Guess who’s back? Back again? (Me. It’s me. I’m back.)

Amidst revising for my May exams (hello second year of university, who invited you and how on earth did you get here?) I’ve been procrastinating, typically, by eating my body weight in easter eggs and memorising the words to every single song from Hamilton, despite the fact that my chances of seeing the show are smaller than my ever-diminishing concentration. I’m actually blogging instead of revising. But I suppose that doesn’t surprise you. Who needs to know about Restoration theatre anyway?

Me. Definitely me. Or else I’m gonna fail.

SO, what have I been up to in the past year? (My commitment to online ventures clearly hasn’t strengthened any and for that I am SORRY.)

During second term of my second year my best friend and I wrote and directed a play (a real, actual one with tech and an audience and everything). After two sellout performances with much of the feedback being ‘THIS COULD GENUINELY BE A TV SHOW’ we’ve decided we reallllly don’t want to let it go, so we’re looking into other opportunities to send it off to various places. I’ll keep you posted. Maybe we’ll take it to a festival next year. That’d be fun.

Talking of festivals (effortless segue-way Katherine, your writing is flawless) as it transpires I’ll be playing the role of Emily in Hayley Squires’ Vera Vera Vera at the Edinburgh Fringe from the 19th-27th August. I am potentially the most excited I’ve ever been to perform a play, as although Emily is an MDMA-taking depressive cynic (truly, a joy) it will be my first time going to the Fringe – somewhere I’ve wanted to go for AGES. By performing there I’ll be ticking something off my bucket list. Why is it called a bucket list? Is it because when you die you kick the bucket and everything in your bucket that you intended to do but didn’t falls out? Or am I reading too much into this? 

Talking of READING (oh Katherine, you are just on fire today), I’m going to attempt to read more books for pleasure in the coming weeks. I finished Jack Kerouac’s Maggie Cassidy yesterday and I’m embarking on another book as soon as possible in order to aid further procrastination. I am contemplating whether to start writing informal book review posts. These will be by no means objective or professional but I realised I have many opinions on many things, and since books are one of my favourite things it makes sense to actually utilise these opinions. Or at least write them down.

So long story short, I’m going to start writing mini book reviews on here. Won’t that be FUN for everyone? Right? Right? … Guys?

– Katherine

A Little More Conversation, A Little Less Distraction

I am a great believer in the importance of balance.

Ergo, it follows that there is a necessity to retain an equilibrium of experience; that is to say, a middle ground between academic culture and hedonistic pursuits. This week, I embraced the latter with three of my friends by journeying to Blackpool for the day.

Blackpool. A place of life and frivolity; a world where those with enough charisma to draw unsuspecting victims into spending £5 only to win a poorly-stuffed seahorse thrive. (This one of my friends has learnt from experience.) One must embrace the quite frankly questionable food and predatory seagulls that inundate the seafront, taking care to remember their ability to seemingly materialise out of thin air when a wayward chicken nugget gets thrown in their direction. (The same friend learnt this from experience also.)

Suffice to say, nobody was more surprised than my friends and I that we actually managed to survive the day, navigating various trains and successfully being in the correct places at the correct times. Public transport has always been something that has a strange appeal for me; people-watching is one of my favourite activities and on the rare occasion that I discover a personality midst the sea of blank, staring faces, it is always somewhat of a thrill.

As it soon became apparent on the journey home, a woman, larger than life in every sense of the phrase, was to become said personality. Settling herself behind two men with a gigantic suitcase in one hand and a can of Strongbow in the other, she proceeded to moan about her train times. She had a loud, bawdy way of speaking, refreshingly blunt in an environment where everyone tends to avoid eye contact in an attempt to appear insignificant. Her speech was not aggressive, nor did it command attention. The two men were in stark contrast in appearance, one fairly young, the other a little older, and the three unlikely figures spent their journey chatting with the ease of people who had known each other for years; in a relaxed, convival manner. When the train stopped, they parted ways by shaking hands, the formality of which was broken by one of the men making a final good-humoured remark about the other’s attire. This left the woman still sitting on the train, their departure submerging the rest of the carriage into its predestined silence once more.

This whole experience was not something I could comment on to my friends at the time (and likely it would not have interested them), but it sparked off a thought process in my head. My thought processes are often bizarre and tedious so we’ll just see how this goes.

We are supposedly in the ‘golden age’ of new technology. In generic terms, this means that asking Siri inane questions is far more entertaining than a conversation with an actual human being, and it also means that children fall asleep not with a nightlight, but with the comforting glow of their iPads at night. In Blackpool arcades, an enticing blend of garish colours and intrusive sounds compel people to sit for hours in desperation at a slot machine, whereas when faced by real people in real life situations, we tend to withdraw, averting our eyes. It’s not really a critique of social conduct, but it does bring into question a larger issue. Why are we so introverted as people? The three people on my train undoubtedly had a better journey than anyone, filled with comfortable laughter and ease. Meanwhile, their fellow passengers sat like puppets pulled taut on a string, emotionless and unblinking, not unlike one of the many arcade machines in Blackpool; promising life and variety, but delivering on nothing.

Or maybe they were just observing the situation.

– Katherine

All These Things I Haven’t Done

I tell myself I’m going to do a lot of things.

I downloaded the 30 Day Ab and Squat Challenges onto my iPod, telling myself I would pursue them until the 30 days were up and I was the owner of a perfectly toned, inspirational-fitness-twitter-account-worthy physique. 24 days later, I’m on day 11. I think that says it all.

I walked out of sixth form for the last time after my final A Level exam, telling myself that I would make an active effort to make the most of my new free time; maybe enjoy nature, write a book, or brainstorm a business plan to take over the world. One month later, I find myself in front of my laptop in the early hours of the morning, squinting in an effort to protect my eyes from the insulting glare of my friends’ holiday snaps as they frolic in the Mediterranean Sea or pose astride a safari jeep in Kenya. Social media induced depression? Moi?

This morning, as I desperately attempted to change the television channel with my hairbrush whilst using the remote control to style my hair, I told myself I was going to write a blog.

It may come as a surprise to you that the correlation between things I tell myself I’m going to do and things I actually follow through with is not exactly high, but maybe, just maybe, I’m onto a good thing here. I just wish I knew what I was doing.

I’m Katherine, a nearly-18-less-than-a-month-to-go year old girl who floats through her day by frequently raiding the fridge for Boursin, talking to herself in various accents, and typing in third person, apparently. This is going well. I am a firm believer that every problem in life can be solved using Google and, if it can’t be solved using Google, it may well be a problem you’ve fabricated in your own head. Google knows.

Human interaction is often dealt with using a healthy dose of sarcasm (naturally), whilst my compulsion to correct bad spelling and grammar is quite frankly obscene (and I fully expect to lose every single friend I’ve ever made in this way). However, this awful trait is also the root cause of my 9:24am decision to start a blog, stemming from my somewhat ridiculous love of storytelling, whether through written or spoken word. I would further express this love were it not for an increasing concern that this is beginning to sound like my personal statement. Cannot. Escape. 

I couldn’t say for sure what or who will end up in this blog, which all sounds rather ominous, but honestly, I feel like I need to express my thoughts in words in order for them to become valid. Otherwise they’re just meaningless echoes of a world inside my head. If you thought that sentence was pretentious then you are correct – it is a line from one of my poems and if you want narcissism, my poems are its very definition. However, nobody wants narcissism and I probably wouldn’t show you my poems anyway. I’m that person.

 

If you want 140 character versions of pointless rambling, you can follow me here on twitter, unless you found my blog via twitter, in which case I will stop annoying you with useless and egocentric links. Apologies.

– Katherine