under pressure.

i will never forgive my parents for not going to this gig. 

taryn simon.

i have so many questions for this amazing woman. i have already been to the installation twice and i intend to go back at least twice more.

fighting.

every time i tell someone new or old, a relative or a friend, a co-worker or a stranger about my plans for the next 18 months of my life, i find myself fighting.

admittedly, not aggressively, but definitely passionately. i fight to defend my plans against their criticisms or implied opinions. i also have to fight to stay positive about my plans in my own mind, which is difficult when no-one seems to have many qualms on giving me their thoughts about it all.

i can't expect people not to give their opinions, and i know that no-one does it to upset me, or even to provoke any sort of emotion or lingering thought. but obviously it does.

i have to keep asserting the facts and the reasons as to why i am doing what i am doing, and also why it really doesn't matter what 95% of people who have an opinion on the matter say or think.

although i know that this could all fall down, and that i will miss my family, friends and this country, and that   i didn't work hard for four years as a scientist to be a waitress or a cleaner or a telemarketer...i also know that 

this is the oppurtunity of a lifetime.

my passion, my qualifications, my ambition and my spirit aren't going anywhere. my career can wait. my heart can't. i'm not throwing anything away. quite the opposite in fact; i'm spreading my arms so far wide with such enthusiastic openness, a willingness to learn, and no pre-judgement or specified intention that i'll scoop up anything i can get.

this is what i tell anyone who doubts me...

...but it's also what i have to tell myself. 

the life of brian.

"Who threw that stone?!"

This picture is up on my wall at home. This movie will always remind me how awesome i) my Dad is ii) the British are. 

revolutionary road.

As previously mentioned, I'm not an avid reader. This is something I would like to change, as I know how truly beautiful reading can be. But I am just very impatient, and a bit demanding. So, in my attempt to change and be a bit more open minded, I'm going to write about one of the last books I read and loved. And hope it inspires me to keep going with my current book, 'The Essence of the Thing", by Madeline St John.

Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates

I don't know why this book appealed to me. But it did. And I couldn't put it down. My best friend also tried to read it, and to watch the film; she enjoyed both but labelled the story a 'nothing story', because not much happens. True, it's not an action thriller, but the unfolding of the characters and the building intensity of their desperation really had me hooked.

I think it might be because I could really identify with the main female character, April Wheeler. April is a 30-something young mother of two, married to a business man, living in the suburbs of 1950s America. Ok, so I am none of these things, but I think many of us share the same passions and fears. To be happy, to be independent; but mainly to be somewhat unpredictable and non-conformist in achieving these goals- to be afraid of 'selling out'.

April and Frank Wheeler met when they were young and dreamt of the same things as most young people; travel, adventure, the ability to continue dreaming well into their later life, without feeling constricted or part of a repressive, invisible 'system'.

Unfortuately, the 'reality' of age, independence, family, work and money set in. Significantly, the story skips from the couple's meeting to several years later when they own a house in suburbia with two children. The juxtaposition of the two scenarios emphasises just how much has changed, and maybe how much the couple 'got lost'. Whether this loss of orientation as we grow is due to the unavoidable circumstances of ageing; having to work, having to maintain a house, having to take care of children, or whether it is only due to lack of passion, persistence, love and sprit in the Wheelers as a couple specifically could be a point for alternative interpretation. It seems pretty clear however, that Yates would argue the former. So yes, it's a pretty depressing story. If still intriguing.

In one of the parts of the book I remember (it was three years ago, and I don't have a copy of the book here),  Frank is digging out a garden path while his children play nearby. They keep moving slowly closer to their father, and Frank has an irrepressible mental image of accidently hitting his son's hand with the spade as he digs. He loses his temper with the children and tells them to go inside and play. The scene emphasised, to me,  how close we are to disaster; how there are no barriers between us and any pending accidents. Also, it seemed to speak of how, no matter how careful we are, there are some factors which cannot be controlled (ie where children will play, or when pregnancy may fall, or when an unexpected bill may arrive), and thus how we cannot plan every step of our lives.

As April attempts to re-ignite the couples dreams of what marriage life could be there, Frank becomes more involved with his work. Though he consistently speaks of how monotonous his job is, and how there is no alternative to be able to provide for his family, he starts to build relationships and success within the company. The couple are pulled further apart and both encounter love affairs.

Interestingly, when I read the book, I identified April and an overly dreamy, unrealistic, irritating and 'ditsy' character. To be honest, I compared myself to her at the time, as I identified my personal emotional nature as a flaw, and I saw it as something which others would find irritating. I saw Frank as the 'hero', who was merely falling into his conformist ways as a result of his desperation to support his family, and falling into a love affair due to his wife's irritating and unsupportive nature. I was shocked when I later saw the film then, and it was clear that the director thought the complete opposite. Kate Winslet's April was emphasised as more of a 'victim', but still headstrong, intelligent and loving. Leonardo Dicaprio's Frank became more and more hostile and 'unlikeable' as the story progressed.

Though the story is far from uplifting, or inspirational, I'm still glad I read it, and I'll probably read it again. I'd recommend it to anyone who isn't too uncomfortable already about the notion of 'growing up'...

rewards.

As I trundle through readings and essays, practical reports and lecture notes, the future seems bleak.

I absorb myself into the routine of work, and expect myself to meet standards I rarely ever do. Does this mean I am not trying hard enough, or that I am lazy?

Working my hardest at an assignment and at my entire career tends to absorb all of my energy. I rarely have enough energy or love or positive feeling left in me at the end of the day than do anything but watch rubbish television whilst I feel sorry for myself for not getting enough done.

I don't know how to change. I want to be happier. But in making more time for myself, I know my studies will suffer, and as a consequence any time gained is tinged with guilt. Is there any way I can work hard whilst being happy with what I have achieved at the end of each day? And when, time and time again, people older than me tell me how 'these are the best days of my life', how is it even possible to stay upbeat when, in other words: 'It's all uphill from here.'

Feeling run down, tired, guilty and worthless today. And made worse by the fact that I know, realistically, I am one of the lucky ones.