Finishing, fisting, fairy tales, and feminism.
It has been a long old while since I updated this blog, and for those of you who got in touch to ask for a new post (Hi Jess!) your patience has been rewarded.
So what’s new in the world of me? Well, I’ve finished university completely and forever. This is a terrifying realisation which sunk in as I endured ‘The Worst Hangover Known to Humankind’™ and began a pity-party for myself, listening to my old favourite ‘What Do You Do With a BA in English?’ from Avenue Q, whilst inwardly thinking ‘This is my life! This musical is my LIFE! DEAR GOD.’
Coincidentally, I went to see Avenue Q and it was most enjoyable. I have decided that when I grow up, I want to be a Bad Idea Bear. Hurrah. I always wanted my life to be a musical, but I wanted it to be a bad-ass musical with me as the feisty, kick-ass lead. As it turns out, I am more like a puppet -a puppet being fisted and manoeuvred by a man dressed in black who the audience are supposed to pretend they can’t see.
This is quickly becoming a darkly disturbing metaphor about the individual and society. Let’s move on..
I’ve realised a few things since I left university (note: I cannot yet say ‘since I graduated’ as my marks have yet to be returned and I won’t actually know whether I actually am a ‘graduate’ until the end of June. What’s that all about? For fuck’s sake! etc, etc.) about what I actually learnt there. Turns out that doing an English degree and knowing how to analyse the bejezus out of a Shakespearean sonnet is not top of an employer’s wish list. I wish someone had told me that.
As I sat out in the sun last week with my mum, her asking me what I plan to do with my life and me giving her a look that simply said ‘IN THIS ECONOMY?!’, I proceeded to lament my fate as an unemployed (and unemployable?) ex-Arts student. I thought about 17-year-old me and what I wish people had told her, what would I tell young people now that I am old, and wise, and living the life a fisted puppet?
First of all: READ. Read like your life depends on it, because it does. I’m currently reading ‘How to Be a Woman’ by Caitlin Moran because I have just finished 17 years of full-time education and I still am unsure how to do the whole ‘woman’ thing. However, NEVER FINISH TESS OF THE D’UBERVILLES. I’ve always hated this book, but it took me few years to realise why. As it turns out, it is simple - I am a feminist (that ‘equality’ thing sounds like a good idea, no?) and the reason I hate ‘THAT BLOODY BOOK’, as I now refer to it, is because all of Tess’ problems stem from the OPPRESSIVE PATRIARCHY she lives in. Essentially she dies as a consequence of having the audacity to wind up pregnant because Alec d’Urberville is THE DEVIL INCARNATE and contraception didn’t exist back then. Goodness gracious.
In conclusion: READ, but don’t read THAT BLOODY BOOK.
Also, don’t let other people determine your self-worth. Here’s a little bedtime fairytale for you:
Once upon a time, there was a maiden making her way home from a long day of studying for a fucking degree. On occasions such as these, she did not feel the need to dress up and beautify herself in order to render herself as visually inoffensive and was quiet happily minding her own business. However, on this particular evening she encountered three townsmen who clearly had never read a book in their lives (too busy watching Babestation, I suppose…). The townsmen had spent their evening consuming mead at the local watering hole and under the influence of this honey wine proceeded to have a loud conversation about the maiden.
The behaviour of the townsmen indicated that the maiden was intended to overhear their interaction and, amidst the slurring and unintelligible grunts, she deciphered that they were discussing whether they would burden themselves with the troublesome act of having sex with her. The words ‘shocking’ and ‘charity’ were banded about by the townsmen but the maiden didn’t listen after that point; she was thinking to herself ‘Dear god, imagine if I was actually in a relationship with a townsman like that!’
The maiden continued her journey home, not letting the townsmen’s idiocy take away from the fact that she was going to enjoy her life. She knew how Tess of the d’Urbervilles ended - she had read most of it and Wikipedia’d the rest - and her conclusion was ‘fuck no, that’s not for me’. She was going to do the things she wanted to do without feeling like she had to live up to anyone else’s expectations of who she should be or what she should do.
She’d live happily ever after on her own terms.
The End.
Moral of the story? Imagine that someone had so much control over your self-worth that they were able to make you feel like shit. Maybe there is someone like that in your life right now. You deserve better than that, and no-one can define who you are except yourself.
Be exceptional. Achieve stuff - do well in exams, make lots of friends, travel and see the world - do whatever it is that you have a burning desire to do. But don’t let anyone else determine what is important to you, or what should be important to you.
Choose it for yourself: it’s your life after all.
Oh my god, it’s been a month - A MONTH! - since I last wrote a post. Don’t you just hate it when life gets in the way of writing your blog? I know I do, especially when my so-called life involves dumb shit like studying in an attempt to get a good degree - what a ridiculous notion. 
