Who are you today?

Recently, I've been noticing how much people change; often within a matter of minutes. It could be that it's dependent on who we're with, how we're feeling, where we are. But sometimes, spending a full day with one person can feel like a a few hours with a few different people.

People are constantly branded 'fake' or find themselves victim to accusations of not being themselves. But, I've started to notice, myself, that people do change; everybody changes from time to time. I change. We aren't all one persona. And as we grow up, we realise that we have to act differently in different situations with different people and approach different things in certain ways.

I look at it as each of us having two personalities; we are two people. There's the person we want to be and the person that we think 'they' want us to be. So, yes, we are acting, but we do it so we fit in and so we feel comfortable. Is that really a bad thing?

Just a few keepers

As I looked around my bedroom, I realised it was unsuccessful in portraying my age. I'd struggle to pinpoint why and what exactly made me think this, but I felt like I had grown up whilst my bedroom stayed in it's 6 years ago state. I'm not sure if state's the right word, because it wasn't so much of a mess, it's just the fact that every space, or empty place on a shelf, was occupied by something I probably didn't need. 

So I began to have a 'quick' tidy up last night, whilst mum and dad watched some morbid drama on the tv. For saying that was on for 90 minutes, and I began to tidy before it started, and finished whilst the next programme was on, it wasn't so much of a quick tidy!

My tidy turned in to a mass clear-out. My tidy resulted in 5 rubbish bags and endless amounts of charity bags and my room looks just about like my room does whilst I'm away at uni; it's tidy and semi-empty, except I'm living in it. 

I had to be ruthless but it was hard. To anybody else, half of the stuff were pointless teddies or useless notebooks, but to me they all had a meaning or place. Each thing was a gift from a special person, or something I'd bought from somewhere as a souvenir. And it might be that that person has died and I'll never receive something from them again. And, that place which i remembered with the notebook may no longer exist, or I'll never get the chance to go there again. 

But, at the end of the day, most of the things were unused dust-collectors and my bedroom had to grow up with me. 

So after 2 hours, there's me, my bed and a just a few keepers. 

Season's Greetings.

Christmas is a funny one. We class it as one day, despite the endless weeks of preparation, stress and expense. It'd be silly to say Christmas began at 1 minute past midnight, the day after christmas eve.

I'd say Christmas was more of a season which begins start-mid November and ends around New Year. Christmas Day is purely the day whereby everything we have done beforehand becomes pointless (wrapping the presents, sealing the cards, etc.) but the day wouldn't be 'the day' without it. It's weird to think of it like this, but it's true! We 'unwrap' everything - it's the day of unveiling.

I'm still not quite sure what we are celebrating at Christmas. Of course, it's all supposed to be about Jesus, but it's more about the food, alcohol and presents to most people. An excuse to get drunk and play Twister. But I can't help but look at Christmas as a year target; we seem to work all year towards Christmas. We save up money throughout the year and we buy little things along the way, throughout the Summer and in to Winter, before we hit December and we panic buy!

Christmas, for me, is like the finale of the year. New Year is just an excuse to be lairy.

Christmas is CANCELLED

The world scares me; it's a big, bad place and, if we spend our time watching the news, we're led to believe it's full of big, bad people.

Studying Journalism, I spend a lot of time studying news and I'm beginning to think there's more bad people in the world than good. Everyday you hear about a murder, or a burglary at the very least, and it makes you wonder what and who we're living with.

I'm thinking about this because of something I heard in the news this week. It's sickened me to the core and I can't find the words to describe it.

Donna's Dream House is a holiday home for terminally ill children and their families; a haven where children can forget about their illness and enjoy some of their last hours in a care-free environment. This is a place where happiness comes above everything and the focus is on 'living, not dying'.

The charity began with a girl called Donna and she had three wishes. They were found in a box by her bedside when she passed away at age 20 after having fought cancer for 4 years. Throughout the 4 year fight, she saw how children were suffering and decided that she wanted to help terminally ill children to live their last days a little more happier. So, in order to fulfill their late child's fairy-tale dream, Donna's parents set up the home and named it 'Donna's Dream House'.

This week, the house had to be closed down. And for a few families, this means Christmas has been cancelled.

Burglars have broken in to the house and set fire to pictures of Donna, causing over £80,000 of damage. Donna's father, Len Curtis, said it's 'ripped the heart out of the charity'. I don't understand how anybody could be so heartless to do such a thing. It's obvious to anybody what the house stands for, from both the inside and the out. The signing on the front and the illuminations in the garden stand for excitement and joy, like the atmosphere which sits inside the house. But all that's been ruined.

Laptops, TVs and cameras have been stolen but it's not about the materialistic items; it's about the house in terms of the charity, the hard work of those involved and its emotional state, not the physical solid state as it stood. The pictures and memories which sat inside the house were priceless and non-renewable. The only thing Len and Barbara have left of Donna was the pictures and her dream house and somebody, with one heartless blow, has been sick enough to destroy that.

Reading the articles about this brought tears to my eyes. I still feel sick. I hope Len and Barbara find a way to get through this and bring Donna's Dream House back up to where it was. This is the type of place we need to help in its fight, we spend far too much time worrying about materialistic things, this is about people's lives and their happiness. Children.

Some things are irreplaceable, like the photos of Donna, but with a little help, we can help Len and Barbara help other people.

Helping doesn't just mean money, it's using your initiative and emotion to make somebody else's life or job a bit easier. Helping is whatever you have to offer.

A new experience...

A few days ago I went to church. Yes, this is a revelation!

Me and my friend saw a poster about a carol service a couple of weeks ago and kept note of the date. Somehow, we didn't forget about it and set off trekking to find it the other morning. We arrived at the local Parish Church in Jesmond to find ourselves in the company of a dozen old ladies. But, at this time, we were in the empty church and it was too late to leave.

We walked down the aisle towards the choir, as we were directed to 'fill from the front'. At that moment, the word 'fill' seemed very inappropriate as the turnout was very poor. But, before we knew it and before we had chance to sit down properly, the place was bursting at the sides with people! We spent the whole time joking about how much busier church was than the nightclubs we had been in the night before. It was mental. Although, it was clear that these weren't the people we'd spent the night before with.

And I didn't expect anything else from her, but my friend spent some of the time creeping round the church looking for what she described as a 'wholesome man'. I can't take her anywhere! However, the only men that I saw were those lighting the candles around the church and at the end of our rows because it was a service lit by only 1000 candles. It's amazing how light it was and we didn't have any lights on... just candles!

I must have been the most uneducated person there - regarding religion anyway! We had to bow our heads in prayer a few times and we sang a few hymns, but I didn't know some of them so had to keep a low key and sing quietly out of tune. And when we sang the Christmas songs that I knew, I sang away like a church regular.

The choir was amazing and the people were so dedicated. You could tell by the way they sang, the way they looked and the feeling they gave off as they sang in a group. It was obviously very well rehearsed because the vocals worked so well together.

It was obvious which people were part of the church and which ones had just gone along to a carol service in a bid to find some Christmas spirit (like us!). Whilst we were there, I found myself gazing at the choir and the local members; admiring the children singing their hearts out in the choir. It was beautiful. I really admire people for believing in something and for something. And in a way, it makes me want to be part of it. It's a group of people who all hold something in common and it's nice to see. Especially the children, spending their day in church rather than messing around the city, causing havoc and wasting their day. I can't really explain why but I felt inspired and it was a really nice feeling.

When we left, we were all individually spoken to and wished a happy Christmas before being given roasted chestnuts and mulled apple juice. It was nice to escape the hectic life of being a student for an hour; the noise, madness, alcohol, parties, work and all the students!

I'm not religious, but it can't harm to give the place a visit a few times a year and show some respect.

Ew, I'm a student. A real one.

Students are constantly receiving bad press. And I never thought I'd settle in to being one.

I'm in my second year now and I'd say I make quite a good student; I'm lazy, handle my hangovers like I used to nurse a runny nose, forget that I'm here to do a degree (I keep thinking I'm on a holiday camp) and eat baked beans. Yes, I started eating baked beans.

Who'd have thought it? Before I came here I was tidy, sensible and I didn't eat baked beans. My day was the range of a normal adult; I'd get up in the morning and go to bed at night (as is expected). But here, we rise at noon and I couldn't even give a time that we go to bed. It can range anything from 10pm (although not too often!) to as late at 5am. My body clock is all over the place.

Sean Kingston had it all too right in his recent song, 'I like to sleep all day and party all night'.

For example, right now, it's 1am and I'm sat up referencing an essay which is in for tomorrow morning. Ok, that's not partying, but I have had all day to do this. And weeks before today! 'Me' 2 years ago would have had it written, printed, proof read and re-proof read a week ago. I don't know how I ever worked without the pressure because now, I can only seem to work with pressure. Whether that's down to my reluctance to do the work in the first place, I don't know, but something is going wrong somewhere.

It'd only take one fail for me to realise I can't get away with it every time. But I always seem to pull out all the stops at the last minute, therefore I think it's always going to work in my favour.

And off I go...[let's hope this isn't the assignment to make me realise]...back to it.

Note to self: You're not at Butlins. You. Need. To. Pass. A. Degree!

Fur Coats and French Knickers; I saw plenty of French Knickers but not so many fur coats!

What a spectacle.

Last night we went to see Ladyboys of Bangkok. And, wow! My chin’s still resting on my chest in shock; I can’t decide what to think of the whole performance.

Having seen Funny Girls, a drag show in Blackpool, I went in knowing what to expect. But how wrong I was. From the moment we walked in the door it felt like a freak show; a good freak show. The set up was very circus-like and it had the edgy feel that you’d expect if you walked in to an episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. But once you were properly inside the tent, you could hardly believe you were actually in a tent. However, after a few trips to the bar the reminder that you were in fact just sat in large version of something you took to Leeds fest last month comes from the dirty, smelly portaloos with a queue longer than the one to get you in to the show!

When the show started and the performers came on to the stage I got myself all excited. I was so excited that I was searching among the stage of women for the drag performers and for a split second felt cheated that for the first act, they’d thrown a bunch of ladies on to the stage rather than the ladyboys that I paid to come and see. But they’d not even reached the chorus before I had a flashback to when the compere had said: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin. Can I just remind you that the Ladyboys of Bangkok is a show of 16 male performers.’

So there I was, mesmorised in a stage which consisted of women who just happened to be men. May I add, they were absolutely beautiful and I couldn’t stop expressing how amazingly good looking I thought they were.  I don’t know many men who wouldn’t fancy them, they’d just not admit it because they know as well as I know what’s lurking south of the stunning face and north of the perfectly toned thighs.

I’m still baffled, and think I always will be, at the sheer confusion surrounding their ‘man parts’. Are they detachable? Are they strapped underneath? Have they been removed? I’ve got so many questions; so many unanswered questions! One woman, I mean man, after the other stripped down to their underwear standing on the edge of the stage with nothing but a nipple tassle and thong. Oh, and a wig! We can all dress up, we can all be someone or something else but when we do so, it usually involves extravagant items of clothing, mounds of make-up and numerous props to distract anyone from seeing what’s underneath the host of monstrosities we’re parading. I don’t understand how these men trick us all in to thinking they’re women with such little ‘make-up’ so to speak; either they’re good or we’re deluded.

Some shows claim they’re for everyone, reckon they have something to suit everybody; not many live up to it. Ladyboys of Bangkok literally does attract all varieties of people; from young to old, gay, straight, bisexual, hen parties, grandmothers, sons and daughters. Every group was represented. Whether they were there for the comedy, the night out, the curiosity or just because the family had dragged them along, the range in the audience made the show what it was. Members of the audience were being picked up to go on stage throughout which for some of us, ensured we didn’t take up the whole seat we were paying for. I was sat on the edge of my seat in fear from the beginning right to the end!

Until today, I’ve always been weirdly and openly fascinated with transvestites but at the moment I’m still in shock with confusion at what I’ve just seen. They weren’t your standard drag performers; it was like something from the future where you’ve a remote to turn yourself from a man to a woman as fast as you’d change from the Channel 4 news to ITV. Part way through the show, a lady came on stage singing about who she really was and as the song progressed she changed from her very feminine dress in to a black, masculine suit. It was like watching two people on stage where the head, adorned in something along the lines of Chanel lipstick and blusher, didn’t belong to the body of the man set before our eyes. And finally the wig was removed and we saw a man, despite the make-up. It was like a real-life sex change, live on stage, in less than 4 minutes. Jaw dropping.

Transvestitism isn’t something I really understand, but I want to understand it.

The Ladyboys were dressed head to toe in glitter and the most fabulous outfits. But me, I was so confused, I just wore a frown.   

You name it, I've got it!

So I'm a bit of a hypochondriac. Well, a LOT of a hypochondriac haha!

You name an illness, I have it. And, if I can't figure out a way I could have it, I'll worry myself sick that I start to feel the symptoms. Oh dear.

I've had quite a few dealings with websites such as the likes of Net Doctor, so no wonder I'm such a paranoid state! The smallest lump, bump, cut or pain and it's likely to tell you you've got a tumour. In fact, I can't remember exactly what it was, but I once typed something to do with my foot in and it'd linked it somehow to my brain or some other un-connected organ! It's mental. And dangerous.

If you've got a problem, have some calpol and rest for a week. That's my new solution.

Bye bye Net 'Doctory' type websites!

I am a bit strange in the way that if I start to feel ill, I'll self-diagnose myself with something; I'll self-diagnose myself with something that deep down, I know is 10 times worse than it could ever be. I go in the frame of mind that if you think it's something BAD, anything less is a bonus. It's a strange way of thinking, but it seems to work for me. This way of looking at it covers everything aswell. It covers every angle and I feel like it prepares me for everything.

I'm trying a new approach now though. I've resigned myself to the fact that nobody ever feels 100% due to the odd ache, cut or pain. So, here goes, unless I feel like I'm reaching the end of my life, I'm not going to worry.

(I'll try my best.)

I've realised you don't die THAT easily...

Can we ever really recover?

It's not unusual for a mix in communication or a bad first impression to result in some kind of hatred towards one person.

We should never judge a book by its cover. What a cliche! But I guess it's right; many of us have an idealistic image in our heads of how we want ourselves to look therefore we use our image to portray ourselves. Or it may work the other way with what we can only describe as a mix in communication between us and ourselves where we don't even realise how powerful our image is and we find ourselves making bad first impressions without opening our mouths!

There are many examples of each in today's society; we judge what we call 'emo's' for their use of black eyeliner and their black attire which adorns their white skin for the contrast! (So I think!) And by dressing and acting in these ways, they socially attach themselves to every other 'emo', leaving the rest of us with endless opportunities to play with stereotypes and judge one person based on another whom may have looked similar.

It's like anybody who wears a hoody or some tracksuit bottoms is automatically branded a chav; automatically branded an acronym which stands for 'Council Housed And Violent'. What a compliment to those of us who just wanted a day of comfort!

People too often perform mass internal judgements on slight first impressions.

But it's always the case, if you come across nice a few people will find out and you might get a few more smiles each day; make a bad impression and everybody within a sixty-five mile radius finds out!

Dress how you want to be seen and don't allow your nerves to put you in a state of ignorance!
- Or whatever, look up, above and beyond, and do what makes you happy.

Kacee xx

One day we'll all expire...then go on forever?

I often wonder if it's us making the decisions in life.

We could be in a computer game.
We could be a tiny part of something, like a small ant's nest.

It's all too much to get your head around; too many possibilites and too much uncertainty.

We live in a world where there's always somebody higher who can help; there's always somebody who can control the situation. But, when it comes to life, afterlives and natural occurances, nobody is in control and we find this hard to accept because it's not something we're familiar with.

We rant on about the 'chapters' in our lives but what if 'life' is just a chapter of something bigger, something we aren't aware of. We've already established my mind works in weird ways, so just roll with what I'm saying! It kind of makes sense. I can't get my head around the fact that we die and then supposedly go to some place else. Well, according to some people, but to others, we come back as another animal or creature depending on how we behaved in our previous life. And so if this is the case should we live for the moment, or for our next life?

Everything we do is to a time limit, even though we may not realise it. When people say 'nothing lasts forever', that's the reality. Everything comes to an end, has a start and finish and eventually expires so to speak. I find it so difficult to think about what happens when we die. My mind can't physically think about or imagine the term 'forever'. And we use the term 'forever' too loosely because as I say nothing can be forever unless it's 'our' forever, until there is no forever left. See I'm not even making much sense now because my head slightly explodes inside itself when I try to imagine us laying underground forever...there's no end, that we know of. It makes me slightly panicky and warm.

But if we all came with an expiry date, like the milk in my fridge and the bread in my cupboard, we could make sure we do everything we need to before it's too late.

Head? Heart? Forget it?

We all deserve to be happy right? But saying that, to what extent should we go to make ourselves happy? To what extent is it right to hurt someone else in order to gain ourselves happiness?

I can’t figure it.

There’s no guide to life. And, aside from the law, there’s no right or wrong. So, how are we supposed to make decisions?

I’m only 19 and so far I’ve learnt that sometimes we have to have jumped in the deep end and nearly drowned for us to learn a lesson. But often, even that isn’t enough.

I still can’t seem to gage when it’s worth taking the leap.

In awkward situations there always seems two ways out; one which hurts us and one which hurts somebody else, but which should we take? Should we perform acts of selfishness so we can have a smile on our own face? In life we have ourselves. Not each other; we can rely on nobody as much as we can rely on ourselves. No-one will tell us what to do, although if we’re lucky, they may advise us.

Trust no-one and don’t depend on anybody so much that you’re leaning on them because if they step to the side you’ll be on the ground. At rock bottom.

The question is, do we follow our heads or our hearts?

(almost) speechless!

It’s a quick one, because I’ve just got back from London and I’m totally worn out!

If I’m honest, I’m not sure where to start or what to say. I’m totally appalled at what I’m watching on the news, and appalled at myself for watching what I’m watching. It’s absolutely disgusting that children in hoodies are running round cities committing arson and throwing things are police and any general public who are getting in their way. From the footage I’ve seen, the police are just acting as invigilators watching over them, like in an exam hall except in this case the kids running about are too young to even sit an exam! It’s disgusting. Where are their parents? And more to the point, what do they think they are getting out of their actions? Is it the thrill, the adrenaline or just the fact that they’re causing problems?

I take that back about the Police, I know and the whole country knows how much they are doing for US. We need to piece it back together so we, as a whole, can move on from this heartless act of so many people.

The media sector are doing nothing more than scaremongering and encouraging further riots. They’re handing it to the little shits on a plate. And they don’t even realise. The internet is going mad with constant updates on where the riots are, who’s been injured and what shop has become the next ‘free-for-all’ and the more we sit at home taking it all in, the more we panic. Rumours are spreading faster than the fires by the arsonists and the rioters are buzzing off the reception which the news channels and public are giving them. The news channels could have done nothing better than mention the streets were a little unsettled, warn people to be safe and then move on.

I’ve been in London the past few nights while the riots have been slowly spreading from Tottenham and it hasn’t even felt like a big deal. It’s only now we’re home that we have realised the extent of what has been going on. In a few of the pubs there were big screens to keep people updated but it never seemed like an issue. This morning we considered jumping on the tube to check Camden out, where there were riots last night. Funnily enough we had planned to go out in Camden last night and at last minute changed our mind, purely for the fact that with the money we would pay for the tube, we could buy an extra glass of wine in Leicester Square instead! It’s a good job we had our wine heads on or we may still be stranded in Camden now!

Now the riots have moved up North. I clicked on #manchesterriots which is currently trending on Twitter and it’s mad to see how mental people are going. One of the best things I read was about the looting, somebody mentioned how crazy it is that people are stealing shoes because they clearly haven’t realised they’re only going to get either a right or left foot! And I’m not even going to mention the image which has been uploaded of the idiot planking in the middle of the riot.

I’m getting tired now so I’m just going to finish by saying when I was 11 I could just about spell my own name, I’d never have dreamt of going out with petrol bombs or bricks. And I didn’t even know the definition of looting.

Where’s the justice? And, where’s our water cannons, guns, or any sign of violently fighting back? Wow.

We’re hosting the Olympics next year, just saying!

….more on my FIRST trip to London soon! xx

What really matters?

I'm working nearly every waking hour at the moment; most people I know are.

Why?

I'm starting to find that the majority of us are living to work, rather than working to live. It's all work, work, work yet we don't seem to get any down time to spend the money, nor see the benefits of such excessive working hours.

Today, somebody told me they had a brain tumour. I can't stop thinking about it. I've known her a while and yet never knew. She hasn't let it stop her living her life though, no. She's still working nearly 15 hours a day, headaches aside, and nobody knows of her condition. I've been trying to think why she has kept it to herself and the only conclusion that I can get to is that she wants her life to continue as it always did and if people knew, they may take pity on her and have negative effects on the way she's trying to keep going as normal.

It's really got me thinking though. We work every hour god sends, and for what? To pay the bills, to buy the food shop and for the odd new outfit. Some of us have bags of disposable income, so we go on numerous holidays and go shopping for luxurious clothes, as oppose to those of us who shop for clothes purely to avoid being arrested for 'indecent exposure'. But those of us who are working purely to pay the bills and stay alive are just stuck in a viscious cycle, and that cycle seems to be 'life'.

But surely we get to a point where we say enough is enough? Or is that what is known as 'retirement'? What if we never make it that far? After all, we don't all reach the finish line of life. It's scary.

I've begun to think that although working 60 hour weeks to save up money for my future seems a good idea now, and I will look back when I'm in the future and be thankful that I did it, what's to guarantee that I will reach that time. What if one day in the near future I realise I won't make my far future? I'll have wasted hours and hours of valuable time for nothing. If we're always living for the future, we're missing 'now' - or we had 'now' a long time ago. If this is the case, when people ask 'how's things at the moment?' we can't truly answer unless we can remember and pinpoint a day and time when we were working for this moment. Ok - that's looking a little deep in to it but it's not hard to see where I'm coming from. My head works in weird ways.

Some say we live once; some say we have afterlives. Either way, there's no guarantee that we'll meet the people we have in this life again; our mother, father, family and friends. I'm starting to think that the only thing that matters in life is the people close to us so why are we fighting for other things, such as money?

- Live life to the full; but don't cross the line and live everyday like your last - you'd blow all your money and do everything you've ever wanted, so what'd be the point in living on?
- Don't waste time regretting things, just add them to your lesson book and try to steer from getting in to that same kind of situation again. And don't regret things you've said because at that moment it had reason and it felt right.
- Do what you enjoy, whether you're good at it or not. If you like singing, sing, if you can't sing, still sing.
- Do something new everyday.
- Do something nice to somebody everyday - you never know when it's going to be you who needs a hand with something.
- Be nice to people you don't know, people never forget that 'lovely' person they met - they never forget the 'horrible' one either.
- If you live alone, or sleep alone, wake up to the radio - waking up with somebody will give you a good head start to the day, even if it is Chris Moyles and he's talking to the whole nation - it put's you in a group.
- Stop waiting for the perfect moment, what if it never comes? Dare yourself to jump...
- Don't think too deeply in to things - don't think too much about new opportunities, by the time you've thought of every possible outcome you'll have missed the opportunity.

So far for me, life seems a series of sharp turns on a country road. You can never see what's coming around the corner towards us, whether it's a bike which'll nicely pass us by, or if it's a lorry on our side of the road about to cause problems. Whatever happens, there's no controller, no stop button, rewind or fast-forward - no matter how much we wish for one.

We're stuck in what we think is the present and always will be.

We never see tomorrow because yesterday's tomorrow is today and now tomorrow's another day away. And there it goes, another cycle. It seems Ronan Keating was right all along, tomorrow never did come.

Standard Procedure

It's standard procedure, once a year.

I can't remember a year where I've not had exam results. I vaguely remember the time where life revolved around who was 'on' in Tig and the only thing we had to worry about was who had the most sweets. That's laughable now.

We've gone from have no responsibility and hardly even a purpose in life, to planning and determining our own future. And it's serious.

When it comes to results, to most people you either pass or you fail. To me, you fail, do badly, do ok or get 100%. For me, it's all about self satisfaction and getting out what you put in. I remember the first results we got from University and I threw out this cringy line, the one about self satisfaction and getting out what you put in; this was the point where I re-branded myself as a joke!

Maybe I am a bit of a joke.

Kacee xx

It's because we're British...

We moan when it's cold, we moan when it's hot; basically, we're always going to moan.

I have to say though, it has been absolutely boiling hot today - not that my choice of clothing affected anything! I decided to walk to the shops, which are two and a half miles away, and I didn't even give the weather a thought. I put my full length skinny jeans, a top, my blazer and some pumps on and by the time I had reached the end of my driveway I felt like I'd done a four mile sprint. I marched on like a trooper anyway because I was getting a lift back later on, until I wasn't... I ended up walking back aswell! But my return journey must have been about half the usual time because in my rage, I stormed through the woods and down the road as if I was trying to escape from a stalker.

The point is, when it goes cold again, I'll still be complaining.

When I finally got to civilisation I looked like I'd just travelled from the North Pole because I had more clothes on than the whole of Ambleside put together. That's another British thing though isn't it, we see a bit of sun and we strip off; we dig out our sandals and white t-shirts and we act like we're in the Bahamas. And the best bit is, we do that for one day a year and they aren't then seen for another year.

That's because we're British though; the American's wear sweatpants, the Mexican's wear big hats and according to the apprentice, we're still unsure whether the French love their children!

I finally got the results, and another visit to the Doctor's Surgery. At least I know I'm getting my money's worth of this National Insurance I'm paying over summer - or whatever it is!

The results were useless but they suggested there was some bacteria in my body, somehow. She explained three times and I still didn't understand; not because I'm thick but because the thought of the white blood cells she was banging on about made me feel sick so I tried not to listen!

I should slowly start getting better with rest apparently but my tonsils still look and feel something similar to the size of the tennis balls I'm currently watching on Wimbledon! Speaking of which, I'm really enjoying watching the tennis, despite ignoring it now to write this! It's really occupying my time at the moment, well, the time I have aside from working and trying to socialise. I've never really been in to watching sport, if anything I'd rather be playing it than sat on my sofa watching somebody else.

When you get to my age (oh god I'm starting to sound like my 70year-old grandma) it gets difficult to play a sport; hard to find the players to play with, space to play and of course the time! It was easy a few years ago when I was still at school where the teachers would arrange teams and matches and we were forced to play sport for an hour a week. Now, it's all about the treadmill, the cross-trainer and the exercise bike. And it's expensive!

To stay fit and healthy it costs; it's much cheaper to buy a pizza than cook a proper meal and it'd be much cheaper without having a direct debit out of  my suffering bank account from the local gym.

Call me at 3am, I'll still be awake

I spent the best part of my morning in the doctors today, ew! They're horrible things; the bland walls, aroma of ill people and posters to spark hypochondria in the best of people. But the worst part is the silence.

Personally, I'm not one known to be quiet - more the opposite.

I know it's called a 'waiting room' but today we had to take a bit too much advantage of it. We sat in the depressingly silent room for over an hour before I got called in for my appointment, an hour late. Although, today was a little different because across the room sat a woman; she was blonde, getting on quite a bit and spoke more than those stupid Furby's from a few years ago. Her accent was posh and she was about four stone wet through. I'd say she was knocking on seventy, but it was extremely hard to put an age on her because her hands and legs were those of a pretty ancient woman while her face looked more plastic and molded than the water bottle in the bin next to me.

For the majority of the time I sat in the waiting room, she complained about how empty the lifeless the Lake District is, while she sat in a room full of locals. She spoke how she was originally from Chelsea and misses the culture and theatre from back there. Of course she covered herself by pointing out the beauty of this area. Obviously, today's waiting room experience was a little different because I sat mesmerized with the, I guess, once-stunning lady sat across the room. You could tell by the way she was dressed, the way she spoke and her drooping face that she was once model material.

Eventually, after all the excitement of the waiting room, I was called in to the doctors room where she did nothing but extract blood from my arm and make me feel faint and sick. That meant we spent another half an hour in there where she lay me down to get some colour back in my cheeks and some blood back in my head. I've decided I have some not-yet-diagnosed illness which'll put me on a channel 4 dispatches programme next year! But that's unlikely.

I'm still nervously awaiting the results from all my tests so tonight will be another sleepless night!
xxx

The Unexpected

I've had my first night of training at Hospital Radio tonight. I loved it! The thing is, hospitals make me feel queezy, really queezy, so it was totally unexpected that I didn't faint, feel sick or need to take a five-minute break outside in the car park! I'm quite proud of myself really and it's all for a great cause - helping lift the sick people's spirits.

I sat in with one of the presenters while he did his voice tracking and before I knew it, half way through his first link, he announced me as his co-host and it was like the Fearne and Reggie chart show - without the chart run-through and without the southern accents!

I really enjoyed it. I don't know what's gotten in to me recently, I'm fearless. I keep throwing myself in to these weird and exciting situations which usually I'd have run a mile from. I feel like I've really come out of myself, it's only a few years ago when I wouldn't go anywhere alone and now I feel untouchable! I think I have university to thank for that; the best thing I've ever done. I think it was the best decision of my life, and so far, every situation I have thrown myself in to has put me one step closer to my dream of working in the media whether it's through skills I have learnt, contacts I've made or simply just my new-found confidence.

All in all, a really good night and to brighten up my night even more, ah I may self-combust with happiness soon, it's the longest day of the year tomorrow!! xxx

A mile of GOOD DEED - we can't all say we've done that today

I’ve been down at the Great North Swim today, reporting for Lakeland Radio. I was on my own so it was a little nerve racking at first if I’m honest but it wasn’t long before I got in to it.

It’s amazing to see how people will run three mile to get away from a microphone when you ask if you can speak to them, yet they’ll jump in the lake and swim a mile in open water. Not just open water, may I add, it looked freezing and half of those who had just taken part looked close to acquiring frost bite! I take my hat off to them though because it’s all for such a great cause.

There was loads going on down at the Lake, across from the Low Wood at the Watersports centre. There was a hamster-wheel type attraction where people got inside and had to run as fast as they could and a woman on a mic was screaming and supporting whoever was inside but I didn’t get chance to figure out exactly what was going on. There were talking about times and speed so there must have been some contraption which measured the speed or turns of the wheel which made it in to a competition! The kids really seemed to enjoy it anyway!

There was also free face painting, free powerade for the swimmers and various stalls and food stands. All in all it seemed a great day out whether you were taking part, supporting somebody who was swimming or just looking around to see what was going on.

The thing that got me most was the showers which were provided, with a large, in-your-face sign warning that no showergel or shampoo should be taken in. I don’t really know how to describe it, or where to start really! There were metal bars creating an arch and there was a waterproof cover over the top, so it was like a mini doorless barn and you could just walk straight through from one end to the other. The water was pretty feeble, you could get more power squeezing one of the free bottles of water on yourself! Cold water seemed to trickle from a small pipe which was wrapped around one of the top metal bars and didn’t look use for anybody!

I found it quite emotional because people were taking part for such great causes and charities. Each wave which went in to the water had to do a warm up and then ‘We are the Champions’ was played as they entered the murky lake to do their mile of good deed.

Well done to all who took part today, yesterday and Friday! 

Kacee xxx

Find another way to carry me

My day started with a 3 mile walk – a pointless three mile walk. It was one of those things where, for the sake of saving a couple of quid, you go for the hard option. It wasn’t hard or strenuous, but the rain was totally unnecessary.

Minding my own business and power walking through the torrential rain, I passed a young couple. The man was carrying his daughter in one of those strange child-carriers which are worn like a rucksack on one of the parents’ backs. I’ve never really understood them, nor agreed with them. Imagine if the parent/guardian slipped and fell over! The child would either go flying on to the floor, be squashed or go head first as a consequence. In fact, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw it.

Saying this, I’ve no better idea of how to carry your young child up a mountain because I can’t imagine seeing a young couple pushing a pram over the peaks!

News Spread Like Wild Fire

By Kacee Fennelly and Helen Flannery

MORE than 70 firefighters have been at the scene of a major fire in Newcastle.

Evacuations took place at near-by buildings in the East End of Newcastle, Byker. Leighton Street and Byker Bank between Northumberland Terrace and Ouseburn Road were closed as a result of the smoke bellowing from the scrapyard.

The flames came from Shepherd’s Scrap Yard, on Albion Road, which triggered explosions and clouds of smoke to fill the area. Emergency services were called to the scene at approximately 12.20PM and the incident was declared ’critical’ by the Fire and Rescue Services at around 12.55PM.

Crowds of people lined Byker Bridge to witness the spreading flames which were carried towards Byker by the light winds. An anonymous onlooker at the scene said: “Somebody came in to my office and told me about the fire so I came to see for myself. I work in a school on the other side of Byker and we were told to keep the children indoors as the smoke was heading that way. Obviously the safety of the children in our care is vital.”

News spread across the social networking sites Facebook and Twitter. Students from the local halls of residences Quay Point, Manor Bank and Knoll Court rushed in groups to see the fire with cameras and many were on mobile phones telling their friends what they could see. Northumbria student Sophie Watchman, on returning from Byker Bridge, said: “I saw on somebody’s Facebook status than a man had set himself on fire but I don’t know whether it’s just a rumour.”

Just hours after the fire broke out there was a group created on Facebook with people joining to claim they had survived the ‘Great Fire of Byker’. By 4.13PM there were over 3000 members in the group.

Sirens were still echoing throughout the city two hours after the flames broke out and a helicopter was hovering over the area.

Another student in Byker, Becky Walls, said: “I looked out of my house and could see all the smoke so I came closer to see what was going on. It seems to be getting bigger.” 

Local businesses close to the scene were stood on their doorsteps to see what the fuss was about. Construction workers on New Bridge Street, just off Byker Bridge, stopped work to take pictures of the smoke.

Workers at The Big Optician on Stephen Street, located close to the fire, were worried about the disruptions that their patients may have in accessing them. Karen Little of The Big Optician store said: “The Police have been very helpful as we have a clinic of patients due to come in later this afternoon and they have said they will allow them in even though the whole area has been taped off.”

“At the moment we are ok even though we are so close, but if the direction of the smoke changes then we have been told we may be evacuated.”

Locals feared the direction and activity of the smoke. Michael Hefford, a worried eye-witness close to the bridge, said: “I heard about the fire at work and I’ve just been to an appointment close-by. I thought more roads would be closed and I especially thought that the Metro would be off as the smoke seems to be dropping a bit. Clifford Street and Shields Road should be closed as the traffic seems to be hindering the Emergency Services.”

On the other hand, some people seem to be making light of the bad situation. Lee Brogden paced Byker Bridge with an ice-cream cart selling confectionary goods to onlookers for the small price of fifty-pence.

He said: “The fire started around mid-day. I’ve sold a lot more ice creams than I usually do due to the amount of people watching from the bridge.”

Later, water was used from the River Tyne to help put the fire out.

By 3:30PM Police asked crowds to disperse because they were hindering the work of the Emergency Services.

Always left behind

Why is it so hard to let people in? Why do we find it so hard to trust people? Is it all just in the fear of allowing ourselves to be happy?

Being happy or sad makes us vulnerable. The extreme emotions make us prime targets.

People are constantly passing us by but while many of them only stop off in our lives for a short amount of time, the ones who really mean something stay forever. Nonetheless, it’s easy to forget that it’ll always be a two-way thing. If this weren’t the case, no-body would get hurt.

If we don’t show our feelings, we miss out on what we want but at the same time if we open up and let people in, we’re allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. Friendships break to make better things, but friendships also break down to nothing if one side feels differently. And that’s why we’re scared.

But it all becomes so clear when you touch my hand…

Racing to the finish line

The ‘nice boys’ are few and far between. But then again, they all screw you over in the end. Basically, it’s survival of the fittest; who best prepares for failure and who stays standing to find a way forward.

We go through life and through relationships until we get to the perfect one. And each one before this is like a test run - a place and time where we learn what to do and how to do them. Each practice, whether you get one or twelve, builds up our strength. When our hearts are broken they only heal stronger.

The nice guys think they come last. It’s the nice guys who end up settling for anything because they are only too impatient to wait their turn. So in the end it’s all mixed up. Nobody ends up with who they’re supposed to. The pressure turns on everybody in time.

To some it’s just games but to others it’s a vicious reality and pointless cycle which we must go through to reach our time and our place.

One day we'll see that the nice ones make it to the finish line, even after lagging, while the rest take a fall just before victory.

But in the end it all comes down to being ‘your’ time, not just racing to the finish line.

Live every day like you're at your peak, but not like it's your last. And, stop competing with me.

As Lawrence Ferlinghetti clearly demonstrated in ‘Two Scavengers in a Truck, Two Beautiful people in a Mercedes’, life is nothing but a competition. If I’ve scrimped and scraped for a 15 year old Fiesta, she’s just had a brand new Mini delivered on her driveway.

If I have £7.50, she has a tenner. And I’m getting tired of it.

As the competition steps up, life just gets tiresome. Effort. At what point are we at our peak? When won’t life get any better?  And why does nobody tell us when we’re at this time, so we can make the most of it and stop complaining for ten minutes?

For a moment, like the scavengers and the beautiful people, anybody can be held together; in space, time or even unintentionally. In time, we’re all as one, yet people’s attributes tear us apart as a community. The rich stick with the rich, and poor with the poor. Friendlies with the friendlies and bitches carry bitches; aside from those tag-alongs, too scared to get on the wrong side of them. We all have a character, a place, a group; it's just finding the right one for us.

Raymond Hithcock said, ‘a man isn’t poor if he can still laugh’. I’ll always be laughing – rich, poor, or wholly in debt.  

Are we really capable of deciding who to trust?

What is the meaning of trust? Where comes the point that we say ‘yes I trust him’ or ‘yes I trust her’? How do we know when we’re over the speed bump, over the boundary between trusting somebody and just thinking we trust them?

I guess we’ll never know. It could take a year, or could just take an hour.

Do we ever know when we trust somebody though? Can we ever fully trust one person? Or, is it that we only ever know if we don’t trust somebody because we’ve learnt not to trust them through experience?

To trust somebody is to take a new road, one we may not feel completely safe on. But for that person in which we trust, it’s something whereby they feel valued and confided in. For some of us, trust is something which we keep to ourselves because the hassle isn’t worth the potential damage; but for the rest of us we take pride in sharing things with our friends, family and sometimes even the odd stranger whom with we participate in small talk.

With a new life, experiences in which I do not wish to recall and having met thousands of new people, I’ve learnt more about trust than you can imagine. When to trust, when not to trust, and more importantly, when to hold back on making my decision about trust.

But most importantly, I’ve learnt:

When unsure, TRUST NO-ONE!  

If you're going to HOLD back, don't ever LOOK back

It’s not hard to miss an opportunity; in fact it’s easier to miss one than to accept one and follow it through. We’re often mislead by our minds when new doors open because of the fear that we associate with ‘new’. It’s the ‘fear of the unknown’.

Sometimes though, we just have to go for it; stop thinking so much and just throw ourselves in at the deep end. After all, what’s the point in holding back, missing the chance and then regretting it? Sure, it could all go wrong and we could regret even going there, but at least nobody can ever say you didn’t try.

One opportunity often leads on to another, and more often than not, yet another. So I guess we should ask ourselves, is it worth missing out for the sake of being too scared at not being able to see the outcome?

Change isn’t always for the good, nor always for the bad. It’s simply what it says on the packet: a change from the norm. But I think some kind of change is always good; you never hear anybody speak of their perfect life do you?

And that is exactly where the heart of it all is: nobody is ever fully satisfied with what they have or the life they live.

WHO is she?!

[Don't worry Hannah, i'll rock on down to Blackpool and sort her out!]

We all have that one person whom we can’t see eye to eye with – be it due to an argument, a disagreement, or just a general dislike. Some of us could probably provide a number of names, or even full-blown lists, of this relationship kind.

Often, having an enemy is just a walk in the park; something in the back of the mind – if in mind at all. But for some of us it’s something we’re constantly reminded of. Something that we seem to run from then find ourselves back where we started. You’d think after a considerable amount of time the slate would have been eroded clean and the two people have so much going on in life that it’d be a case of ‘each to their own’. But in some cases, at least those I’ve been involved with, there’s always one who’s ‘too good’; sat on a pedestal and too stubborn to give in. Often, it’s not even a case of giving in, it’s all about forgetting, not even forgiving, and making life easier for those stuck between the rut as if squashed between two book-ends. But I've learnt to diagnose it as the person on the other side needing to find more to life! 

It always gets me how some people can be SO selfish and one minded. How can people only think about ‘number one’. I guess it advertises what type of person they are and stands a spectacle of jealousy that one person has over another.

On another note, it’s something we can laugh about. Some people need to find something to occupy them; move on and get a grip of life! At least I know I’ve always got people behind me, more than that of a party.

But we’ve got to remember; when taking a step back from the enemy, don’t step too far! Make it just enough so they don’t realise you’re there.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.