My New Years Resolution

Since my teenage years, every December/January I would make a list of New Years resolutions, with the list getting increasingly larger the older I get. Mainly full of goals I knew I wouldn't really achieve in the following year, but hey it's the thought that counts right?

Each list would always be similar to the last, and would mainly include the following:

- save money

- meet a nice boy

- lose weight / get fitter

- get a job in the music industry

I've always been terrible with managing my money, I hated maths at school and my student years saw my overdraft grow and grow. Sure I've gotten slightly better by not buying EVERYTHING, but I am in no way ready to be 'saving' right now, particularly when I currently survive on £50 a week. 

Meet a nice boy? I'm not even sure that exists, so I'll move swiftly onto the next point. Losing weight. I think this has been on my New Years resolution list since the age of 14. Now though, I've become more accepting of my shape, I'm curvy (or as I prefer to say, voluptuous) and I always will be. I eat really quite healthily and I'm starting to enjoy exercise more than I used to. Yes I did a little fist pump when I fitted into a size 10 wetsuit and occasionally I ask my thighs if they could wobble a little less, but sometimes I prefer to scoff a chocolate bar or half a packet of biscuits than sweat my guts out running. I know of girls who cry when they have to get an item of clothing in the next size up and I'd really rather not have that misery in my life. I'll continue to eat healthy and use the treadmill when I can, but I'm not going to let my size takeover my life. 

As for my career? It will obviously be my main focus for 2015 and I will be pushing harder than ever to get where I deserve to be, but I refuse to put myself down with every job rejection I may receive and as I will be entering the new year officially self-employed, I'm already part of the way towards my goal. 

So this year I have one resolution, and one resolution only... 

Be happy. 

I know, I know I hear you all cringing at the cliche and believe me I'm not turning this into a #newyearnewme piece, but really all I want in 2015 is to be happy. For those that have read my posts over the past year and who follow me on Twitter, you'll all be aware of how bloody miserable I've been in 2014. My confidence has been at an all time low, I've struggled with a lot of things and my overall happiness has been severly affected. I've been a grump at the best of times, cried more than I care to admit and I've become a bit of a moany pants. This is not me, not at all. I'm usually a strong and independent person who enjoys the simple things and making others laugh.  I enjoy meeting new people and making new friends and I really don't want people forming the wrong impression of me because of my moods. 

So this year, I will make it a daily goal to be happy. To wake up and have some form of structure to my days and to do something each day that I know will make me happy, whether that's going for a walk along the seafront, taking an hour out to watch some TV or making the effort to go see a friend. I don't want to be a misery guts anymore, so I'm going to start 2015 with a smile and a kick up the ass and I hope you can all join me. 

Happy New Year everyone! 

Reflection: why 2014 was both the best and the worst year of my life

It's that time of year again, amongst the Christmas rush, parties and wrapping the presents you hope your family will like, we all take time to reflect on the months gone by. I often get quite sentimental toward the end of each year and I really take a step back so that I don't forget all the things I've achieved over the twelve months.

Now, I'm not writing this to get your sympathy, for the "I'm sorry to hear that"'s or the reassuring pat on the back. But, without doubt, 2014 has been one of, if not THE worst year of my life. Here's why. 

It didn't start all too well. In February I went in for a routine operation, to simply clean and fix the wound left from previous surgery. When I came to however, I was told they had discovered an abcess the size of a grapefruit inside me and had I not come into hospital that day and it had ruptured at home, I would be dead. I was in hospital for four days and then spent seven months having daily nurse visits to treat and dress the open wound. To which I am infact still healing from now. Yes, it could be worse, I could have in fact died and I am ever so thankful that I am alive, and to the medical team who treated me. But those seven months were hell. 

A month after my surgery I was fired from my retail job (as much as they gave a number of excuses, it was actually because I was sick). A week later I was let go from a paid writing role at a music website. I lost all form of income and have had to rely on benefits ever since. A fact I'm not exactly proud of. 

I attempted love, twice actually. But it never even got to that point, not even close. Amidst a mess of fear and games, my favourite being 'the disappearing act', I was left feeling low and like I wasn't good enough. Something no person should feel because of another's actions, but alas it happened. We move on, we learn but we always remain a little bruised. For the love of God, we all need to stop being afraid of our feelings and learn to talk. 

The biggest bug of them all, the devil in my brain and the destroyer of souls has been my career. Obviously for health reasons I had to put a lot on hold for a while, but if it's one thing I've learnt about the music industry, it waits for no (wo)man and there's always someone round the corner who can take your dream. 

I've been on Job Seekers for four months now, with a recent transition onto the New Enterprise Allowance. I enter that hell hole every week and prove to them how many industry jobs I've applied for and explain how I refuse to settle for a job at a supermarket, while I watch a person next to me receive their benefits despite not making a single effort to job search. I have just over £100 to live off for two weeks and I spend every single dime on travelling for my work, to and fro London covering shows and interviewing bands for each of the websites that can't pay me. I work my absolute arse off to establish a name for myself and thankfully it has been paying off, not financially, but certainly in terms of respect. 

Please, do not find me ungrateful for the experiences. In terms of what I've been given the opportunity to do, it couldn't have been a better year. I covered some of the UKs best music festivals, attended intimate, one-off performances and got to meet and interview my musical heroes. All things I never thought I would have achieved a few years ago and I'm incredibly proud of a lot of the work I have done. 

But my god the loneliness, the long hours and the fact I cannot financially support myself has left my confidence in tatters. With each job rejection email I try and smile, carry on and hope for the next one, which never comes. I am constantly left feeling unworthy and as if I am not good enough, which has brought me so close to giving up. I can't though, I'm not good at anything else. I've perfected the brave face, continued on with my head held high because deep down I know something will happen eventually, but it truly is the toughest period of my life I've ever had to tackle. 

And if there's one sentence, which I've heard countless times this year and although is said lightheartedly it still does my head in - "It could be worse". Yes, I agree, it could be so much worse. I am alive and I have support from my parents and a home to live in and I am thankful for that. So thankful. But honestly, no four words could make me feel worse, as if I am not allowed to feel glum. Let me drown in my own sorrow goddammit. 

I don't wish for this to be all misery, though. I refuse to end this on a gloomy note, so I will say this: 

Despite everything, despite the crushing confidence and emotional roller coasters I've found myself on, this year has also been the year I've met some of the most incredible people. I've gained a huge number of friends this year and gotten closer to a select few, who are the real reason I've kept smiling through everything. If it wasn't for the people that allowed me to just come and sit with a cup of tea in hand, for those who have complimented my work or even just passed on messages of well being, it's thanks to you that I've continued to push on. So I thank you, all of you that have at some point this year been involved in my life, you've no idea how much you've truly helped me and I will be eternally grateful. 

Here's to 2015.  

Should I feel ashamed that I live with my parents?

Hi, I'm 22 (nearly 23), am unemployed and I live at home with my parents. I'm not proud of it either.

I graduated University in the summer of 2012 and alongside nearly every other graduate in the country I've been looking for work ever since. I had to ditch the flat I was living in because I couldn't afford the rent, and move back home. I've been here 9 months and in that time I've had one big internship and taken on a handful of voluntary jobs as well as one retail job that recently came to an end.

I'm not meaning to sound selfish, I'm very appreciative that my parents let me move back in and have been financially supporting me through the tough times. Particularly with my current situation of health vs work.

But I can't help but feel ashamed when I tell people that I'm still having to live at home.

I've always wanted my own independence, I've always felt more mature than my years and have dreamed of having my own place somewhere that would make me say "Yeah, this is my place and I can pay for it all by myself, do my own washing, have whoever I want round and stay in bed until 3pm without feeling guilty." But right now I just feel like I get that sympathetic look every time someone finds out I live with my parents. Like I'm not quite ready to be a grown up and I don't fit in with those I surround myself with.

And don't even get me started on my love life.

I think the part I am struggling with is that I don't know when this will end. I'm fed up and I'm fed up of feeling fed up. I know I deserve more, I know I can do more and I want to be the person I know I can be, but I just feel so held back with everything right now.

With my PMA taking a knock, I need to find some inspiration to get me back out into the big wide world. All suggestions welcome.

Why are we so afraid of boobs?

To start with, let's get a few things out the way so you get a better idea of where I stand on the level of feminists. Yes, I do believe women deserve equal rights to men, and should in no way be overpowered by men in a work place simply because they are a female. No I have not been wearing a 'free pussy riot' tee since they were imprisoned and I really don't like grrrrl punk music. I drink beer over wine and I like pretty underwear. I also believe I represent about 70% of females my age with my thoughts towards feminism. 

Something happened this week that has seen my social media feeds be split 50/50 as to whether or not it was good or bad news. Front magazine got scrapped. Since it was first published, Front has received a lot of criticism (along with all the other lad mags) for it being degrading to women and focusing too much on boobies and not enough on music. Here's the thing, I LIKE Front magazine. If you laid out all the lad mags on a table, Front would 100% be the magazine I'd choose over any other. I like their content, I like their design and I won't scream at the site of a pair of tits, I just simply flick the page. Easy peasy. 

Okay so it HAS influenced an 'alt girl' culture with many teenage girls wearing denim shorts that will at some point give them thrush, but Christ if that's all you have to worry about as a parent then you should be pretty happy. 

We can't seem to go a week without some mother getting her knickers in a twist because lad mags are visible on magazine stands, or bush-growing feminists are protesting about the latest strip club in town. "Women are being objectified" they say, "it's disgusting" they cry. While I wouldn't choose the life of a pole-dancer myself, I've met girls before that are completely happy doing it. Models aren't FORCED into taking their tops off, they aren't FORCED into climbing that pole. Ever think that they want to? Huh? They might actually enjoy their jobs, and I salute them. If you're happy in your job, then frankly that is all that matters. 

It's in our human nature to find certain body parts attractive on other people. I personally have a thing for blokes with a nice jawline and some stubble. I also won't deny the fact that I've drooled over band members and thrown jokes around with my female friends as to who gets first dibs on the hot guy from the bar. Girls objectify men just as much as men objectify girls. Fact. It just so happens that the bits of our bodies blokes tend to go gooey-eyed over are the bits underneath our clothes. I'll also raise my hand and say "yeah, I have a cracking pair of norks, I just don't feel comfortable getting them out." Not because I feel everyone will slam me as a slut, it's just because I don't have that level of body confidence to show it off. 

That said, my whatsapp galleries with my closest girl mates are filled with pictures of us showing off our latest lingerie collections and I'm completely okay with that. New lingerie that makes me look and feel great is up there with pizza for things that cheer me up. Heaven forbid I might choose to show it off to a boy one day. 

We're in a modern age where sex is not the off-limits subject it used to be. It's talked about freely and everyone is becoming a lot more comfortable with themselves and their bodies because of it, confidence like that is something we should be celebrating. We shouldn't be ashamed that we enjoy it, yet we still have middle-aged mums knocking us down for flashing a little more flesh than what used to be deemed acceptable. 

Boys love boobs and that is never going to change. The sooner we get over that the better in my opinion. You don't see protests about Ryan Gosling taking his shirt off for us all to enjoy, so why kick up a fuss about Kelly Brook, (who's underwear collections are wonderful FYI). 

You're nobody 'til somebody loves you

Ever since the demise of my last relationship I always knew I was going to struggle to trust someone again. At least, trust them enough to actually consider fully committing to a relationship. What I didn't expect, was to end up being given an eye-opener into just how little you can trust people, or rather, men.

My love life hasn't exactly been something to get excited about recently, it's been months since I even kissed someone and living back with your parents, as I'm sure many of you will know, makes romance a pretty difficult subject.

This isn't to say I've completely alienated all men from my life, I keep in contact, I chat, I flirt a little. Harmless, most of it and nothing that is really expected to be taken any further. However something that seems to be a reoccurring issue, is that I am then discovering that while they are telling me they wouldn't mind cuddling up to me, taking me to dinner or something more, at the end of the day they are in fact, crawling into bed with their girlfriends.

It's not that this has happened once either, I'm nearly able to move onto my second hand to count how many have been doing this.

Luckily I've learnt not to wear my heart on my sleeve, and keep people at arm's length, so emotionally it hasn't effected me. But it has left me with the question - how am I ever meant to trust a guy again if all I am experiencing is them flirting with other girls when they're in relationships?

I don't want to be this ice queen forever, I'd like to find someone I am compatible with. But, quite frankly this experience is only making me want to close myself off further, because once you open up you become vulnerable and it would appear that, that's when people start taking you for granted.

And remember, you will always get found out, always.

Working for free, is it worth it?

There's a lot of controversy surrounding internships right now, they appear to be the only way in hell to actually try and gain some experience in your desired field, and the slight glimmer of hope for a job at the end of it has got many typing as fast as their little fingers will go, sending application forms off left right and center.

Will they ever hear anything back? Probably not.

I'm at a weird stage in my life, not one I'm particularly proud of, not one I wish to be in. But I'm here out of lack of options. I'm 22, single, unemployed and living with my parents. Why? Because I thought it'd be a super ace idea to work in the music industry.

I've wanted to work in music since I was young and after discovering I'm absolutely shite at singing/playing an instrument I realised working behind the scenes was a much better option. I graduated in 2012 with a 2:1 degree in Television and Broadcasting but music is where my heart lies and where it will lie for a long time.

I produce and present my own radio show. Unpaid. I am on the editorial team for a music website and donate my words to other websites on occasion, all unpaid.

I've also just finished a month-long internship at a fantastic music website in the hipster village of Shoreditch. Unpaid. Okay slight lie, they DID pay my travel fares from zones 1-4. I cannot fault the people I worked with, the work I got to do or my time spent there, because it really was an insightful and enjoyable experience. But underneath all the " OH MY GOD That's sooooo cool!" remarks I got, I was living off leftovers for dinner and sleeping on my mates floor whilst I sipped water at gigs because I couldn't afford a pint. But hey, it looks great on my CV right?

And here I am, back at my desk in my bedroom staring blankly at job websites hoping to god something jumps out, or I receive an email saying "We'd LOVE to have you work with us, here have ALL the money we have because you're just so great." And when you have huge music companies stating you MUST have a Grade A in Maths GCSE as well as 5 years experience and a pet giraffe just to even qualify for this 3-month unpaid tea slave job, how am I exactly meant to feel inspired to apply?

The internship I did happened by chance, after a quick meeting one weekend and I was very lucky that happened. But now, now I don't even know where to begin looking for work. The reality, is that I'm going to have to get a Christmas Temp job in a store somewhere, to save money so I can actually afford to do another unpaid internship.

I know I am just one of thousands in a similar situation, but it's hardly surprising to find that so many young people are depressed due to the lack of faith and goodwill within the creative industries. I just feel like I'm in a vicious whirlpool of unpaid work and there is absolutely no shining light as to when I'll get paid to work in an industry I love.

If anything, I'm really good at making tea now.

Go on, I dare you

For those that know me, I can be quite an outgoing and confident person. As long as I feel comfortable around a person I'm pretty much an open book. Yet when it comes to striking up a conversation with a complete stranger I may as well be invisible, because I can barely look them in the eye, let alone talk without stumbling on my words. Working in retail helped me out a little, but still, simply going up to someone to tell them the latest offer would be a difficult task for me.

It's because of this awkward shyness that I struggle to network amongst people, even if it IS important to my career and don't even get me started on trying to say hello to aesthetically pleasing male specimens.

Here's an example; not long ago I went into my local HMV to purchase something for Fathers Day. As I made my way to the till, I was greeted by a fuzzy faced gentleman with glorious arms and an even nicer personality. As I mumbled a "thank you" I left the store probably looking like I was having a severe hot flush and headed straight to Twitter to let the world know of the wonderful man I had just laid my eyes on.

I was then hit with replies such as, "so why didn't you tell him?", "go and ask him out, I dare you!" "What's the worst that could happen?"

I COULD BE HUMILIATED IN MY FAVOURITE STORE AND RUN OUT CRYING WITH TEARS OF SHAME DOWN MY FACE, THAT'S WHAT.

So I continued my life without lovely HMV man but with my dignity a little more intact, all because I didn't have the balls to just say "hello, how are you?"

It's the same with 'networking', to get where I want to be in the industry I want to work in, I am going to have to introduce myself to A LOT of important people, and make a good impression. The thought of this however, absolutely terrifies me, the fear of all the awkward rejections is too much for me to even start whimpering my name at some big label boss.

My question is HOW do I get over this? Is it just a matter of me manning up and getting the guts to march over and make myself known? Will I ever be able to speak to an attractive guy in a shop without looking at my shoes the whole time?

Or am I just going to die alone because I was too scared.