Oh, This Age of Technology...

This past week, I have been without a laptop. My old faithful Dell (her name was Gertrude Von Winklehoffen for those who wish to know) finally gave up the ghost and refused to open anything even remotely useful. Initially, I was distraught, devastated, inconsolable even, but Gertrude's demise turned out not to be the worst thing that's ever happened to me... Who knew?

Not having a laptop made me go out and DO things rather than sitting in my friend's flat (my move out and in dates were a fortnight apart) watching innumerable episodes of American dramas and sitcoms and eating whatever I could be bothered to nip to the nearest Tesco for (for the record, usually a chicken caesar wrap and a bottle of diet coke). I had lunch, coffee and dinner with friends who I'd been meaning to spend quality time with for weeks. I finished Lady Chatterley's Lover, went to a local coffee shop, curled up on a sofa and launched into Orwell's '1984'. I fell in love with reading again, and found solace and relaxation in my own company. I made more time to phone my mum, and made time for friends who needed me. I baked a tray of brownies with a recipe from memory, and I stopped putting off getting ready for things just to finish whatever episode of something I was watching. I got more fresh air, and I remembered how nice it is just to sit and talk about nothing for hours. When I felt like torturing myself with items of clothing that I couldn't afford, I actually went out and wandered through shops, aimlessly, dismissing the more ridiculous "fashion" items and picking up dresses that I knew I wouldn't buy.

Admittedly, I wasn't completely removed from the technological world, I still had my trusty Blackberry and so I still had access to Facebook and Twitter but nonetheless, I found myself checking them less often, using them as a crutch less and less, not constantly needing to know what was going on in the lives of my acquaintances. The lives of my close friends, I was already aware of BECAUSE I'D SPOKEN TO THEM IN PERSON and it was wonderful. Those important to me had taken on a more important role in my life, they became everything that my laptop had ceased to provide: gossip, comfort, entertainment only they were real. My friends became the reason that I laughed and cried and their lives became my very own sitcom, my own drama. Meeting new friends was like the first episode of a new season, and losing old ones became a season finale (only without the plane crashes/deaths etc).

What I'm trying to say I suppose, it in a world where TV and the internet are so prevalent and play such a big part in our lives, perhaps our parents were right (man, I hate saying that). Far from having too little and needing more, perhaps we've amassed too much. I have been happier this past couple of weeks than I can remember being in a long time, I've been deliriously happy, even at work. Rather than having Adele and Kelly Clarkson going round in my head, I've had Tom Jones, Tina Turner, Family Guy even. I have remembered what it is to really be a friend and not just a faceless response to a text or tweet. I have remembered the comfort that comes from an actual hug, not just "*hug*" on instant messenger. I have remembered that companionable silence with a loved one is infinitely more comforting than banal conversations with customers, made just to hear the sound of one's own voice.

So yes, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm beginning to believe that less is more, and that having so much is making us miserable. Of course I can't speak for every person in the world, but for me personally, I am not ready to dismiss the happiness I'm finding in other people and myself to watch more TV or lie in bed watching movies for hours on end. I've no doubt that I'll still have down days, and days where I decide to veg out in bed with a pile of DVDs, but I'd like to think that on my bad days, I'll make a phone call, or have a coffee with someone and that when i want to watch a film, I'll invite some friends round. In essence, I've rediscovered what it is to be a social being. Infants need society to develop, and adults need society to stay balanced. I've started finding my balance again, and if I had one bit of advice to give right now, it would be to power down the computer, leave the telly off, switch off the smartphone and relearn what it is to experience life away from technology  and realise that, even in your own company, it is infinitely better than watching another episode of that sitcom you like.

Yes, I'm Single, And I'm Okay With It

I am a 21-year-old woman, and I am single.

I seem to be reaching a stage where the vast majority of my friends are getting into relationships; long-term, secure, loving relationships, not just your teenage romance that lasts a few weeks then fizzles out, seriously, one of them is engaged! And do you know what? A lot of the time it's difficult, and there are times when I feel like a bit of a third wheel even though I'm good friends with both partners.

Being single when all your friends  have coupled up and your remaining single friends aren't always around or part of the same groups can be hard. No matter how non-couply they act around you out of respect of your mutual friendship and your singledom, you always know that they're together and on a good day, it probably won't bother you, hell, you might even give into the "oh look how cute and in love they are" way of thinking. On a bad day though, when you're not feeling great about yourself, when you're lonely or when something has happened that impinges on any semblance of a good mood, it's torture. Seeing other people that you care about being in love on bad days just serves to remind you that you're alone for now. Sure, you have friends and family, but it's not the same as having someone who wakes up in the morning thinking about you, goes to sleep thinking about you, and who makes you feel beautiful and loved even when you have the flu and the entire contents of your head are trying to escape through your nose. If you're having a day where you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, spending time with a couple will probably make you feel worse, and if you don't like the person you are that day, that'll be worse too and you'll probably blame your perpetual single status on everything that you hate about yourself that (believe me) no-one else even notices or thinks about you. But despite all that, and despite the constant reminder that you are indeed single, IT'S NOT ALL BAD!!!

For instance, today I sat in my bed eating ice cream and watching crap telly, just because I could, then when I got bored of that, I went for coffee with two very good friends. I bought a couple of films that I've been meaning to watch for a long time and now I'm back in bed because my flat is bloody freezing. Yesterday, I went training, driving the motor launch, had lunch with people then came home and sat in bed for a while reading, had a 2-hour long bath, just because I could, then fell asleep (not in the bath I might add, don't want to drown... Health and Safety and what-not...).

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that these are things that you just can't do when you're in a relationship, but it's nice to be able to do what I like whenever I like and not have to worry about other people's feelings or timing. I finished work early on Saturday night so I stayed for a few drinks and a guy bought me a couple of drinks. We were just chatting and there was no awkward dilemma about whether I should accept based on my relationship status.

Speaking of bars and guys buying me drinks, just because I'm "the single friend" doesn't mean that I need to be set up (especially not with random guys in bars just because they're there). I guess I still hold a deeply romanticised version of how couples meet and fall in love, but that's okay for me, and if I don't meet the man of my dreams because our eyes meet across a crowded room, that's fine too. I don't want to be "that friend" just because other people want to see me with someone.

I'm starting to realise that I like being able to make my own decisions and be my own person. I mean sure, I have days where I'm unhappy that I'm alone, and there is nothing I would enjoy more than cuddling up on the sofa with someone and watching a film. Seriously, there are days when I'm downright distraught at how long I've been single and I start putting all the blame on myself but in the clarity of morning; who cares?

I am single and for the first time in a long time, I'm genuinely fine with it.

Well Cripes, It's Been a While!

Wow, it's been a really long time since I've blogged but hey, it's been EXAM SEASON, the worst few weeks of every student's year. For a couple of weeks twice a year, every student morphs from being a fairly rational and well put together (if heavy-drinking) person, into an emotional and physical wreck. Procrastination becomes an art form, and revision becomes a swear word. The library becomes home, and socialising finally takes second place to actual, grown up university work. Hands cramp writing up lectures, and eyes become slightly less functional from reading and writing for 12 hours a day. Coffee and energy drinks become lifelines and sleep becomes a welcomed break from revision. Walking round any university library, the casual observer will more than likely see tears, hair-pulling and faces that show nothing but resignation to failure and careful listening will more than likely reveal a chorus of "I'm going to fail", "Well shit, I've never seen that before" and "Oh bugger it, who's heading to the Union?". I think most students are aware that, 99% of the time, last minute cramming doesn't work, but we all do it, we all still pull all-nighters, we all still have that drink when we know we should probably still be in the library, and we all still try to remember that our coursework does count for something.

Some people love exams, and deal with them really well, I, on the other hand, hate them with a passion. I struggle to focus and revise until the last minute (although I've been better this year) and I genuinely believe that if more of my grades were based on coursework, I would look a hell of a lot smarter than I do. That said, usually, I come out of exams feeling that I've done all right, and that I've probably done enough to pass (with the notable exception of my Psychology of Language exam a week ago where I sat down and literally could not answer a single question). I guess just now I'm really struggling with knowing that I could have, and probably should have done better in this set of exams, but there's nothing I can do now. I'm still not sure what I want to do after I leave uni so I really find it difficult to focus on working, I have nothing to aim for just now. I guess exam season just really brings issues like this home, especially now that my grades actually count for things. In first and second year, floating along was pretty easy, and not having the pressure of knowing that every grade has the potential to affect the rest of your life... well, it just made things a whole lot nicer. I have to confess, I get a bit of a laugh out of watching first and second year students panicking about exams (apart from really vocational degrees where the grades still matter), and thinking about how they still really have it all to come.

I think exam time makes you learn a lot about yourself, about your priorities, your strengths, weaknesses and your own resilience. Personally, I try not to let exams stress me out any more than they have to, I mean, there's always resits right?

Last Night Was A Bad Night

I was at work last night and a couple of things happened that on their own I could deal with, but together, I was overwhelmed. This is probably going to be quite a long-winded post because for each thing, there is a bit of background that I should explain.

Now, as many of you who read this will know, I work in a bar in Dundee and one of the doormen I have the misfortune to work with is a pretty big guy. Now, I'm good friends with one of the guys behind the bar, and because we get on, naturally everyone at work assumes that we have a thing, you know? He's recently got a girlfriend and said doorman and I were having a bit of banter about it.

Doorman: "Suzi, are you gutted X is off the market now? Haha!"

Me: "Oh yeah, I'm heartbroken, I've not been sleeping, not been eating, just been crying all the time..."

Doorman: "Now Suzi, let's not lie, I can see you've been eating..."

Needless to say, I was a little speechless, but I recovered myself and just laughed along, acting like I wasn't a little bit wounded. It was a quiet night so the doormen were in and out a lot, just chatting to punters and bar staff and drinking juice, as you do. Now, there's a running joke behind the bar between me and a few of the guys that I have a bit of a ghetto booty and that, generally, my arse is always getting in the way (which frankly, is hilarious because it's true). A group of us were standing having a chat about why male customers occasionally think it's okay to slap you on the arse, even though they don't know you at all. One of my colleagues, continuing with the aforementioned joke quipped that my bum is a pretty hard target to miss. I didn't take it personally at all because it's all a joke and I'm aware of it, and I don't really mind at all. I turned to the doormen, who were also involved in the chat, and mentioned that my colleague had just said I had a fat arse. Douchebag doorman responded with "Oh, I don't know, I'd say it was pretty pert." Laughter ensued and I wandered off to wash glasses and serve customers for a bit. I went back up to the end of the bar and said doorman decided that enough hadn't been said.

Doorman: "Suzi, i just realised that was far too close to a compliment. What I meant to say, was you've got a pretty pert arse for a big girl."

For a big girl? FOR A BIG GIRL?!?!?!?!?! Now, let's make one thing clear, recently I've lost over a stone and I'm below the national average size, I'm a 12/14 with big boobs and a big bum, I have strong, muscular legs and yeah, I'm maybe a little chubby round the edges, but I am by no means a "big girl".

For some reason, the doorman was surprised when I refused to speak to him after that. I should probably tell you that by my estimations, said doorman is around 27/28 stone in weight, and has no neck to speak of. As I continued to work, I kept bottling up everything that I could say about how he has no right to judge me based on weight, how he should stop projecting his own unhappiness onto other people, and should be aware that he has absolutely no idea what is going on in someone's personal life, and how comments like that can affect them. I was seething, quite literally so angry that I felt sick and I was shaking. The bar closed and the doormen were making sure everyone was finishing their drinks and leaving. I was cleaning glasses and cleaning behind the bar when said doorman asked if I was still not speaking to him. I put my glasses down and walked away, still cleaning and seething inwardly. Now, I just about could have coped with that, the doormen left, I had a bit of a rant, and one of my colleagues who had finished work and was had been drinking, commented that his pint had gone dead, I looked at it.

Me: "Yeah, it's a bit shit isn't it?"

Colleague: "Yeah, like your love life."

Ouch. I am very aware that my romantic life is currently an abject failure but it would be nice if I didn't get it thrown in my face. He was drunk, so I don't take it personally now, in the clarity of daylight, but at the time, it was one comment too much, and I started crying (frankly, humiliating). So yeah, that's why last night was a shit night.

Now that I've explained the long-winded back story, I'll get to the actual point of this post:

IT IS NEVER OKAY TO MAKE DEROGATORY COMMENTS ABOUT SOMEONE'S WEIGHT.

If you're friends with someone and you're all having a bit of banter, maybe that's okay, but it is never okay to call someone fat when they're not, especially when you know their weight is something they are insecure about. Fat-shaming is not okay, if someone is a nice person, they're a nice person, regardless of what weight they are, and that should be the focus of any judgement you want to throw at someone, the kind of person they really are, not what their bathroom scales read.

In a weeks time, I'll be in France on a rowing training camp with a lot of girls who I am very aware are smaller than me, and a lot of guys who will no doubt realise that, but I'm trying really hard not to get caught up in the dieting and exercise panic that comes with a holiday like that. Comments like that don't help at all. People can be cruel, but there is no need for it. To call someone fat when they're curvy and perfectly healthy is cruel. To enforce your own ideas of physical perfection on someone else is cruel, and to do it when you yourself are morbidly obese is just hypocritical.

I've been thinking about this a lot, I didn't get much sleep you see, and my body is strong. My body is strong enough to carry me where I need to go, it is strong enough to run at the gym, it is strong enough to propel a boat through water, it is strong enough to push me 19561m on a rowing machine (that took 100 minutes and was hell by the way), it is strong enough to carry a child if I choose to, it is strong enough to breastfeed and raise that child, to lift it, carry it and love it. My body is strong, and I should be proud of it. There are day's when I'm not, everybody has those days, no matter what their body type, but I refuse to hate my healthy, strong body, just because some bastard of a doorman is insecure in his own.

I may not like my body sometimes, some days I have fat days and I hate it and I want to curl up in my bed and not eat. But there are more days now when I love my body, when I look in the mirror and don't see a disgusting fat blob, but see a beautiful, womanly body, strong enough to do anything I want.

So yeah, before you comment on anything as sensitive as someone's weight, remind yourself that you don't know what is going on in their personal life, if they have medical conditions, if they've just lost a loved one and have turned to food, if they're in recovery for an eating disorder. Unless you know them well, you have no way of knowing and if you don't know them well, it will never be your place to comment on their weight at all.

University Might Just Be The Death Of Me...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

I'd say that's better but it's not really. 3 deadlines in ten days is just a bit too much, especially when two of them are so dull and dry that you end up ready to gouge out your own eyes. It's so difficult to feel like I'm getting anywhere at the moment, but I suppose everyone else on my course is feeling the same, even the clever ones. We had the same situation last semester, and it was brought up in the school forum, but no-one listened. The lecturers don't communicate between modules and we still don't have any of our coursework back at all. A lot of the work I'm having to do at the moment is really, really repetitive, with some of it being almost exactly the same as something we've already done. I just find it so hard to motivate myself and focus when there is no effort being made by my lecturers to keep our course fresh and interesting so instead of doing my work, even though I want to get it out of the way, I'm gorging on junk food and cans of relentless and catching up on TV shows that I've never even paid much attention to before. I know there are certain things that we have to do in our course to get a BPS accreditation at the end of it, but so do other universities and the majority of their stuff seems a lot less dry. I know that it all comes down to what your lecturers actually research and what not, but seriously, only having one or two really interesting tutorials, and one semi-decent bit of coursework in an entire year isn't going to inspire students to continue to work hard and really pursue psychology outwith the safe bubble of university life.

I suppose I'm just having a rant because I'm stressed and unmotivated (and I am friends with the Dean of Psychology on Facebook and I'm not sure how he would take my ranting if he saw it). End of rant :)

I'm Writing This for Reasons

Mostly, I'm procrastinating. It's a horrible habit of mine, but it seems that coursework-wise, I do my best work under pressure. Believe me, I envy the people who can sit down two weeks before a deadline and fire out half a well thought out essay then just tidy it up over the next fortnight. That isn't me at all, I leave it until the last possible moment, I think in some ways, the pressure helps to focus my thoughts and clear my head or at least it usually does and I'm sure it would this time if it weren't for the fact that I'm having to write about an unutterably dull, dry language paper on sentence processing and syntax and find papers that criticise it. Boke.

I've had one of those days where it's actually very difficult to focus on anything even remotely important. I was up at Ninewells at 9am for an Endocrinology appointment today where the nice doctor told me that my seemingly polycystic ovary shouldn't cause me that much of a problem because it's functioning almost normally. However, my hormones are still all crazy and stupid so I've been used as a pin cushion and had enough blood taken to save a small child from some grievous injury and, get this, he's wanting me to do a test for Cushing's Disease (which, having looked at the symptoms and what not would actually explain a lot). On Sunday night, I have to take theses two pills between half 11 and 12 and then I'm away off to the nurse for more needle-based fun between 8.30am and 9.15.

Cushing's is all to do with levels of Cortisol (stress hormone) in the body and what happens when they get out of control. In one type of Cushing's, this can be attributed to certain medications and what not, but seeing as I'm not on any medication, I'm pretty certain that it wouldn't be that kind. The other kind results from a tumour on the pituitary or adrenal gland. What fun.

I get that the doctor is just covering all his bases and running with my symptoms, but I think I was happier when it was just a polycystic ovary and a slightly dodgy thyroid. Don't get me wrong, he didn't say for certain that I have Cushing's, in fact, he said that it was unlikely but that there were one or two things which meant it might be a possibility. I'm not getting myself actively worked up about it but I feel like with three university deadlines in 10 days, all my medical, hormonal crap could have come at a better time.

The worst thing about all these deadlines and appointments is that I've barely even had time to think about what I want to do after uni, much less talk about it or do any really intense research about my options. I suppose for the moment I'll have to content myself with being a slightly unhinged, hormonal student. Only four more weeks and then it's the holidays and I can breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Well That Was Interesting...

I'd never really thought about nursing. I did work experience with my aunt when I still wanted to be a doctor, but when that all fell apart, I was so focussed on how I would never ever be a doctor, I just never thought about being a nurse. I just had my interview with the nice careers man, Gus, and it was one of the first things he suggested. With a psychology degree, I could get onto shortened courses which would also allow me to specialise where I want to, doing what I am interested in.

For someone working towards a psychology degree, mental health nursing seems like the obvious choice, but is it? Am I a strong enough person to handle working constantly with people with mental health problems and not be affected by it? I'm not really sure and I think it's something I will definitely have to give more thought to, so what about paediatric nursing? I love children. Don't get me wrong, I'm not always great with them, but I love them but that begs the question, especially with very ill children, how would I react if they died?

I'm afraid this is getting terribly morbid but writing this down is helping me to try and sort it all out in my head. Much like with mental health nursing, am I strong enough to cope with children dying around me? Now I know that not every child who goes into hospital dies, far from it, but what about that minority that do? Would the children that are sent home with their parents, happy and healthy, make up for those that would be lost?

Then, there is adult nursing, from A&E to surgery to geriatrics, there is a vast array of things I could do. When I was doing my work experience (back in the mists of time, before my avoidance of revision and professional procrastination got in the way), I loved talking to the patients, encouraging them and even just sending a smile their way. I don't think I'm a perfect person, not by any means, but I'm nice to people (unless they are rude to me and I don't have a professional duty to be nice), I love to talk and I can tell when people want to talk and when they don't (unlike certain taxi drivers who will just waffle awkwardness at you until you arrive at your destination). Would that make me a good nurse? Probably, but do I have the mental capacity to learn everything I would have to know to be a good nurse? Would my friendliness get in the way and let me get too emotionally invested in patients and would my colleagues be there to give me a kick up the proverbial if I did?

As I've been writing this, I have questioned my own strength of character, my resilience, even my ability to separate my head from my heart but perhaps what I need isn't something that I know I could do, things I know I can cope with, but something new, exciting that I would have to learn and adapt to do. I don't know, maybe nursing is the way forward but how do I decide?

I Am On An Adventure...

Well, perhaps not so much an adventure as a mission. I'm on a mission to work out who I am, who I'm supposed to be, what I'm meant to do with my life. I've always thought I knew what I wanted to be. When I was about five, I wanted to be a policewoman, when I was six, I wanted to be a lolly-pop lady (yeah, I don't know either...) and when I was seven, I wanted to be a vet. I wanted to be a vet until I was 14 or 15 when I realised that, being allergic to most of the animals under the sun, veterinary practice probably wasn't my best plan. I had a rethink and decided I wanted to be a doctor.

I wanted to be a doctor until I got my Higher exam results, I got the opposite of what I needed to get into any medical school and suddenly I didn't have a plan any more. My friends had all gotten the grades that they needed, some were going to medical schools, some to study dentistry, some to art college. I had to decide in a matter of weeks what it was that I wanted to do now. My first thought was physiotherapy. From when I was about 15, I wanted to join the army and I thought "why not as a physiotherapist?". I'm still not entirely sure why I decided against it, and it's still something that I'll maybe think about, even though I'm no longer sure I want to join the army. So I went for psychology, even though the military don't recruit their own, I thought perhaps I'd end up working somewhere like Headley Court, something I would still love to do. I want to help people, that's the only thing I'm really, really sure of, whether it's in a more passive capacity or in a more direct one, I want to help people.

So I guess this is the part where I tell you where I am now. I'm in the middle of a Psychology degree at the University of Dundee, not getting great grades with little or no idea of what to do now. I don't think I have what it takes to get into a clinical psychology post-graduate programme, but besides that, I don't really know what else my degree can offer me, what more I can do with my life.

I work in a bar as well as being a student, and sometimes, although I joke about it to friends, it really does feel like I'm going to be stuck working there for the rest of my life.

But enough of the negatives! I have an appointment with the nice careers bloke tomorrow so I suppose that's where my adventure/journey/mission really begins...