what now?

It took four years, a lot of self-discipline and a significant amount of chocolate but in May I completed my degree. Twelve years after finishing school I can finally write 'BA hons' after my name (would it be weird to write it all the time?). I can now officially claim to be qualified for everything and nothing at the same time, along with almost every other person who has ever completed an arts degree. Yet, despite the few useful applications of Shakespeare to any career, I have gained so much from my studies. I feel like a different person to the one who embarked on further study four years ago; I questions more, debate more and stand up for the things I believe in. I see the world in a whole new light and don't simply take everything at face value. And I realise I still have so much to learn.

If I'm honest, the end of my studies has left me in a bit of a limbo-state. Now that I have accomplished the very thing I have been working towards for so long, I feel the pressure to come up with a good answer to the question everyone keeps asking: 'What now?'
In order to escape the strain of having to think about the future, I have spent the summer distracting myself with constant activity. On Thursday, I had a meeting in the city to talk about how to end extreme poverty (or at least contribute in my own small way). Afterwards, I decided to stop in at the National Portrait Gallery to ensure that I was definitely filling every moment of my day.

The gallery's walls are lined with the faces of famous individuals from time-gone-by to the present day. There are portraits of kings and queens throughout the ages, politicians and religious figures. I dutifully stopped at the recent portrait of the Duchess of Cambridge and considered how much her life too has changed in the last few years. There are also pictures of those who are less famous, such as the socialite Ottoline Morrell who looks as if she would kill you with just one look if you crossed her. One of my favourites is the heart-warming portrait of the children's author Beatrix Potter; she is standing in the farmyard, her chubby cheeks aglow, looking exactly as someone called Beatrix should. As I ambled through the impressive Statesmen's Gallery I began to think about my own place in history. As well as housing pictures of those who have made their mark, throughout the gallery there are portraits to be found of those who might be seen as ordinary people. Yet, if they are so ordinary, how did they make it into one of the most famous art galleries in the world? Because no one is simply ordinary. We all have the potential for greatness. Any one of us can achieve something remarkable, something worth a portrait hung in a building just off Trafalgar Square.

It seems, as much as I try and escape the question 'What now?', it is waiting for me at every turn. Either I can run from it, or I can meet it head-on. I just need to remember that I am made for a purpose - as we all are - and that there is a plan for my life. I don't have the answers but I do have the will and a degree that has equipped me with very useful 'transferable skills'. It is time to face life...and remember to smile. Because you never know when someone might want to paint your portrait.

reading history, making history

It's thundery outside and I have no choice but to remain couped up indoors. Days like today make me want to write. Okay, it's not just the weather. It's also my way of side-stepping the research I should be doing on the English Civil War of the seventeenth century. I know, you can't understand my procrastination when the topic at hand is just so enthralling.
I have to admit, despite how my current avoidance of the aforesaid reading may reflect on my sentiments, I have actually found my study of the English Renaissance quite intriguing. While analysing the innovation, as well as the turmoil, of times gone by I do wonder what the history books (or websites) will say about our time, my time. As far as innovation is concerned, the Internet will almost certainly feature as the advancement that changed the world as we once knew it. I suspect mobile phones will follow closely behind. Personally, I threaten to toss mine into the Thames too often to pledge my support of this development in telecommunications. Do people really have to be able to contact me ALL the time?
There is likely to be mention of the numerous wars that continue to be fought around the globe and the effects of 'terrorism' on those who say they strive for peace. Most confrontingly, I wonder what approach historians will take when relaying such atrocities as human trafficking and global poverty. Will they speak of the many who fought to counter these devastating problems or will their digging reveal a past society who preferred to turn a blind eye? Will you be mentioned as one who made a difference...will I? The problem with the 'here and now' is a lack of perspective. Historians have the advantage of hindsight, the ability to see a fuller picture than the one we are caught up in on a daily basis.
Yet, perhaps there is a way. We live in a world that is better connected than ever before. I do wonder if checking Facebook as regularly as I do actually makes my world quite small. And is what the news feeds me on a daily basis a true picture of reality? The big picture is far more vast than I could imagine but I can try to understand. Books, websites, journals....I have past, present and future at my fingertips. While the historians can tell a story, I'm the one who makes it happen today. What will our legacy be - yours and mine? We choose what the historians write. And maybe one day, some student will be inspired by what we did instead of writing about what could have been.

what next?

The last couple of weeks have been a bit chaotic. Moving home always measures pretty high up on the stress-o-meter. Once we had marginally recovered from the anxiety of having the moving truck packed but technically not yet owning our new property, we had to contend with a broken shower, no hot water in the bathroom and a malfunctioning oven. But it was okay because we had a new flat and we had each other. Momentary bliss proves to be just that when, attempting to pull out of one of the terribly awkward parking spots in our new street, I managed to knock over a parked scooter...into a parked van. You simply wouldn't believe me if I tried to describe the damage to the scooter while myself and the van got off with one scratch between us (and it's not on our car). As much as I love our new flat, this week I am content to leave it in the hands of the refurbishers while Fox and I retreat to Mom's to keep an eye on the resident delinquent while "Granskies" jets off to Australia to meet her first grandchild, Abby Rose.
Living with a teenager is keeping me consistently amused as I try to decipher the string of latest slang that pours forth out of his mouth, coax him into eating a meal with a nutritional value higher than that of Sam's Chicken and make requests through his permanently closed bedroom door. This morning I had to chuckle at the state of panic when his desire for independence backfired, leaving him standing in his boxers cursing at the injustice of having no dry jeans to wear. (Aaz, on the off chance you are actually reading this, I'm sorry I'm such a cruel sister but it was very funny. Don't worry, Des also has me as a sister...she can sympathise with you.) Thankfully, I'm not too old to remember the days when adults knew nothing, my friends were my world and everything was too much effort.
So, as I turn my attention back to Virgina Woolf and fall under the spell of Mrs Dalloway's London, I think of my own London where there is just never a dull moment.

quiet please this is a library

Today, as on most Fridays, I was forced out of our flat by the neighbour upstairs sharing this week's top 100 hits. While I don't mind a bit of Black Eyed Peas or Lady Gaga, such an environment simply isn't conducive to reading Plato. I reluctantly made my way to the library and settled myself at one of the tables in the magazine/newspaper section. It must have been the time of day because ten minutes later I found myself questioning if I was in the library or if I had mistakenly walked into a pensioners home. An old man came and sat across from me and may have gone unnoticed had he not blatantly lifted his left bum-cheek and simply let rip without a glimpse of shame. As I tried to feign ignorance and focus on Socrates arguing the nature of morality, an argument in my present surroundings caught my attention: a bit of a scuffle had arisen over the Investors Chronicle. The man across from me had the sought-after magazine in his possession, a lady to his left was claiming that she had been looking for it first so it was rightly to come to her next and there was a third gentleman who begrudgingly admitted defeat and said he would just wait his turn. Once a compromise had been reached the arguing man and woman got to chatting to pass the time. Five minutes later a lady in her little knitted hat and cardigan shouted at the two of them, "This is a library and you are not supposed to talk and you have been talking for half an hour!" The response was somewhat defensive but nevertheless the offending couple skulked off to a corner to leave the hatted granny in peace. At this point, the man across from me broke from jotting down investor tips, looked at me and said, "Oh dear, everyone is getting into trouble today. You had better watch out or you'll be next. You'll get into trouble for reading a book instead of reading a newspaper...reading books in the library...how old-fashioned..." He then smiled and continued his reading.
I was just sorry that I usually sit in the study area and miss all of this action. What a great way to pass the afternoon, although I'm not sure how much studying would actually happen.
I reckon I'll probably be a library dwelling granny one day, booking my place in the queue to catch up on the latest news and huffing at those who break the rules. "Quiet please, this is a library..."

metaphorical friday

Right now I’m supposed to be formulating an answer to explain the problems with a common-sense assumption that language reflects reality. You can see why I would rather be blogging.
Instead, I’m sitting on the couch, contemplating what to have for diner while staring out the window at sheets of London rain (did you even spot the metaphor there? Probably not because this is a Metaphor We Live By). That being said, I’m really loving my studies, despite how my procrastination might not reflect that. At times it feels like my brain might explode, at others I simply lose myself in the narrative of a classic. As I’m sure you can gather, I’m still working on the self-discipline aspect but that will come eventually. Either that or I’m going to do a lot more blogging.
Anyway, I should make an attempt at understanding the social implications of syntax and the systematicity of metaphorical concepts before the day is out.
As a reward for the days efforts I get to enjoy, not only, the satisfaction of knowing that I have grasped something new but also dinner and a movie with my wonderful husband.
Did I mention that I was listening to John Mayer? Fridays are like a mouthful of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food where you get a bit of the marshmallow and a chocolate fish. Bliss.

literally procrastinating

In writing this post I am reverting back to a means of task-avoidance about which I had long forgotten along with school lunches, the Theorem of Pythagoras and debating (yes, I was on the debate team – all the cool kids were doing it). I am speaking of what is commonly known as the “art of procrastination”. Since starting my studies towards my English degree I have found countless reasons to do anything but read my texts books which, quite frankly, make as much sense to me as the technology behind mobile phones. Last week, while attempting to understand everything that entails “literary theory” I found the need to refer to my newly acquired Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms. Understandably, such a title wouldn’t arouse all-round enthusiasm in most, but to me it is heaven-sent in assisting me to make head-or-tail of concepts that are simply way over my head. However, the entry for humanism prompted me to look up Renaissance; on doing this I was made to refer to the term Enlightenment (how appropriate!); but in order to fully understand this I first needed to look up Encyclopèdtes; which, unsurprisingly, referred me back to Enlightenment and just as well because by this stage I had completely forgotten what I was originally trying to look-up and had run out of fingers for page markers. I suspect that these initial literary terms are the least of my worries and no amount of procrastination is going to turn me into an instant intellectual literary critic. However, you can probably expect an increase in blog posts. And perhaps I’ll invest in a few proper page markers in order to elude myself into thinking that study times aren’t as daunting as they first appear.