Tips For A Budding Writer

It’s getting to that point in the year where I need to start thinking about what I’m going to do next year and my dream has always been to pursue creative writing. I dabble at it here and there, start writing a story and then deleting it, then repeat this pattern over and over…

I know I have the ideas there, it’s just putting them into practise. To apply for courses, you need to have a portfolio. As I’ve never officially studied it, I don’t really know how to approach it with regards to techniques etc.

If anyone here is good at creative writing, or wouldn’t mind reading a sample of mine- please give me some tips!

 

 

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My Nose Job Experience: Part 2

7 long and painful days after my surgery, the cast was finally taken off and all was revealed. It was life changing, to say the least.
I felt low in the days following my surgery. I didn’t know if this was due to the lingering effects of general anaesthetic, the concoction of pills I was taking for the pain, or the lack of sleep because of not being able to breathe through my nose at all. This was all rather an anticlimax, as I had convinced myself the surgery would instantly give me happiness. I thought that just knowing my nose had been fixed, that would be enough to make me happy.

But when it got taken off, I realised it was all worth it. 

I finally like myself! I’m not perfect, there are still so many things I would change but this was just the one thing I could never come to terms with, it really took over my life and made me so unhappy. I’m so glad I got this done and that I can finally feel a bit more confident in myself 🙂

My Nose Job Experience

I haven’t posted much on here recently, but my latest update is that I’ve undergone a pretty intense surgery- rhinoplasty.

I’ve wanted a nose job for as long as I can remember. The mean comments from people when I was younger didn’t help: ‘hook nose’ ‘Dorito nose’ or constantly being compared to a ‘witch’ (my frighteningly pale complexion doesn’t help). But yes, unfortunately the humped ‘Roman’ nose runs in my mother’ side of the family and rather than get her lovely flawless skin, I got her nose. 

The Roman or ‘Aquilline’ nose: one that has a prominent humped bridge visible from the side profile.

The Roman nose usually finds its roots in Greeks and Italians, who might I add actually suit it! But with my very English and very pale, petite face, this nose has always looked out of place.

I’ve always been incredibly self conscious about it. The comments from others didn’t help- they only reaffirmed what I already thought about myself. That it was big, ugly, and very noticeable. I hoped my obsession with my nose would subside over time. Other body issues I had such as that with my weight I managed to overcome and handle as I matured, but this particular insecurity I could just never shake. It’s your nose. What can you do to cover it up? Nothing. 

So eventually I grew tired of constantly worrying about it. In any social situation, panicking thinking about who is looking at me from the side profile. When I’m lying next to my boyfriend, covering up my nose with my hand. Un tagging myself from practically every club photo. I realised this just wasn’t going to go away, and while I’m a firm believer in accepting yourself I also think that if changing something would make you happier and more confident- go for it.


My Nose from the front- not quite so bad, but still a bit crooked.

So with the savings I had, and an incredibly supportive family who were prepared to financially support me as my 21st birthday present- I went ahead with it. I had my consultation with Dr Lucian Ion (a true genius) who showed me an online face morph of what he can do.

I fell in love with it straight away. I booked my surgery, at that time 4 months away. 

I had the surgery last week, and am still feeling pretty rough. I can’t breathe through my nose at all (it doesn’t help that I already had a cold), it’s constantly bleeding and leaking, my throat is very sore, and my entire face is swollen. Here is just one picture showing quite how bad the swelling is.

So yeah, it’s pretty sore and I’m feeling pretty rough. The procedure went well though with no complications. Dr Ion and my anaesthetist did such a good job of making me feel calm in preparation for the surgery. I was released the same day, and have been at home feeling sorry for myself ever since.

The cast comes off on Tuesday and I couldn’t be more excited. I can already see the difference in tip reduction and the difference from the side, despite the cast and the immense swelling. 
This is something I’ve kept quiet about for a long time, I’ve even been hesitant to tell my friends and family about it because I know how extravagant it sounds. You’re doing what?! Why? Its just difficult to explain without sounding self obsessed and vain, but it really isn’t like that. It’s just something I felt I really needed to do, and I’m so glad I did. If anyone has any questions about the procedure, the after effects or the surgeon I used please feel free to ask!

– Elena x

Summertime Sadness

Summer. A time to relax, make time for the things you enjoy, see friends. Sun, outdoors, and happy memories. Right?

Everyone loves summer. It’s a time people associate with positive vibes and a well needed break from the constraints of work, routine and reality. An opportunity to finally be yourself and immerse yourself into relaxation, making times for the things you truly value and not having responsibilities, pressure and deadlines hanging over you.


Some disposable pictures from my holiday in Ibiza, July 2016.

I’ve had some of the best times of my life in the summer time. It’s a time of year devoted to fun events- parties, holidays and festivals. I have some unforgettable memories from the last few summers that bring a smile to my face whenever I reminisce.


My most recent holiday- Berlin, July 2017.

However, I’ve always experienced a deep sadness in the summer and I’ve never known quite why. When I was younger, I used to think it was because it reminded me of my crippling loneliness; my summer was spent in my room reading books and watching movies by myself while everyone else’s seemed to consist of going out with their friends and living the typical teenage life, like shown in the movies. I always used to say to myself, this is not youth. This is not living. Most summers from 2010-2014 I feel I can hardly remember at all. They were just a blur.
But even now and in the past few years, I’ve had wonderful experiences. Met amazing people, travelled, fallen in love. I did everything I always dreamed of doing in the summer, just a little bit later than everyone else. But still, I have this sense of sadness overwhelming me in the times where I’m alone, even if I’m mid- task and it seems like my mind is occupied. It just hits me out of nowhere, like a sudden downpour of torrential rain dampening and ruining my mood for no apparent reason.


Amsterdam

Maybe it’s because I still have that association ingrained into my mind of summer and sadness. I think I never let myself really be happy, because I fear losing happiness. I am always scared of losing the things that make me happy and ending up how I used to be which means I can never truly appreciate them while they’re there. 

I’ll keep working on it and hopefully, eventually I’ll be able to enjoy the summertime how everyone should, carefree and happy.

Frustration Towards the Education System

I’ve been in education for what literally feels like a lifetime. I mean, considering I’m almost 21 and I’ve been in the education system since I was 4 with no gap year, that pretty much is the bulk of my life so far.
I chose to go to university to study English and to continue learning. I’m glad I did. School was too rigid for me, I didn’t feel like I could be myself. I didn’t see the point in learning about subjects I didn’t enjoy. I was socially awkward and never had a lot of friends. So uni was a great step for me, in terms of confidence, and to develop and enhance my skills in hope of a brighter future.


Uni has been great, and I love my course. But something that hasn’t and probably never will go away is my anger towards the way creative subjects like art and English are taught in an educational environment. It’s so narrow, so strict, so against what English should be.  I hate how subjective it is. The problem is that there are always so many ways of perceiving someone else’s words and views, that it isn’t uncommon for your work to be overlooked or seen than less than it is. Sometimes, maybe the work just isn’t good. Maybe at other times, it just isn’t in accordance with what your teacher thinks. And it’s very difficult for academics, people who have been in the field for years, not to consider essays by thinking what they themselves would have argued instead. All in all it’s great for personal development, you learn so much about yourself and your opinions but sometimes no matter how well you think you have expressed them, it isn’t always seen as ‘right’. I feel like I don’t always know my strengths from my weaknesses.

I made another post about how my passion for art died at school. It just makes me sad because it is demoralising feeling like you’re inadequate at something you’re passionate about.

I will always love writing and despite my confidence being knocked I just hope that I can improve in the future. I think eventually leaving education will be a relief  …because I won’t have to tailor my writing style to accommodate others, and I can finally be a bit more free.

Too Scared to Commit

I have been trying for a while to get into WordPress and to finally start writing. I have erratically tried to commit myself to it, but I think the main thing stopping me is fear.

You know when you want something so badly, you’re too scared to even try in case you fail? In my head I’ve always been a writer, but I think part of me is so scared to consistently and actively commit myself to writing in case I find out I’m actually awful and always have been, and this whole writer persona has just been a delusion.

I just wanted to say how motivated I feel to start using this website more, and all because of how unbelievably supportive and kind everyone on here is! I’ve never known an online platform that is so welcoming, despite how bare my page is at the moment. So to anyone who has followed/commented on my posts in these early days I just want you to know how much I appreciate it, and I will hopefully be interacting with you guys a lot more from now on!

RIP Justin

I wish I had been there. I am consumed by guilt because I feel like there is something I could have done. Maybe if I had, you would still be here.

There are so many things that could have affected this awful, horrendous, heartbreaking situation. You asked the doctor for help, they turned you away. You tried to reach out to your family, to your sisters, but they didn’t understand. Your parents tried smothering you with affection and support, but it didn’t make you feel better, only worse. You got to a point where you realised that your suffering was affecting everyone around you. You thought the only way to make it all stop was to disappear. You didn’t think about the fact that the reason everyone is so affected by your pain is because you matter. You matter so much. Your pain was never an inconvenience. Now we are all left with an empty, gaping hole in our lives that will never truly be filled. Time mends pain but this kind of pain never truly goes away.

The worst part is not even your loss, but the pain you felt that lead up to it. When you passed, a fraction of the pain you felt that caused you to jump in front of that train channelled into everyone that loves you. You can’t feel that pain anymore, and hopefully you are in a better place. But for me all I can do is keep imagining how you felt as you approached the platform, as you walked through miles of fields to get there in the middle of the night. How you felt knowing it was almost Mother’s Day. And while it isn’t anything on the scale of what you felt, I feel your pain. I feel sick to my stomach, I feel like I myself just want to vanish. I compare the bubbly, bright and incredibly compassionate young boy with this boy who ended his life. They seem like two completely separate people. I think that maybe you died quite a while before your death. I think that I wasn’t around to see you deteriorate, and I will regret not being there for you for the rest of my life.

So many of my happy, childhood memories have you there. You were always there. I might not have seen you all the time, but I knew that we would be seeing each other again soon. But never again. It’s a difficult concept to grasp, that someone close to you that’s been there for your whole upbringing now ceases to exist. The very nature of death itself, to go from being a person in existence to being nothing; non-existent. This however does remind me of a theory I read about, which in some way gives me comfort. Summarised in simple terms, it states that time on Earth is linear. Past, present, future all coexist together. Certain parts of time align with certain parts of space, and they are all equally real. For example, depending on whereabouts in the universe they are, if a star billions of light years away is aligned at a certain angle that is not visible within our own dimension, it might be aligned with a part of time on Earth where Justin still exists and is happy.

Places I’d Rather Be 

On a Sunday night sitting in my dingey university house I can never stop my mind from wandering to imagine all the places I’d rather be. The main one obviously being home. I don’t get homesick at university and luckily I never really have, but I do occasionally get a sense of longing for my bed at home and all the comforts of being there. Having my pets around, always having food in the fridge, heating that actually works.


Then, as that awful Sunday feeling gets progressively worse I start to let my mind wander to even greater extents. What if I just got on a plane and got a round- the-world ticket? I think seeing constant photos on Instagram of beautiful, exotic places all around the world, especially knowing so many friends who are currently travelling, inevitably gives me a sense of envy.

I just try to remember that all of that is within my reach, and for now I just have to try and be satisfied with my dingey little house in Nottingham.

I Miss Being an Artist

I was always an artist growing up. I was always an introverted child who preferred being infatuated by fantasy worlds I’ve created myself rather than participating in dull sphere we call reality.

I loved drawing and painting. From a young age I knew this was what I was most passionate about, that and reading. Growing up, I wanted to go to art school. I could never see myself not doing art, I couldn’t imagine not developing my talent, not expressing myself through art.  I couldn’t imagine what else there is.

Then unfortunately at school I had one teacher who seemed to dislike me and my work from the beginning. He stood over my shoulder for years, condescending me, criticising every piece of work I produced. As a child I had my work published, I would draw in cafe’s and have people walk up to me and ask ‘did you really draw that?’. When I was a teenager my work progressed, I loved to draw people, I posted my work online, always received extremely positive feedback. But he ruined art for me, and after years of being told I wasn’t good enough because my taste just didn’t fit whatever construct of ‘good art’ he had in his own mind, so I started to lose hope.

I’ve had friends go on to do art professionally, and looked upon them and their work both happy for them and what they’ve achieved, but disappointed in myself for not being able to do the same. People who used to look up to me and my work are now succeeding more in art than I ever have. More than anything I think I am just angry with myself for giving up. His opinion didn’t matter, his opinion didn’t define my worth. But as a very introverted and insecure teenager, his constant and intense criticism affected me so deeply that I started to resent art itself. Art became a reminder of my feelings of inadequacy and failure. Art became a symbol of something I could never hope to succeed in.

I just hope that some time in the future I can be inspired again. It’s so frustrating knowing that I have this talent and this passion, so much to express, but have grown too stubborn and too scared to indulge myself in it.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any. Still just trying to get my blog on here started!

– Elena