So what did uni do for me?

In 2007 I sarted my degree. Medical genetics. There were loads of jobs going, and the economy was good. Then it wasn't. I graduated in June 2011. It is now 2013. I was applying for 5 jobs a week. I was getting a reply for maybe one a fortnight. I had 3 interviews. Not a month. In a year and a half. And then my nerves took over in a way they didn't throughout my exams, and I botched them.

Things felt pretty bleak there for a while, and I became angry that I had wasted four years at uni. There had been no point whatsoever.

But there was. I learnt about a subject that fascinates me endlessly. If you ever want to see me as more of a flailing mess than usual ask me to explain just what it is about genetics. I can promise I will babble, repeat myself and fall silent at my ineptitude to explain this bright shining thing.

If that wasn't enough, knowledge for the sake of knowing, for the joy of knowing, it acted as a gateway to catapult me into nursing, something I think will give all the job satisfaction I'll ever need.

But the biggest thing I learnt at university, 300 miles from anybody I had ever known, was me. I learnt about myself. I grew into my faith a way I wouldn't have at home, I learnt what makes me a good friend and that people can depend on me if they need to. And I learnt to stand on my own two feet and know that when I need to I can depend on me. I couldn't have done that so close to my family. I wouldn't have given myself a chance.

And you know what? By learning myself I learnt how to let someone love me, even when I don't love myself. So overall, uni was a pretty big thing for me. And it was worth it. Even if I never got a job at the end of things.

Stop it.

I am not going to get over my religion. I am not going to grow out of it. I am not playing 'games' and I will not come to my senses eventually.

You wouldn't say that that to a Christian. You wouldn't say that to a Muslim, or a Jew. So stop telling me I will. Stop telling me I have have an invalid choice with my life. Stop telling me I'm going to go to hell unless I turn my back on everything I believe and make lip service to something I don't. For one thing, I don't believe in hell. How can I go there? That's not my religion. Stop telling me that my choice of necklace - a pentagram - means that I'm evil, that I'm offending you. Stop saying I'm a satanist. A pentagram is not used as the symbol of satanism. Sometimes, an inverted pentagram is, yes. But mine isn't inverted. Equally often, an inverted cross is used as well. Besides. I don't believe in Satan. That's not my religion.

Stop saying you'll pray for me. I don't need those kind of prayers. If you want to pray that I am happy in my life, or that I get a job, then thank-you. But don't try to save me. Don't give me leaflets, even free bibles when it comes with the comment "...and I hope this helps you come to your senses."

Seriously. I've made my choice. I follow a religion that I am happy with and that fits me and my beliefs and my lifestyle. You have chosen yours. Don't be a dick.

Let me make you something...

A couple of days ago I put this up on my facebook status, and I still have a few spaces left. So I thought I'd post it here and run it parallel. 

2013- "pay it forward"! The first 5 people to comment on this status will, in the next calendar year, receive something from me; perhaps a book, an invitation for coffee and cake, a surprise gift. It will happen without warning and entirely when the fancy takes me! The only catch is that you must make the same offer to your friends within your next status update. Here's to 2013 really being filled with all things fabulous for all of you!!

Please comment if you want to take part.

This is why I love Diane Duane.

http://dduane.tumblr.com/post/36243271434/30-day-otp-challenge-day-6-wearing-each-others

My favourite author is my favourite author for a reason. This is just one of them.
(The fact that she also wrote Star trek books, and a episode and all the other stuffs her talented brain has done. *sigh* Icing on the cake)

Armistice Day

I wrote this a few years ago, the first year I opened this blog. this year Armistice day coincided with Remembrance Sunday. I thought I'd bump it again.

This last Sunday was Remembrance Sunday. When you were little did you turn on the telly hoping for the cartoons, and catch the parade? All those people, in uniforms. So many in wheelchairs or using sticks and crutches. So many old people in uniform. And they all look proud to be there. Proud, and somehow guilty. And the woman, whose medals were always on the other side of the chest to most of the men.

Now I'm older I realise that parades like that, they are proud to be there. Proud and happy that they are being remembered. And even more that the people who can't be there were being remembered. And that is where the guilty comes in as well. The fact that they are there and their friends weren't. Why were they spared? in some cases, some may well be thinking why wasn't I? And the woman, and the sons, with the medals on the other side of their chest, walking in a dead man's shoes. They shouldn't be there. their husbands, fathers brothers. They should be there.

But they aren't. They are the folk who were buried with all honours. Or those who have a cross because there wasn't enough bits to find to bury - "missing presumed dead".

"And their words echo back from the graveyards of Flanders, singing old Jack Judge's song."

And now it has come back into the spotlight. War I mean. Iraq  and now Afghanistan. As the adverts say, every day is remembrance day for some families. This has always been the case, but now it is more noticeable perhaps. because now it is our generation who are dying, and being remembered. There are now so many more people who buy a poppy, and actually stop and think about what it means, what it represents.

When we were kids, poppy day, remembrance day was history. Part of that rich tapestry that so many people don't understand, and in some cases actively resent. People forget that their grandparents were once twenty, thirty years old. That they served in the war. The males in my father's side of the family have a history of military service. But my grandmother and her sisters - they helped as well. Land girls, Plotters under the hills of Portsmouth, Ambulance drivers - nan liked to drive fast until she stopped driving. They all did their part for their country, and did it proudly. They wanted desperately to help any way they could. And their parents, they had been through it all once before, in the first world war. Our parents had the troubles. The IRA, Ireland. "In a station, in a city, a British soldier stood". According to my father Harvey Andrews captured Ireland during the troubles in that song. He said that the first time he had made pretty much anyone listen to it the first time, it moved them to tears.

We don't have that. We don't have the experiences of our parents, our grandparents. And we can't imagine what it must be like. And deep inside, whilst I rage against our shallowness sometimes I'm glad that we probably never will. Because I'm not entirely sure how I would cope, how I would stand up to the legacy that that parade has left for all of us. So I will wear my poppy and try to understand what it must really be like for the people who were there.

This still strikes true. This still is true. I bought my poppy this year. Did you?

And this is why I joined the WI

Things are exciting at Tea and Tarts. Not only do we have circus school in December, I'm secretary. That wasn't entirely expected, but it should be fun. And at last month's meeting the Lemony Tart Awards for Extraordinary Woman was launched.

Think Brownies. Think Girl Guides. Think The Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme.

Truly, it's an amazing way to try and get our Tarts more active in the institute and (glup) more active as well.

 And this is what I've got to do:

Bronze Award

FUN 

Try out one of our extracurricular activities: WI Sew Crafty; Beer & Book Club; Talk Club (speakers and lively discussion); Tarts Go Wild (Outward Bound activities).

MAKE

Learn a new craft and produce a finished product.

SWEAT

 Take part in a Tarts Go Wild challenge of your choosing.

COOK 

Perfect a cookery/baking technique, we can provide ideas if you’re not sure what to aim for.

FUNDRAISE 

Join the Fundraising sub-committee and be an active member. Come up with and carry out a way to raise £10 for our selected charity of the year and £10 for our group fund.

HELP 

Do something to support your WI – help to set up for or clear away after a monthly meeting; help out with the tea and cake at a meeting; volunteer your time to a fundraising activity; bring along a first time guest; join the Welcome Hostess team and make a first time guest feel at home.

I'm so excited! I was never in the brownies or anything. I was always more interested in my books as a kid. But I did start the D of E bronze award at school. I just didn't do the final hike. Pity.

So since I have to record my work towards the award, I thought I'd do it here as well as in the paper journal. So... 

Fun: I've wanted to go to WI sew crafty for a while but something always happens. And the talk club seems quite interesting, or it will be when it takes off. This is my excuse!

Make: My awards partner and I are going to learn to make soap. 

Sweat: I... don't know yet. I'm gonna haveta think on that one. I don't actually know what's happening with this and I'm meant to be secretary!

Cook: I'd love to learn to make a proper old fashioned gingerbread house like my dad used to make for my sister and I every xmas. I've made cakes galore over the years, but never biscuits or gingerbread.

Fundraise: I'd like to sell the soap I make. And maybe the gingerbread house...

Help: Well, I do teas and coffees a fair amount at the meeting anyway, so I'm sure that won't be a problem.

So that's my plan at the minute. I just need to do it now!

This made me laugh out loud.

So everyone should see it!