Well, Thanks For Your Input !!!

There is never a time when a criticism can't be better used.

I've been a writer for the University newspaper since the beginning of term and, I suppose, as a journalist you have to be open to controversy. That is a fact that I wholly accept. But when you don't even write anything offensive, criticism is completely unnecessary!

If I had to decide, I'd say that I was more of a blogger than a journalist. My mind isn't adapted for this structural conveying of information with specific points and targets than need to be met in order to keep the reader entertained. My mind is wild and rambles beyond belief but in a bid to broaden my horizons I tried writing for the newspaper.

I stick mainly to opinion articles because I know that's what I can get away with. It's just my opinion - I don't have to be write. And because it is my opinion, I get excited by the fact that I might spark debate.

One of the latest articles to be published under my name was "We wouldn't hurt a fly" which examined thug culture in Britain. Admittedly it wasn't one of my best pieces, it was a piece I used
to break into this type of writing to develop a certain professional style. But, even though it might not have been a righteous article for publication, the editor of the section deemed it good enough to be featured. And so it was put up on the website for the whole University to peruse at their leisure and negate my views should they so desire.

On many of my articles, I'd never had a comment before. I assumed my writing just got brushed away as a topic of little importance, but at least, I figured, I was building my portfolio.

So when I saw that I had a comment on the thug culture article, my heart leapt a little. But it was for a completely different reason that it was still jumping after I closed the window.

The comment wasn't bad but it still knocked me.

I love the unrelated part about celebrities, it read.

I had written that bit mainly to up the word count so it would be of suitable length. And at the time I thought that celebrity influence was an additional viewpoint that would provide insight into the problem.

Perhaps it wasn't. And perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it. Maybe it was irrelevant. I didn't really know why I cared so much about someone else's opinion on my work. I was looking for the spark to start a meaningful debate, but when I got a frank and useless comment, I was suddenly thrown.

I found myself thinking of retaliation. I felt the need to craft ridiculous speech.

"Yeah well ... well ... well, I've got an interview at Gregg's, so there!"

I didn't have an interview at Gregg's. I don't know why anyone would have cared if I did. But I felt like it would be some backlash, something that would make that user stop in their tracks. I thought it was like a warning: Don't mess with me!!!

It wasn't.

But for all the worrying I had done on the subject, just one simple classic song filled the room.

"You need me, I don't you."

It's funny how music can do that. Calm storms, ignite flames, burst rivers.

I listened to the song, the careful matrix of the lyrics. Ed Sheeran was right; I didn't need them. In the first place, I didn't even know why I was getting worked up. I already knew that, but I just needed someone to tell me. 

I'm a first year and though I'm not a baby, I could do with guidance. Perhaps the slight cast on the day wouldn't have been there had someone commented;

I don't think this part should be there. 

I feel defiant to change it for their sake. So now I'll leave it posted; wrong. Some people are just so quick to criticize.

Thank goodness for Ed!

Isaac, the brave

When you think about it; your life is all you'll ever know. You only know what you see, what you feel. Empathy doesn't exactly work in this world. You might think what emotions you have felt are comparable to others but you'll never know. You'll think the pain that you've felt is the hardest that ever existed and you'd think you're right because you'll never actually know. A broken leg may well be more painful than 3 fractured ribs injured in different circumstances, but you'll never know.  So you might as well be right. 

In a sense, I've always thought, it gives you a feeling of empowerment. You feel like you're (for want of a better word) the 'chosen one'. The human who was meant to feel explicit emotions. And because you only know you, you feel like you have to do something. Be someone. Change the world. And moreover, you may feel as though you have the power to carry it through. 

Forgive me if I'm confusing you, this has always been a hard concept to explain. 

There was a little boy who was the son of a couple who attended the church that I began to at University. The boy was Isaac and he was about 2 years old but he'd spent much of his life fighting chest infections amongst other illnesses I was too new to know about. 

My last service in the church was on the 2nd Sunday of Advent and his mother attended. The priest called her to the front half way through the service and we did a communal prayer. For her son. It was incredibly spiritual - everyone holding out their hands to this mother, assenting at particular parts of the prayer. And when it was over the room was flushed with tears. 

Holding out my hand to her, I felt like I could change her son's life. This force, power and compassion was channelled through my hands. I had the feeling of empowerment. The belief that I was the chosen one. That I had the power to make things right. 

And so, when I received an email entitled 'Isaac', it was with regret that I opened it. All other updates of his progress had been; Isaac - a bad evening. Or Isaac - in Paediatrics Intensive Care. But I knew what a heading like Isaac meant. 

Indeed he had passed away. The power I had felt in praying for his mother seemed futile. Hopefully it had helped but it hadn't saved him. Like I thought it could have. 

The world is a bizarre place. You are led to feel emotions that don't materialise. Who knows what powers each individual has. Who knows how different we are from who we think we are. 

For Isaac, nothing more can be done. Nothing but prayer. Please pray for his family; his parents, those who knew him, those who loved him. And him; Isaac - a brave young boy with the most gorgeous smile, a loving family and life cut too short.