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!

I'm a Grown Up!

It doesn't take much to feel accomplished; a coffee in hand, walking home with 2 bagfuls of groceries, organising a trip on your own, having your shoes heeled.

And, when you find that special something that takes you - if only momentarily - through to adulthood, suddenly self-consciousness disappears.  You become a good version of yourself; smiling with head held high.

It's weird, how something as simple as putting your signature at the bottom of a piece of paper can make you feel accomplished. 

The concept of signing a contract; after you've scribbled your name, suddenly becomes more grave. But the act of holding the pen and writing can change you. It's bizarre. Like I could write my initials on a piece of toilet paper and sending it hurtling down the loo and I might have, unknowingly, signed myself up for some secret agreement with sewage maintenance.

That wouldn't make me feel proud. I wouldn't hold my head high.

But suddenly if you change the loo roll for crisp A4 with printed lettering and ominous words, it seems more significant.

I guess, in the adult mind, we don't believe that there are men on the receiving end of your toilet, like we are able to as a child.

I, reckon I'm still a child. A big one. But nevertheless, signing my first house contract gave me a sense of achievement. I have entered an adult world I didn't really need to be in.

So now, to add to my collection of names; lean, marsha, mash (my parents' choices), unemployed, child and student ... I can now add 'tenant'.

Laura; the tenant.

Back to black

It is with great difficulty and a strong acquisition of knowledge that one may find himself in two countries at the same time.

And it may be the beauty of the flight that changes this improbability into reality. You find yourself duplicated in the lengthy dreams of the world which you have just left and musings on your new destination. You realise, furthermore, the solidification of your destination. It was once, a few minutes ago, a future imagining that suddenly bore meaning as it strengthened into colours; greens, blues, greys. Into viscosity and violent truth.

I know my family lives on in this shell of a country that, being once my reality, is now a future (and past) imagining. I can no longer touch where they are but know that the place in which they live, and themselves, is true simply because I was once there and keep it alive in my memory and expectation.

And so, I am in two places at once; the physicality of my being and the emotional transportation of my mind.

Obsession Number 2

Here comes obsession number 2 ... OLLY MURS!! 

I absolutely love Olly Murs; his voice, his smile, his music. I love his style - how he dresses for videos and photo shoots and I've been pretty obsessed with him since he released he's first single after The X Factor. 

I wouldn't say he's my idol, though. For me, an idol is someone you aspire to be and I don;t see myself singing or growing a beard any time soon.

My favourite song of his is Dear Darlin' with Right Place, Right Time in a close second.

I was actually so 'fanatically engaged' (shall we say) with him that I watched this video: 

And this one ...

... more than once. I think he's a real gentleman and getting to meet him would be a dream come true!