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Thorne Snow


I Don’t Know Everything

thorne snow

This may be the most important thing I have written all year; I don’t know everything. I really don’t. I write articles pertaining to my thoughts, beliefs and values, and although this blog may present them as gospel, that is not my intention. This blog is essentially a recording of my journey. Every article I write is written with the ink of my own knowledge and experiences and not for one moment do I consider that ink to be superior. I just consider it to be mine.

Why make this blog public then? Because I am an open person. I always have been. My life is a compilation of the extremely good and the extremely bad, and because I cannot contain it all, I share it all. That being said, I didn’t start this blog to present to the public what I think and why they should think it too. I started it to document what I think and how that changes. In fact, there are several articles from months ago that I no longer resonate with (notably ‘Is ‘Split’ Stigmatising?’ & ‘New Zealand’s Mental Health System‘) because I have since grown.

To those that don’t agree with the content of some of my articles, that is completely fine. Difference in thinking is what distinguishes one human being from another. However, please understand that not all of my opinions are concrete and if you don’t agree with them, you can tell me why. I am open to it. I want to have discussions, I want to learn, and I want to facilitate others. What I don’t want is for people to take one or two my opinions and construct from them my entirety. I know that’s an overly optimistic desire, especially in the realm of the internet, but it’s one that I need to put out there. This blog ain’t who I am, it’s what I’ve learnt, and as I write this, I am still learning.


Yes, I Want to Be a Teacher


Are you shook? Most people are when I tell them I want to be a teacher. In fact, they protest the very thought and insist that I pursue another career path.

“There’s no money in teaching.”

“You won’t last long.”

“Aim higher.”

Fuck you. Fuck each and every one of you who conjure such words with your mouth and force them upon me. I sincerely apologise for my inability to align myself with what you deem as worthy, but in saying that, I do not apologise at all. I want to be a teacher and if that unsettles you, then so be it. However, if you would like to open your mind for perhaps the first time in your life, then keep reading.

I’ve always been a little school obsessed. It may have verged on unhealthy, but I had to have the best grades and I wouldn’t let anything stop me. That was until something did. In year 10 English class, that’s sixth grade for you American folk, we were given the task to produce a piece of creative writing.

I had never been much of a creative writer. It required me to see things as more than they are and for some reason, I couldn’t. Nevertheless, I wrote a story, god only knows what about, and presented it to my teacher.

“It all seems very forced and I can’t find your voice. I think you know this isn’t as good as your usual work. Give it another go.”

It was the first time I had been truly critiqued and so naturally, I lost it. I read every tutorial I could find on creative writing, I wrote with a thesaurus wide open and I tried so desperately to channel my inner J.K. Rowling. A week later, I handed in another story.

“Again, it’s too forced. I don’t even know what half of these words mean and I’m pretty sure you don’t either. You’re overthinking this. You need to write about something you can feel, not about something you think you can feel.”

If I hadn’t lost it the first time, I had lost it now. In fact, I actually cried. What I thought was my saving grace was not, and now I had nothing to save me. I retreated into an empty classroom and sat against a wall, hoping it would taste my tears and chew me up. Although it never did, something else finally bit into my flesh and demanded acknowledgement.

After years of denial, my Dad’s suicide possessed me. Without my teacher, I don’t think it ever would’ve happened. I took a pen and paper from my bag and let his death write its truth. An hour passed, a single hour, and I was done. Still trembling, I typed it into an email and sent it away.

The next day after class, my teacher asked me to stay behind. She told me of how my words climbed into her head and screamed at her heart. A friend of hers and killed themselves a couple of weeks ago, and in my story she found her pain. She hugged me, thanked me and gave me purpose.

Ever since then, I have written with my soul on my sleeve.

What she did for me is what I want to do for others. I want to take their humanity, no matter what state it’s in, and nurture and accept it. I am not naive in this desire. I know that some students will torment me, hate me, ignore me and whatever else, but I also know that such behaviour is not without reason. There is a reason for their pain and although I cannot cure it, I can teach with words how to live alongside it.


No You’re Not Feminist, You’re Just Sexist


Since a young age, I have both consciously and subconsciously paid heed to the role of women. I remember watching after-school as all of the Mothers came to pick up their children, and wondering to myself why no Fathers ever came. My own parents had split when I was younger, and therefore it was a puzzle I couldn’t solve alone.

“Where are all the Dads?” I hammered into the head of my teacher.

“At work.”

Work? Why was work an extension of manhood and devoting one’s life to children, an extension of womanhood? These thoughts fell as seeds within my mind and my brain soon grew bigger than my skull. Continue Reading


Lorde’s Melodrama Is Pure Heroine

lorde melodrama

I have to preface this review with a confession; I know very little music. I cannot distinguish between many instruments, I don’t even know what a mixer does and best of all, I’m deaf in one ear.

Why you should read an album review written by someone who has just confessed to musical illiteracy?

I am sensitive. I am sensitive to the energies of all beings, to the hearts of the broken and to the stories of the experienced. In that sense, music is the blood to my body. I listen to it and become it, mimicking the Gods that created it and resonating with all that gave them the means to do so. Continue Reading


The Handmaid’s Tale Is More Than Just a Tale

the handmaid's tale

Based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel, Hulu’s ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ will go down in history as a defining moment in television. It presents a dystopian future in which a totalitarian government has come to rule the United States.

In this reality, the world’s fertility rate is severely low and thus, women who are able to bare children are are forced to trade in their freedom and become prisoners of their own biology. For those who aren’t fertile, they must spend their lives serving men in other ways or be damned to hell on Earth, otherwise known as the ‘colonies’. Continue Reading



bleach horror short story

Chapter One

Thursday afternoons are my favourite afternoons. I push my key into the door, discover only silence and then bask in it. To be honest, the reality is a little less graceful than that but still, on afternoons like this, I am the King and Luke is free. We stumble into the house, drop our disguises and open our mouths to the sweet, sweet taste of Captain Crunch. As our stomachs begin to pity us, the television gives its performance. Maybe Batman is on, maybe SpongeBob is on or maybe even Thomas the Tank Engine is on… no matter the show, we watch. Luke watches because it makes him happy and I watch because it makes him happy.

The beginning of the news is our warning. He soon bashes on the door, expecting it to bow down but everyone knows that it only does that on special occasions. I pick myself up from the big armchair, his armchair, and pace towards the entrance of my Kingdom. As soon as I twist that handle though, it is no longer my kingdom. Continue Reading


Jake Paul and His Musical Abomination

jake paul team 10

Jake Paul is a social media influencer who admirably so, has been able to gain over 5 million subscribers on YouTube in a remarkably short period of time. Intrigued by his rise to fame, I clicked on one of videos a few months ago, and since then, I have been known as a ‘Jake Pauler’.

Located in the depths of Los Angeles, him and his friends, otherwise known as ‘Team 10’, live together in a mansion. It is there that he has been able to create an empire.

His content involves prank wars, exploring mental hospitals, causing havoc on the set of a Disney show, putting celebrity houses up for sale and more. Ultimately, he uses social media to explore modern day youth culture, which can be both terrifying and captivating at the same time.

Usually he finds a balance between the two, but his recent music video has proved otherwise.

Titled ‘It’s Everyday Bro’, which is his catchphrase, the music video features the majority of Team 10. It presents itself as a rap song, but really amounts to nothing more than auto tuned pop trash. Here’s a mere sample of the first verse:

Man I’m poppin’ all these checks
Got a brand new Rolex
And I met a Lambo too
And I’m coming with the crew
This is Team 10, bitch
Who the hell are flippin’ you?

What I thought would be an anthem of youth, is actually an excuse of a song that places importance on material wealth, while ostracising those that cannot meet their standards. Furthermore, Jake Paul uses the song as a platform to publicly attack a former Team 10 member.

And you know I kick them out
If they ain’t with the crew
Yeah, I’m talking about you
You beggin for attention
Talking shit on Twitter too
But you still hit my phone last night
It was 4:52 and I got the text to prove
And all the recordings too
Don’t make me tell them the truth

I understand that the person he is referring to may have hurt him but nevertheless, publicly shaming them and threatening to blackmail them is rather disgusting, and it also contradicts the peace he’s always advocating for.

If it wasn’t already obvious that the only thing of worth to these people is money, the Martinez twins confirm it with their Spanish verse, which I have gladly translated.

Yes, all I want is money
Working on YouTube all day long
Living in U.S.A
Anyone’s dream

To fully understand the abomination that is ‘It’s Everyday Bro’, you’re going to have to listen to the song for yourself. However, if you wish to spare yourself the inhumane torture, I will sum it up for you; It’s shit.


Get out of Your Own Head

get out of your own head

I have recently been listening to the podcast What’s The Tea, featuring RuPaul and the gorgeous Michelle Visage. As an avid fan of RuPaul’s Drag Race, I expected the podcast to be an extension of the show; a platform to talk about the Drag Queens and the competition. However, after only one episode, I have been bitch-slapped and taught that I should never go making assumptions.

RuPaul and Michelle actually delve into the oddities of life and question why we are here, how we are here and what we are here for. They constantly refer to the ‘human condition’ and how we are all students of the world, being taught lessons that manifest themselves in a multitude of ways. They stitch these philosophical muses into popular culture, interviews with guests and above all humour, which in my opinion, makes the podcast more ‘bingeable’ than Drag Race itself. Continue Reading


A Peculiar Potion


Alcohol is a peculiar potion; a single glass of it containing hysteria. My sense of self becomes one that I can no longer control. It’s almost as if the prisoner within me, the prisoner that is me, is set free. My inhibitions become myths, a once upon a time fairytale. I listen to the music, the music in the speakers, the music in the air, and I am taken into the rhythm of all sound. My body begins to mimic the beat but then it becomes the beat, speaking only the language of dance and truth. I see those around me, not as reflections of my worth, but as reflections of life. I speak to them with an honest tongue, liberating their prisoners, placing crowns upon their heads. I do not know the science of this, I do not know how, but yesterday I wished for death and today I wish for a thousand years. All that I deemed impossible has proved me wrong, and now everything sits in the front of my mind demanding manifestation. I can do everything, I think. Actually, I can do everything, I know. However, what I don’t know is that when dawn comes, the shadows will too. I will be locked in darkness, once again dreaming of escape, and a man that is allegedly me, will pick up a gun and hold it to my head.