Down the rabbit hole...

Alice Liddell has always had a soft spot in my heart, so when I started this blog I immediately reached for my Alice references, and for a long time "down the rabbit hole" was my tagline. However, I don't think I've truly felt like I was hurtling head-long into a black pit until now.

People mythologise your twenties; for some, it's the epitome of youth - you're free, and life is full of opportunities; for others, it's the slow-sludgy-bit until your real life starts. Since I'm only a year in (I sound young...) I can't quite tell where I'm at (I feel like I'm at a happy medium), but I do know that being this age is a rabbit warren and you don't quite know where you're going to end up next.

We get our dissertation marks back, and it's out last lecture this week on our course, so our undergraduate degree is coming to a fruition. It's been one hell of a journey. I'm just not quite sure whether I want to take the leap down the rabbit hole quite yet. Can I not stay at the tea party a little longer?

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"Teens don't read"

Earlier today Maureen Johnson pointed out that the view of "teens don't read" in the UK is deeply entrenched (which is a word that I now love and had never heard before). As a teenager in the UK, the stigma around reading seems to be - to me - it's "uncool", it's "geeky", there "aren't any good books out there". I think the fact that a lot of teenagers in British schools are exposed to older literature or, perhaps, not that popular literature in lessons and forced into over-analysing and spending countless hours on 'what the author meant'. A point that was raised in this twitter discussion was that people didn't want to be seen reading, or didn't want to be seen reading certain books. It's made me realise that I never ever ever see people reading in the older years in my school ( ever ). Perhaps the odd year 7 (12 year old) or year 8 (13 year old) will read, but - from experience - they will probably be ...

Expectations

I haven't even attempted to write this blog post until now because I haven't really fully contemplated the goings on of this past week. To say they have been crazy, mad, bonkers... dumbfounding even would be a slight understatement. After spending the last three days recuperating and avidly watching season 2 of Gilmore Girls I have finally realised that I, Claire Margerison, have just left school. I have four exams and a results and that's it. Kaput. Done. Bam. Gone. Poof. Weird. My last day and leavers' ball (prom, whatever you may call it) were sublime - and I genuinely mean that. Other than the nearly fainting and having to leave and getting laughed at in the leavers' assembly, it was utterly perfect. I spent a majority of my prom catching up with teachers and just talking to them about the future, about the past, about my ex-boyfriend in particular (hah, sorry Michael - suffice to say I think you enjoyed the conversations too!). It was amusing and fun and ...

Unexpected Art

As I was walking in Lincoln today down this random footpath that I've always wanted to go down but never have I came across a myriad of things. The canal ran along side the path; said canal was littered with ducks, geese, debris and - unfortunately - litter. Every so often I came across a 'Fish here with licence' type sign which more often than not had been graffitied on with a penmanship or a heart whose ink dripped down quite morbidly. Hugging the canal was a spread of jigsaw houses. You could almost see the development of house after house, developer after developer. Every now and then a person would pass me, sometimes child in hand, others bag. To my right was an industrial sprawl and here lay the most unexpected part of my journey. After venturing past factory after factory, some more decrepit than others, I arrived at this old, rusting, green-rusty-orange-brown-old factory. It was quite pungent around the area and the wall facing me as I approached had a sprawling...

Practically Alice

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