious or not?

In its simplest terms, a church is a place of worship. A more close-fitting definition would be a common place of worship. Is this then applicable to a commodity such as a bed?

Who doesn't like bed? Or sleep for that matter? A minority of the human race. The bed is a place of common love.

In church, our reason for being is God. In bed our reason for being, mostly, is sleep. In such circumstances, therefore, our beds are like our own personal churches. My bed will not be the same as yours. Though it may look the same, the meaning of it will be different. Yet, you and I are commonly joined in the notion of going to bed and sleeping. Similarly, my notion of God will not be the same as yours. Perhaps, you don't even believe in God. Or you may not believe in just one but many. Still, whatever your values, we are joined in thinking and evaluating the world through our own dynamic system of beliefs.

When you're welcomed into a Parish, such as I was this morning, you are given a wider appreciation and room to think. You don't have to agree with the conventions of service or practice because every worship is different.

I suppose, in the end, what is important, however, is that you, eventually, find your own sanctuary and church whether it be in the actual building, with you family and friends, or in that bowl of warm buttered popcorn sitting beside you.

The IKEA Haul

As University draws nearer and nearer, enlarging on the horizon, nerves are a reoccurring sensation.

But as every little thing I do to prepare sets in, nothing has hit me more than packing up my whole room and coordinating colours for my new one in University - a space that's going to be considerably smaller and will house my entire world for the year.  

This afternoon we took to IKEA - of course. (Who doesn't end up in IKEA when furnishing their home?) 

We went at 5:30pm - bad choice. If you're familiar with Dubai you'll know how lively the country becomes at night. It's almost part of the culture. No one really goes out until the sun sets. There's no worse place to be on a late weekend afternoon than IKEA. There are literally hundreds of couples and families browsing every section of the store. Finding what you need with a supermarket trolley is easier said than done. 

Nevertheless, 2 hours after we arrived, we'd bought most of the essentials; knives, scissors, a chopping board, a laundry basket, cutlery. Most things. 

It's amazing how much fun choosing essentials can be. 

I've decided upon a red and white theme for the bathroom - a colour scheme I've always always loved. I feel like a new home owner. I don't feel old enough to get picky over the colours in a bathroom!

While I'm an advocate of cheapness, I really enjoy choosing old fashioned and vintage decorations. 

This clock (though you can't see very well) is an original style clock - with two bells on top and a metal ringer to wake me up in the morning. 

So, it's fair to say that I'm really really happy with the afternoon's work - walking round with my little list whilst piling various items into the trolley, then removing them after having looked at the price! 

It's weird how by putting myself right in the centre of it all, I've taken the edge off my nerves! 

My home from home

Last night, I took another step closer to solidity; my dad and I accepted my place in the university halls for September. Now that my accommodation has been arranged, I can finally associate my name with the campus as a member of the community.

As daunting as I think moving in will be, particularly leaving on a plane to live in another country away from my parents, I am so glad that I have a place to call mine. I suppose it's like when your parents choose you your name when you're born. It's your defining moment. That word now means something to you. For me, that confirmation has completed my defining moment as I start a new chapter. And I couldn't be happier.

When I first received the notification I couldn't stop smiling. It was the bookshop situation; trying to tell myself that 'It's alright' when I was already past being calmed down for the excitement jangling in my veins.
I couldn't open the email fast enough. It was 10pm. My fingers were shaking. I was desperate to sleep and the thud of a headache I had all day was growing stronger in protest.

"I'll just look and see what it says," I resolved, unable to pry myself away from the addiction of the anticipation.

When I found out that I had been allocated the small halls, my heart began to thump.
No. I thought. I've applied for the wrong place!

I swung the mouse to the internet bar. I typed the entire address and loaded various websites including the search results from Google images.  One of the first comments that came up stated that the small halls were located 2 miles from the campus I would be studying at. I was panicking.
I don't have a car! How am I going to get there? I'll have to leave at 5am just to get to lectures on time!
(It's probably worth noting that I have absolutely no concept of distance or any sense of direction.)

Why is this happening? It was all going so well!
I took to finding consolation on Facebook. There are those moments of anxiety when you're waiting to find out something important on the internet and the page loads so slowly that you find yourself wondering;
Do I really want to know what everyone else is going to say?

I looked on the accommodation group for my allocated halls. I read the reviews.  It seemed as though no one had wanted to be in those halls. They, like me, had just been sent there. But...everyone liked it.

I read, that night, tiredness subsiding, that the halls were more compact and so it was possible and more likely that you would make lasting friends. The community feel was stronger and within easy access of two of the most popular nightclubs, which I read were the main point of being a fresher. The block was also located right by the common, an environment that has now become a top priority for anywhere I stay considering the last 2 years have been spent in a grand sandpit.
The fear began to ebb away. It didn't seem to matter that none of my existing friends hadn't been offered a place to stay there. As far as I was concerned, I was extremely lucky that the university hadn't obeyed my choices. It was as though they already knew the kind of person I was and the choices I made - many of which I wouldn't even trust. Though it was completely different from what I had once wanted, I did still have an ensuite room - the object of all my pursuits and for that I was incredibly thankful.

I really couldn't have asked for more.

So, we only got round to accepting it last night, having been offered it three days ago. But no matter when these things happen, it seems that slowly, and perfectly, everything is falling into place.

Preparing for uni

I've learnt, university doesn't have to be daunting. Undoubtedly, they will be the best years of your life, everyone says - its a theory I've yet to try. 

When I started year 13 this year I didn't want to begin. As far as I was concerned it was the beginning of the end. Everything if ever known about life was about to change. I was about to be exposed to another side of it. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE surprises. But this surprise want something I wanted to deal with. I know how to cook - so that's fine - and I'm more than OK navigating the bus route - but give me any other map and I'm as useful as a broken compass. 

What's the problem? I kept asking myself. It was an answer I couldn't give. I didn't even know if there was an answer. 

I mulled on the prospect.

I tried to convince myself; 

Everyone does it. Lie number one. 

Your parents aren't far away. Lie number two (my parents live in Dubai - 7 hours from England).

This is what you've always been waiting for. Lie number three. 

This definitely wasn't what I had been waiting for. Whenever I thought of my life I kind of skipped uni out. I knew I would go but when I thought of getting older I thought of getting a job, being a mum and wife. Them being a grandma. Life races ahead of me and, although I always assumed I would have a degree under my belt, getting it was never something I'd ever thought about. 

Then here I was; 17 and in my last year of college, with university in the horizon. 

How daunting! 

After a while though, I came to terms with it. 

This is your life, I thought. You can't chill with mum and dad forever. You need this. 

True - I still have those wobbly days when I don't want to go. But they pass and I try my hardest not to bring them up. 

The most important thing I need to go into university with is an optimistic mind. 

So I've started having fun: planning my room design, buying tools - maybe not your idea of fun. But it took my mind away from the day I leave the sand and trade it in for concrete. 

One of the tasks I've been waiting to do since I started packing is create a photo collage. And now I've finally got it done. 

I imagine it will be very useful. Reminding me of where I've been and how I've come may one day help me write those essays and complete the degree. 

Things are looking up and I can't wait. Especially as I've found out that they have a cake decorating society!!! Who ate all the pies? 

Getting into Uni

This Thursday filled with a sickly mix of dread and excitement, I took the dive with my mum to school to collect my results. 

It's the worst feeling waiting for that envelope. Having to collect it from a teacher who may or may not already know your results. That look; the face concealing a smile that is either wry or pleased. You can never tell. 

I signed an then I got it. DAMN! Not quite what I needed! I was in despair - 2 grades lower than I needed. 

I couldn't help but curse myself; if only I wasn't so conceited! Why did I think I was getting into Uni? That was stupid and now I've jinxed myself! 

I sat with my mum. The results weren't tragic. I knew full well. But I'd applied to Universities that were a little out of my league. I should have been sure of disappointment. 

Now What? I thought.

The last thing I needed was a newspaper journalist, pad in hand asking me how I'd done and what university I was going to. 

'Well I don't think I'll get in now,' I replied. 

'Inshallah! (God willing)'She soothed. 'Inshallah'.

I could have used her optimism. 

We went home and began trawling through clearing vacancies. The track website was down so I was waiting for it to open, second after second becoming awash with grief and uncertainty. 

It opened after a while. I saw the screen. Purple and white filling the window;

Your place at your chosen university has been confirmed on the course BA (Hons) English and Spanish. 

I was ecstatic! 

I've been accepted! When I didn't even get the grades!!!

I never thought it would be happening! My hopes had been dashed and so quickly restored! I was going!! What were the chances? 

So the news has now sunk in and I've been preparing and out shopping I got a little surprise. My nan bought me celebratory chocolate - my gift! I couldn't be happier. Grades and university, a new start and chocolate!!