What I learnt in 2010

Last year a lot of stuff happened for me: I graduated from Uni; I got a job in magazines (something I never thought I’d do); I moved to a random part of the country to live on my own.

But blah, blah, blah, greater stuff happened to greater people than me. So enough about all the literal goings on.

Here is  an insight into what I learnt in 2010. For those of you who know me well, I know you’ll chuckle with the ‘typically Farrer’ tone. But anyway here goes….and I hope they’re not all too predictable.

- Don’t regret jumping in head first. At least you’ll see the bottom before anyone else.

- Love as hard as you want.

- Be yourself at every step of the way. You never know who’s watching and who’ll remember.

- If you can’t understand or agree with a friend’s decision, try your hardest to respect it.

- Never underestimate what love can do to people.

- There is nowhere comfier (and safer) in the whole world than the sofa at your parents’ house.

- A glass of wine with the girls, your Mum, Nana, Auntie, Sister or boyfriend’s Mum will ALWAYS make you feel better.

- It’s okay to cry. Just make sure next time you laugh, it’s twice as hard.

- Just because you think it’s right, doesn’t mean it is right.

- Life’s too short to sit in on your own. Especially on a Friday night or weekend. Weekend loneliness should be illegal.

- No one ever remembers the nights you ‘had a really good sleep.’ (Campbell P, 2010)

- Some things in life are just down right unfair. But they’ll make you stronger.

- Full length matching pyjama sets are always a winner. No matter how much you get made fun of for having them.

- Not all your best friends have to be human.

- Rose tinted glasses are not a bad thing.

- If you don’t understand, ask. And if you still don’t get it, ask again.

- Your younger brother and sister will become wiser than you. (Even though you don’t like to admit it.)

- Up hill can be just as fun as down hill.

- Life is a game. But games aren’t life.

- You don’t (always) need a party, pub or p***-up to have a good time, just a pizza and your perfect person.

- You won’t have to look to find your penguin. ‘Cos they’ll find you.

- The harder you work, the luckier you get.

The harder you work.....

My motor-mouthed monologue

This week I returned to the University of Central Lancashire’s Greenbank Building, Room 270.

Greenbank Building, UCLan

 

Room 270 may not seem like a particular special room to anyone else, I mean it’s not exactly platform 9 3/4. And Greenbank building may not seem like a particularly special building, I mean, you can’t really confuse it with The Colosseum. This location however taught me (almost) all I know, gave me my career and evidently shaped my life. So it’s fair to say this place is pretty significant when I reflect on my life so far.

So what was the reason for my pilgrimage?

Well, a few months ago now one of my University tutors invited my back to give a talk to third year magazine students. “About what?!” I hear you ask. Don’t worry, I understand your questioning, I mean, I’m only 21 years old, I’ve been working in the magazine industry for just short of six months, I’ve won no awards, no one (apart from my friends and family) know who I am and I’m a full-on journalism rookie. Students pay thousands of pounds for this degree and for their money they usually get the likes of Jon Snow and Janet Street-Porter. Who the hell am I to give a decent lecture?!

So anyway I arrived at the familiar glass doors of Greenbank building feeling more than a little apprehensive. What if I bored everyone so much they fell asleep? What if they heckled me? What if Cathy asked me to leave because I said the wrong thing? The only brief I’d received from her was ‘to talk about myself and my experiences.’ What if I go all shy and speak too fast and stutter? What if I’m just so rubbish at public speaking that they laugh at me? All these thoughts ran through my mind as a climbed the stairs to GR270.

Well there was nothing I could do now I suppose. I had done a little bit of preparation (I had a few notes), and I’d brought quite a selection of Living North magazines, so if all else failed I could dish out the magazines and let them ignore me.

After the climb I reached my destination (of possible public humiliation).

The first thing I noticed was the familiar stale and stuffy recycled air. I was then greeted by the lovely Cathy and a room full of students (who were most likely dreading ANOTHER guest lecture).

Anyway I took to the front of the room and began (what felt like) my unrehearsed soliloquy; my motor-mouthed monologue. But as I continued, the experience actually became easier and in fact, enjoyable. Albeit I did start a tad fast, but as I found my rhythm I think I quite got into it.

I talked about work placements, my University life, my job application process and finally my role at Living North. My biggest fear was that I would sound egotistical and a little self obsessed. After all I was talking solely about myself. But hopefully my honesty and my matter-of-factness in that I was not the best writer or the best anything –  I simply worked my socks off – shadowed and removed any trace my ego slipping in.

I hope the students in front of me didn’t mistake my pride for bragging. And I really hope they took something from my experiences, even if though they’re nothing on the tales on Snow or the advice from Street-Porter. If nothing else I hope they took even the smallest glimmer of hope from my maybe not wise, but enthusiastic words. Because there’s one thing everybody should believe in: The harder you work….the luckier you get. FACT.

Blogging on my Blackberry!

Well, well, wordpress for Blackberry! I am impressed! Although it would be quite nice to know how to actually view it?! And advice?

Poor blogger….I know

Just a quick post to apologise for my lack of presence in the blogosphere, but a holiday to Marbella, being very busy at work, and a new found obsession with running have hindered my commitment.  Things should however slow down soon and I’ll be right back on it! Promise.

You don’t need a sizeable shell.

Today the BBC picked up on a study that claims once you become attached, you lose some of your close friends.

But is this really true? For me, I can honestly say my relationship status has had no affect on who I class as my inner-circle; my shell. There are some people of course, who enter a whirlwind of passion and become blind to anything going on outside the heavily concentrated cloud of twosome-ness that surrounds them. From experience though, it’s usually these whirlwind-type romances that end as quickly as they started and the friends that were once cast aside, are suddenly back in the picture.

But for me, I’ve kept my circle complete, and do you know why? Because it wasn’t very big to start with. I’m not saying I’m a loner, who dreams of a big circle of friends, because I do have plenty. But I’m talking about the shell each and everyone of us needs; the shell that doesn’t crack when times are hard.

School, uni, jobs, boyfriends…they all put pressure on the shell, but a true shell, a shell that’s made of the proper stuff (those of you with your own shell will know what I mean) doesn’t crack, and doesn’t shrink. But being inside the shell isn’t enough, to have this ‘true shell,’ you have to also be part of your shell’s shell. So if you’ve got 10 people in your shell – you’re part of 10 shells. (Yeah, you get the idea.)

It really doesn’t matter the size of your shell, because a shell never breaks. So, like me, if your shell’s not particularly big, don’t worry. Because the chances are it’s made of all the right stuff.

There’s always one KH.

For some reason, tonight I stupidly decided to return to the Armed Forces Fitness training session I took part in last week in Harrogate for work (I was asked to take part in an hour-long fitness class ran by army professionals.) And considering it’s taken a whole week for my abdominals to forgive me, it seems a week is also long enough for my brain to forget how torturous the experience actually is.

An Armed Forces Fitness class in action

But instead of giving you a blow-by-blow or more appropriately a huff-by-puff account of how the session works (pick up the Autumn issue of Living North magazine to read exactly how I got on and how I was out-ran, out sit-upped, out press-upped – you get the picture – by people twice my age), I feel there’s something else – equally as interesting – worth talking about. And that’s KH.

KH is always there. In the queue at the supermarket, in a lecture with his hand up, in a public place talking too loud on a mobile phone, floating around the  pub on a Friday night because everyone is trying to ignore him, on the table next to you in McDonald’s chewing his double cheeseburger a little too loud, AT THE FRONT OF THE PACK AT AN ARMY FITNESS CLASS CHIRPING AWAY WHILST SHOWING OFF.

You know exactly who I mean don’t you? Well tonight KH was every bit a KH acting in his typical KH-ish ways. He ran too fast when we were meant to be jogging, finished every exercise first because he’s obviously only done seven burpees rather than ten and laughed inappropriately loud at the instructor’s average jokes.

I’m always quite fascinated by KH, but I never know whether his arrogance is because of his sheer unawareness of social norms, or because he actually thinks he’s God’s gift to the rest of us.

One thing’s for sure though, when I overtook KH on our ten millionth (okay third) hill run, as he slowly slid down the pack like the loser in snakes and ladders, I sure made him aware of it.

All for a good cause. Javan Liam and the PPR foundation.

This afternoon I received a phonecall off my editor asking if I would make an appearance at Harrogate photographer Javan Liam’s latest exhibition, ‘la femme,’ on his behalf. It was taking place from 7.30pm at the beautiful Ripley Castle, but aside from the stunning photography, the evening was taking place in conjunction with Pammie Roberts’s inspiring charity, The PPR Foundation. The charity was launched in September 2009, after Pammie’s husband died of a brain tumour, with an aim to raise £1 million for brain tumour research by 2015.

Example from 'la femme.' By Javan Liam

Another example from 'le femme.' By Javan Liam

I arrived at the exhibition warmly welcomed by volunteers from the foundation, and as I entered the fabulous grounds of castle, I couldn’t help but feel slightly taken aback by the beautifully lit-up garden, complemented by the soft (and beautiful) sound of Michael Buble playing in the background.

I meandered in and out of the photography and admired the work on display. I really am in awe of such creativity when it comes to art (even though I don’t always quite get the meanings of such work). One thing however, that often makes me a little uneasy is understanding the average length of time one should stand admiring one piece of work?! Finding the acceptable time period, one of which isn’t so long you start to look like you’re going to steal it, or too short in that you’re actually being insulting is a challenge. Is there an unwritten rule for how long one look should take?!

I also met some lovely people, including Pammie and Javan, and felt the whole evening was a credit to them both.

A belated bounce onto the blogging bandwagon

So I set up this blog back in April, during a 15 minute ‘break’ from revising for my Public Affairs exam. I’d been meaning to do it for a fair while, but other things always seemed more important, whether it be shorthand, coursework or the latest issue of Marie Claire dropping through my student house letterbox. But in all truth, when I did find the time to sit down and enter the blogosphere, I was hesitant. Reluctant in fact. So even when I got round to having my first post (Undecided voter…), I really wasn’t convinced. (Hence it now being five months since I returned).

Because for me, bloggers were self-important opinionists who enjoyed nothing more than to self-indulge in their own regurgitated thoughts. Or they were ‘citizen journalists,’ so often referred to as ‘the enemy’ during my lectures.

But after inspiration from a number of things, including a thoroughly entertaining and thought provoking blog titled The Importance of being Oreo, the author of which is my good friend and fellow journo Natalie Corner, I decided to join in. After all, I realised that indulging in my own thoughts is something I already do, pretty much all the time: I keep a diary; I daydream; I wish; I fantasise; I judge news; I write features; I write reviews; I always imagine plots for future ‘best-seller’ novels in my head. So why not embrace these inherent traits of mine in 21st century style…. and blog.

So I’m going to welcome myself into this sphere (first sign of self-importance maybe?!), and allow everyone else to indulge in what’s going on in the life of a rookie journo.

Undecided voter…..? Maybe it’s a good thing

Okay, so I’m 20-years-old and therefore a first time voter. For the last year I’ve known who I’m going to vote for, but now, when it comes down to it, I think I’m undecided, because quite frankly I don’t know whether to pick the policies I agree with, or the person.

Is this bad? Wrong even?! I don’t know, but as the 6 May approaches, each day I’m switching!

So maybe I’m naive – my friends have always told me this – as I tend believe whatever comes out of someone’s mouth. But right now I’m confused, and I don’t think I’m alone.

A lot of people my age have their views, very strong views in fact. As a third year journalism student you can imagine the opinionated bunch I spend my days with. But honestly, I do believe many of these big views are quite probably mirrors of their middle class parents.

As journalists we’re meant to be open-minded, objective individuals who inhale the events around us and exhale an explanation. And this is another reason why I will wait right up to May 5 to decide my vote. I want to breathe in every policy and every inch of each manifesto before I decide where I’m putting my cross.