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life

Thoughts

Yes, I Want to Be a Teacher

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.

Thoughts

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

Literature

A Peculiar Potion

addiction

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.

Literature Thoughts

Lorde Was Right, We’ll Never Be Royals

lorde royals

Statistically speaking, the majority of us will never be royals because only 1% of us can be the 1%. We all have dreams, we all have creative expression and we all have a genuine desire to be distinguished from our pairs. For most of us though, none of it will ever be reciprocated. How do we continue with our lives knowing that our dreams may remain dreams and that our lives may never be remembered? Continue Reading

Thoughts

I Confronted My Social Media Addiction

social media addiction

A little under a week ago, I decided to cease the use of all social media for 30 days. I saw this detox as necessary because I realised that somehow, I had convinced myself that social media was necessary. This realisation along with knowing that life is awfully short, sent me into complete hysteria. I immediately deleted the apps from my phone and blocked the websites from my computer. Goodbye Facebook. Goodbye Instagram. Goodbye Snapchat. I was on a mission to prove to myself that I could exist in this world without social media and furthermore, that I would exist better without it.

Before I continue, you have to understand the irony of this situation. I am in my third year of university, studying a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in English & New Media Studies. Some of my assignments literally involve using social media and a lot of the theory I study, is about social media. However, I kind of think that this is what led me to my Britney Spears meltdown. Continue Reading

Thoughts

I’m Not Gay, I’m Pansexual

pansexual

This minor detail may not be important to a lot of you, but it’s important to me; I’m not gay. Ever since I started a relationship with my current boyfriend of three years, I was automatically assumed to be gay. At first I just dealt with it because the ‘gay’ label seemed a little more accurate than the ‘straight’ label. However, as time went on, I began to despise the label that I had so foolishly accepted as my own. Continue Reading

Literature Thoughts

Sometimes I Want to Run Away

run away

You wake up during the witching hour; a time you were once scared of. You pull your suitcase from under the bed and open it to reveal the remnants of the life you have been living. You double check you have everything you need and when you realise you don’t, you smile. You quickly close the suitcase, not wanting to think twice, and pick it up with both hands. This is it. You are ready.

You quietly walk down the stairs and open the front door. You don’t look back because you have learnt by now that when you look back, you are not looking forward. You walk along the footpath towards the carriage, a yellow carriage, and the coachman takes hold of your life and places it in the boot. You take your seat, eyes still forward, and take a deep breath. You may not know where you are going but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are going and if life isn’t about going, then what is it about?

Continue Reading

Reviews Thoughts

Suicide Is Fucked and ’13 Reasons Why’ Ain’t Afraid to Show It

13 reasons why

I am barely half-way through the new Netflix show ’13 Reasons Why’ and I cannot breathe. The television show depicts the life of Hannah Baker and how the world fell upon her. After taking her own life, she leaves a series of tapes detailing the reasons for her death. They all relate to the people who have hurt her and the situations that she could not escape. It is the first true depiction of suicide I have seen in mainstream media and the first that has been able to capture my grief. Continue Reading

Literature Thoughts

The Strangest Thing Happened Today

the strangest thing

The strangest thing happened today I encountered myself. I have been walking the earth for twenty years but I have never been able to see whom is doing that walking. Today I saw. I attended a university class named ‘Creative Writing: Voices’ and was forced to look upon my soul in all of its glory, in all of its distain.

I consider the act of writing to be innate. It is more than part of my existence, it is the reason for my existence. Weaving words together is a thoughtless task, one that I would compare to breathing. You don’t calculate the way in which you breathe, you simply breathe and I don’t calculate the way in which I write, I simply write. That is how it has always been and the child within me thought that is how it would always be. That child was wrong. Continue Reading

Thoughts

Gay, Bald & Ginger

gay, bald & ginger

“You look like a giraffe”, “gay bald ginger”, “Damn your foreheads gigantic.”

That is a mere goody-bag of what is said about me on the internet. The reality is, people don’t like me. I am in a homosexual relationship, I have an abnormally large forehead, my voice is high, I have freckles and I openly share my opinions. Those attributes come together to create difference and even though we are living in a progressive era, those who are different are still crucified… I am crucified.

This article does not contain a cure. I am unsure of how to open the minds of the ignorant and fill them with the knowledge that we are all collectively human. I wish I could do that but the history of this world has taught me that no matter how hard you try, some people will always be left unconvinced. On that basis, I only want to share with you what I am sure of; myself. Continue Reading