happy

Hold up! She's back! and in between the coughing and spluttering and complaining about *how ill I am*, I thought I'd throw some updates.
Today has been the first day, in the entirety of my Oxford life, that I've just lain in bed. And watched RuPaul on repeat. Its actually been kind of lonely and dull and I've been feeling really very sorry for myself (but it has meant I could FaceTime some of my no.1 babes), and even more frustrating because I had an essay due at 4pm. Which I obviously have not handed in. But the tutorial is 1-on-1, so I really can't bullshit about Sufi missionaries. I'm not quite sure how I'll tackle that.
In reality, telling myself to stop has been hard. I have tried to work several times, contemplated walking into college to see my friends, working in a cafe. But I've been told by at least 5 people that I need to stay in bed, and 2 have even banned me from the pub tomorrow night.
It's a bizarre mix of punitive/toxic self-expectations to be pushing, driving, working all the time, and just being really so very happy that I want to embody and breathe the happiness and fun all the time. I want to do everything, every second of every day. This place, these people, and the autumn sun as it ignites the sandstone, and the cold river at 6am, and the frantic, relentless, essays, and the lack of tears because nothing could dampen this happiness.


This is not a very november-esque moodboard, that's for sure.

Some fuckin' brilliant things I've done, eaten, seen, read. Life, ah.

a surprise letter from my friend in Jordan
booking flights to see said friend
a cello concert
a night collaging and drinking g&ts
support for doin' the right thing, taking on the wrong
art galleries and museums, with friends, alone, with family
beautiful blue skies
feminist soc and its success; empowering, supporting, intelligent women*
running because it makes me feel free
just rlly fuckin' good people
the meadows
a day off
my best friend living next door
stimulating, challenging tutorials; essays read+written in 3 days
world history, because it's apparently my ting
granola + peanut butter
letters
feeling really very loved
a rlly good meal i made of dahl nd naan
postcards
not rlly thinking about food, and being grateful for it

But I am also dreaming, just a little, of an evening by the fire, with a home made mince pie, my cat and some wool and gang knitting. She is simultaneously 20-never-stopping-party-popping, and 70, with my knitting and cats.

what's been good for you guys?
I just accidentally opened my notes for the essay I haven't done. And felt a bit sick. I just know it means I'll be behind for next weeks, eek!

(pics are from: @woolandthegang, @yinshadowz (captioned 'there is a universe inside of men <3),  @ashmoleanmuseum, @clemence_gouy,  @komo.sis, @charlotte.ager, @analogbynat, @anne.art,  @bmseventh)

on love and other things


Breathe!

The return back to uni started a little turbulently (anxiety/change/intensity), but I'm into the groove, and fuck man! I forgot how beautiful this place is. Its been ridiculously busy and academically rigorous, but I suppose that goes without saying.
Either way, she is thriving.
Even without love.
This is a big topic of thought at the moment. Which perhaps reflects how little else I have to worry about (even deadlines moved 24 hours earlier didn't induce that much panic). But its a big thought at the moment.
My best friends here are in relationships, and after some drunken bitterness last year (not! cool!), i'm getting into the groove of being alone, and being around everyone else not being alone. 
I do think it isn't spoken about that much, all tied in with that taboo of loneliness. I'm not lonely, fuck me, if I had to delegate any more time or energy I think I might implode. But it is very real.
So let's get the facts right. Sometimes I rlly do internalise my non-loving-ness, I question what is wrong with me, analyse faults and flaws, and compare relentlessly. This especially happens when I'm drunk, and stressed, and storm home alone and have a lot of answering to do the next day. One of the fundamental factors in me being tucked up in bed tonight, and not on the dance floor.
I remember reading a blogpost by someone I used to follow relentlessly that said she thought a relationship would fix her, that her insecurities and worries would dissipate because this one thing she'd been told to pursue eternally had happened. But it doesn't fuckin' work like that, and that's something I'm trying to tell myself.
And sometimes I do feel really bitter when my friends are with their boy/girl friends, and I'm in the library, or bed, or out with platonic (amazing) friends, and it winds me up and makes me feel sad and quiet. But it shouldn't be like that.
So lets unpack this. I don't want to deny these feelings. They're real, and I know I'm not the only one who feels them deeply. Feeling unloved, or unapproachable, or exaggerating and validating my flaws is a justifiable and reasonable reaction when, throughout my formative years, it has been an unquestioned trajectory. It's justifiable, but it doesn't mean its right. And it certainly doesn't bring out my best traits.
There are a lot of fuckin amazing things. I'm unaccountable, and independent, and can dedicate my time and energy to the internal. I put energy into other friends and people, when I see their circles diminishing. And its not that these things can't happen when you're in a relationship, but they're awesome when you're single.
So its not okay to be bitter or angry. Even though that is how I am feeling as I write this. Understand where the bitterness comes from. Write it in your journal, or rant about it to your other single friends, but don't (and I mean don't!!) take it out on your loved-up gang. And challenge the internalised insecurity. Work on self-love and independence, so when and if it does happen, it compliments and not completes. And challenge the capitalist rhetoric that you are not enough on your own. Because boy we are, and we're going to change the world this way.
fall in love with yourself, but with patience, compassion and respect to your own journey 
we should accept, with good grace and a touch of dark humour, that life simply gives us few opportunities to be totally content 
leap and the net will appear
**
Peace, sisters!
Today is a bit sad. Mostly because my arm hurts, which my friends were laughing at me for. I think its from pilates.
Don't you find when you have a bad day, remembering the good bits is really fuckin hard. But there's been too many good bits to document. I'm going to write in my journal, let my head catch up. And then put some ear plugs in (because my walls are t-h-i-n) and sleep, and feel relieved in the morning that I didn't go out.

feminist books

This is the majority of the books I am taking away with me this term. I have a few more academic ones that didn't make the photographic cut, mostly because they're mightily unaesthetic.
Some of these I'll get time to read, others are for reference, and some are for decoration. Not in a vain, Thatcher Wine kind of way, but as books that I love and that comfort me by sitting on my shelf. 


This year, me and some ace friends are setting up Oxford's inaugural (?) feminist society, and as part of it, we are having a termly book club, which I'm really very excited for. The list of books is insane, and has got me exploring empowering texts about the female* experience and how we can strive for further equality. 
Many of these are on my to-read, and I am hoping to treat them almost academically. Taking notes folding pages, photographing passages, you know. 
So here goes!

The Guilty-Feminist, Deborah Francis White 
This podcast, along with my friend Ellen, offered my initial entry into feminism. I adore its humour and candidness, but no doubt you've all heard it before. I did, undeniably, exclaim some annoyance whilst reading it on the beach, I ultimately found her collection informative and inspiring.  Its very much a guide on how to be a 21st century feminist, which I found slightly noughties self-help (a dated 'you can be the best in the boardroom just by saying yes!' account), and sometimes she over qualifies and justifies her opinions with 'this isn't all women', 'this isn't all men' etc. Important, but when done repeatedly can dilute the essence of an argument. I was also not entirely sold on the dominant, gregarious, borderline-rude personas encouraged (i.e. don't apologise, say no with no justification) but its simplistic and relatable approach is amazing. It makes everyone feel included, and reassures that there is no right way. V useful when you're trying to navigate intersectionality and representation, and doing it with upmost respect.

Vagina, Naomi Wolf
Now this book I am excited for. Mostly because of its abrupt, unapologetic title. Man, I can't wait to read it on the bus. Naomi Wolf is a celebrated 3rd-wave feminist, rising to prominence after her 'The Beauty Myth' was published in 1991. This radical book explores female sexuality and the female anatomy, through considerations of the vagina and its connections to the consciousness. Its inspired by personal experience and medical difficulties, encouraging Wolf to find answers. It has been suggested that this work is very cis-focussed, and perhaps reinforces biological gender determinism, which I can certainly appreciate from the blurb. I shall be interested to read it both in relation to my cis-gendered position, and how it considers or neglects the trans experience. 

The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir
A seminal and ground-breaking feminist text, bought by my best friend for my birthday. He addressed the first page: to the most brilliant and sophisticated feminist I know, a monumental scholarly work ready to be analysed and deconstructed. Can't wait to hear how 'controversial' and 'challenging' you'll find this book. So really, I have to read it. 
De Beauvoir, and this book, were considered the trigger of 2nd wave feminism, recognising women's cultural and political inequalities as being inextricably linked. It attempts to confront historical female oppression, and originates the subordinate position in the perception of female as 'other'. A lot has changed in feminist thought and gender conception since this was published, so I'm intrigued to see the contemporary ideas; those that have lasted, influenced, and those that have dated. Its also fuckin' massive and intimidating, so I will no doubt be assigning myself short segments to digest as I choose. 

Argonauts, Maggie Nelson
This is a genre-rejecting work recommended by the most literary person I know. It sounds unusual and captivating, exploring gender, sexuality, marriage and family through a combination of Nelson's personal experience and epochal theory. To me, this seems one of those books that you can neither explain nor appreciate without having read it, but knowing my friend's other suggestions, it'll be both poetic and provoking. I can't wait. 

We should all be feminists, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 
Admittedly, I didn't find this ground breaking, and it told me little I didn't already believe or know. But it is 20 minutes of concise and cogent explanation of the role and importance of feminism in the modern world. Perfect for new comers or those who, like me, still feel woefully uneducated.
'I know a woman who has the same degree and same job as her husband. When they get back from work, she does most of the house-work...but what struck me was that whenever he changed the baby's nappy, she said thank you to him'. I see this e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e, why do we almost apologetically thank men for doing what needs to be done. 

Really, I am quite ignorant. I wish I knew what I was talking about; I'm trying to find my way in this overwhelming world, often feeling a bit behind and a bit lost. I'm too scared to voice my opinions in case they'll be wrong, upset someone, or neglect representation. But gradually I am trying to forge confidence. I also want to make my reading more diverse, from a wider range of authors of varying backgrounds. Something I've become really aware of recently is how white my bookshelves are. So any recommendations of any literature by bme authors, please send them my way!

summer and second year

Summer is officially done, in case you didn't know.
Everyone has gone back to uni (except me), its dark by 7pm and I've started wearing pyjama bottoms.
It was a good one: warm, busy, long, relaxing, exciting. I read a lot, swam a lot, worked a lot, saw a lot of good friends and went to a lot of lovely places.


Some notable highlights, although so much of it was lovely, include:
finishing my last exam, being trashed by my bffs, drinking prosecco and swimming in the river
days running errands and reading and making spontaneous plans because I could
working 14 hour shifts, because they were horrific but funny and with a very dear friend
the most beautiful pre-birthday walk with my mum and dad, with beaches and wild flowers and crab sandwiches
a snatched birthday lunch in manchester, catching up with vassia
walks and coffee with my oldest friend, trying to soothe her pain (eternally proud of this g)
a warm languid day on the beach, with berries and laughter
some stunning and fulfilling runs
Italian sunrises, sunsets and devouring books in less than a day
reading under olive trees
a last minute trip to Durham
drinking coffee and reading in bed
swimming in the north sea at sunset
eating fish and chips, also at the beach, and also at sunset
picking blackberries
drinking kolsch and exploring churches
riding my bike
eating hummus and drinking g&ts on a portuguese balcony
floating in the sea
coffee with dalal
a blissful slow breakfast in a friend's garden in Oxford, with coffee and reassurance

Its been a long, lucky summer. When I haven't been somewhere near the sea, in the sun or with my friends, I've been on the front step reading, day dreaming at work, spending time with family, or perhaps somewhere near a library. I didn't realise I need so much recuperation, and feel very full of good places and beautiful sights.
Next week, I return to Oxford. Both apprehension and excitement prevail. Apprehension because academia, intensity, all my friends being in relationships (rip), change. I'm quite used to this life where I disappear on holiday, go to work, read and not much else. But I am also excited, I really am. I need to inject some youth into my reading, knitting, cake baking life. I'm looking forward to decorating my room, running in the meadows, going to the pub, debating, swooning, dressing up, reading. I've got a lot of projects too, which will be stimulating/interesting/exciting.

Scholarly girl autumn, hit me. I'm going into 2nd year hoping for positive food attitudes, maintained eco dedication (plastic free shampoo, fruit and veg markets), time to read fiction and a full immersion in all parts of oxford life.
I also really wanted to use my film pics for this post, but boots has stopped developing them >:(
Peace!

musings: Leonard Cohen (Suzanne, Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye, So long, Marianne), The High Low (any episode, the one with Deborah Francis White is rlly gd), Diary of an Oxygen (an uncomfortable but thought provoking read), this exhibition


golden friends

here's some pic of a really fuckin' nice week I had with one of my bffs. They are quite irrelevant to the words, but be assured the 4 days were spent eating, drinking, swimming, chatting, reading, doing impossible crosswords, stupid quizzes (our favourite entertainment), drinking coffee and lying in the sun. Bliss, if you ask me.
Also, the pics are either mine or Libby's. I can't distinguish between the two, other than Libby's are probably better. Check out her blog.

this was t-h-e most beautiful place I have ever swam. Ever.




















But really, I wanted to talk 'bout friendship. Something I am both stressed and blessed by. I worry a lot about friendship, I'd say its a pretty top tier worry. It's not really something people talk about, if you have a lot of friends you're succeeding and showing it, if you don't your failing and also showing it. Its one massive, lonely, ambiguous taboo.
What even constitutes as 'a lot of friends'?? In an episode of HighLow they said, apparently scientifically, you can't have more than 4 or 5 friends. Now, I dispute this. How can something so subjective be empirically proven? You have so many different friends, for different reasons, in different places.
But friendship always feels like something you have to show you have. And something that is always compared, in my head at least.
I have some fucking brilliant friends. I mean ace. I am utterly blessed, but I still worry about it. Do they like me? Do they like spending time with me? Do I have enough? All unbelievably futile questions, worthless. I'd hope if I didn't like someone, didn't enjoy spending time with them, didn't feel enriched by them, I'd be proactive enough to just not. But I still question it, and compare myself to their other friends. It's very self-destructive.

But here are some things I adore about my friends. They need some appreciation.
I love my friends who make my laugh, let me cry and complain, who are the antithesis of my stress, but tell me they love me for it. I adore my friends who debate with me over pasta, advise me and tell me where I've gone wrong. I love my friends who play cards with me, read with me, who are just present in every capacity, and whose presence feels so nice. To whom I can tell any thought, at any time. I adore friends who respond to my declaration of a random 3 hours in their city, and for whom that time is never enough. Friends who spend days in the pub and on the beach, and suggest last minute trips; who buy you cereal bars when you're sad, send you postcards, and allow you to soothe their pain. Who listen to you, give you space to talk and space to think. Friends who do friendship quizzes (i'm telling you, do it!), who celebrate achievements, encourage you to think differently, act differently, and be unapologetically yourself.

Lying in the Portuguese sun, after a stressful and somewhat un-fruitful trip to a supermarket, Libby asked which friend I'd want in my life forever. And it's impossible to say. I feel almost full from all their different offerings and warmth, I don't want to lose any part of it. Any part of me.
Wow this is cringe and uncharacteristically sentimental, but necessary. I am currently navigating that odd liminal space between home and uni, between these friends and those friends. Its strange but a happy reminder of how much I love both.
So, I hope you enjoyed the pictures at least. A lot of love to Libby, in whose presence I always feel most myself and with whom my summer ended in a golden peace.

first year

I am a veteran of first year hysteria. Not an unusual achievement, but one none the less. Condensing a year of happenings into a few summative words is futile, but I learned a lot, grew a lot, met a lot of people. It was scary and overwhelming, but stimulating and fun. Mostly amazing, but some bits awful (see 8th week hilary term), and just a whole lot of very exciting and very intense learning and adventuring and experiencing.
I have a vivid memory of the first day: my mum had left, my room was a mess, and I called my dad thinking "what the fuck do I do now". The panic was crushing and consuming. But gradually it becomes ok, you go and explore, chat to people, go out, and you cope, and ignore the anxiety of 'is this right', and slowly you grow and enjoy and flourish, until it becomes your life.
So that's where I am at now. It is a part of me, and I adore it and the people and the stimulation. I no longer worry whether its right or whether I enjoy it, partly because the doubt is pointless, and mostly because I know the answer. Above all else, remember it takes time. Allow it to happen.



This is, of course, very specific to my experience to oxford, to history, to me. So whilst some of the advice is generic and universal, some of it is very Oxford focussed.

1) academia
  • the workload is high, but relative. You get on with it because you have no choice, and each week, despite a Tuesday night panic, you've handed in 1 or 2 substandard essays nd can go to the pub
  • mediocre is enough. Just hand some words in (especially pertinent if essays are formative, but even where they aren't)
  • it can get too much–I cried a bit, complained a lot, felt angry that my friends could go to the meadows when I had an essay crisis, nd didn't beat around the bush raising issues–everyone feels it, speak out!! 
  • for historians, rarely (if ever) read full books–skim, use the contents, read reviews, choose articles, randomly select passages and hope for the best–reading lists are too long to focus on one dry 600 pg book 
  • also don't read a full reading list (I have max 5 days to read and write an essay–tutors recommended 6-8 items, i was lenient with this)
  • manage ur time–I hate the 8-8-8 rule, instead I prefer dividing my day into 3, working 2/3rds, and having the evening off 
  • find your best structure, for me waking up super early and working was optimum (because i go into a slump around 4pm)
  • revision: in oxford, we have 'collections' (mock exams) at the start of every term, they are a good way to prepare revision materials and condense reading, if you don't have them, perhaps act like u do and review the material anyway!
  • I relied almost solidly on my essays, essay feedback, a few new readings, a lot of wikipedia (yes!) and my collection notes to revise–I didn't look at lecture notes once, nor really notes from reading (waffly and exhaustive)
  • For any Oxford historians, Trinity term is very enjoyable, but also rough. They don't let you stop, but just take it slow, go home, have a bath and breathe

2) living away from home
  • balancing washing and cooking and sleeping and self-care and socialising and working is rlly fuckin hard, but if you just muddle your way through and make sure ur eating ur 5-a-day, you'll be okay
  • send letters and postcards home, because receiving them back is lovely - see if u can persuade someone to send care packages
  • talk to your family, go home, and don't get into the headspace that it shows weakness (I was fixated on this)
  • tomato pasta sauce is the basis of everything 
  • keep in contact with friends away from uni!!!! I neglected this initially, but they're a necessary breath of fresh air, reminder of a bigger world and chance to rant/support/gossip
  • take as many nice home comforts as poss (would recommend nice sheets, cushions, postcards/souvenirs, a lamp and mugs)
  • if, like in Oxford, you don't have kitchens/they're really far away, a fridge is really handy and one of these sponges is essential (!)
  • get people to visit! Its so nice to show people around your new city, and can be more manageable than going home 

3) socialising
  • its exhausting; exciting and stimulating but exhausting 
  • it doesn't have to be all done at once, so slow down and chill out
  • I wasted so much of Hilary worrying about friends. I needed to get out of my head, and breathe
  • be open minded, it won't replicate your groups or friends at home, and thats beautiful, friendship comes in all forms, and all are valid 
  • everyone feels a bit lonely nd quiet sometimes 
  • oxford taught me the value of treating people, there's a culture of buying your friends chocolate or sending them a card or taking then out for cake and its really fuckin good and heart warming 
  • some really good evenings last year involved tea with friends, so take supplies
  • At oxford, embrace college life, its a blessing for making friends and belonging

4) money
  • I can't emphasise this! enough! transfer a set amount each week into your account as a budget
  • £5.50 for a pint is ridiculous but its also ok to do it!
  • unless necessary, don't be obsessive about limiting expenditure, relax nd b sensible ! (because it cultivates neurotic control which! we are trying to fight!)

5) food
  • my relationship with food improved at uni, I was with more relaxed people and in control
  • but this of course has the potential to tip too far, I found retaining structured meal times helped a lot, but also allowing flexibility when I wanted
  • i also looked at other people with the most liberating attitudes to food and saw how happy they were, and that i'd rather be having fun than in control
  • cook for others!!! we cooked communally every night and it was so fun and cheap, and nice when you were stressed
  • veggie eating can be soooo cheap (my faves include shakshuka, fajitas, chilli, thai green curry, tomato/pesto/roasted veg pasta–good books include the Leon vegan book and '15 minute vegan comfort food', also @we_are_food)
  • communal kitchens are grim, if you have them; keep ur sponge in your cupboard (ours were gross, as we had 3 kitchens collectively, but they were also so fun and communal in every sense, and the arguments were hilarious)

6) anything else
  • say yes to everything, with everyone, even if its awkward, even if you feel like your imposing 
  • but also (and I can't emphasise this enough) take time for yourself, alone, in bed or on a walk, or in a cafe, otherwise you'll burn out (wise words from a tutor)
  • pre-paid washing machines r the shittest things ever 
  • you will be amazed by how long you can go without washing your bedding 
  • oxford is like no where else, and your experience like no-one else's, comparison is futile
Second year is looming, with the prospects of our inaugural feminist society, rowing, netball, and a million other things. I'm apprehensive of the unknown, and also the known, but am reminding myself of memories of last year. I will probs talk about my feelings for 2nd year in depth, alongside any other snatches of wisdom that emerge.
Any questions or tips leave below xo

escapism


Whilst this constitutional, undemocratic crisis is inducing waves of nausea and a lot of 'what the fuck', I transport my tired mind back to a Kölner balcony, on a late summer evening, with an ethereal golden light breaking through the broken clouds of a brewing storm. Sat on wooden chairs, drinking €2 sekt left in our apartment, drunk from the bubbles and happiness and the easy-going spirit of this city on the banks of the Rhein. Bliss. Peace. Contentment.
This was only yesterday. But after 2 trains, a plane and 2 coaches, it feels stolen from another life.
Cologne was a city of no expectation. Booked because flights were cheap, because time had run out to consider other options. Why are you going to Cologne? was the response of disdain.
But I would have spent 3 days no where else, with no one else.
It was replete with kölsch and cider and picnics on grass and beautiful churches and a very good friend. Art and pastries, sushi, laughter, content silence, German music, feminist literature, all drenched in August sun.
So different from other holidays, so different from other cities, it was relaxed and spontaneous, a welcome change from militant schedules nd rushed excursions.
I was, for once, happy wandering, letting the days drip away a little drunk, drifting between park and church, thrift shop and cafe, bar to bar.












Cologne itself is effortlessly cool. Its so German, a little rough looking, modern, edgy, aesthetic. Its bursting with cafes, bars, shops, restaurants, all of which you could spend hours perusing and consuming, especially in the Belgian quarter. Its quiet but bustling with locals, and is so friendly and welcoming of 2 girls who could say little more than guten tag. I think we even pulled off being German (maybe). Man, I already dream of wandering those streets again, searching out kaffee und kuchen, or our next bar, in the most effortless peace.

Highlights include:
Sitting in the apartment, and on the balcony, drinking, talking about boys (lol cliche), and Oxford, and our relationships with a mums, and whether we'd be happy to die now.
The Cathedral
St Martin the Great church
Reading feminist books by the Rhine, drinking cider and soaking up the sun
Breakfast on the first morning
Eating sushi
The first evening in Hiroshima-Nagasaki park
The sun 

I'd like to live in Germany, I think. Anywhere other than fucking Britain. Fuck. Me. I hope you're all holding out in this madness. Its unconstitutional. Undemocratic. But not unprecedented. Of course it was going to happen.
Transport yourselves to somewhere sunny, on a balcony reading, with no where to be, nothing to do, but be there. Present. Content.

a lot of feelings


Here are some musings that have been sitting in my insta saved for the past few weeks. I'm loving the rich warmth; it oozes late summer, something the weather isn't giving me much of lately.

Its been an anxious few weeks, riddled with a begrudging, relentless nervousness. Partly, the result of inherent existentialism, partly knowing I need to wind back up for another term, tackle my reading list, fearing I've already left it too late.
But I have found myself waking up in the middle of the night in a delirious and untameable fear. And, it sounds lame and perhaps virtuous, but I think much of this stemmed from a sort of sense of global disarray. I saw this post by Finn Harries, talking about 'eco-anxiety' and I resonated deeply with the helplessness and confusion. Recently, everything about the world has been making my stomach drop, inducing the claustrophobic nausea that colludes with my anxiety, and has made me panic. I've had to walk away from several dinner table conversations because I simply can't face the fear it ignites.
For me, 'eco-anxiety' is just one part of a much tighter ball of dread. Brexit, vote of no confidence, general election, Trump, Boris Johnson and his cabinet, anti-abortion laws, the protests in Hong Kong, the Epstein case and questionability of the judicial system, and everything else. 
Even writing this is making me sweat.
Maybe its my naturally restless disposition. I'm not kidding myself, I know there's little I can do, but it appears this feeds much of the monster. A sense that its crumbling, and there's nothing you can do. But also nowhere to hide.
It makes me most nervous because I don't understand it. Have so many questions, so much of it doesn't make sense, and I can't find simple answers. I feel helpless, query everything. The judicial system, the power of wealth to pay away allegations, the strength of democracy, the accepted 'goodness' of law enforcement.
I suppose I'm interested in how people are facing this? How are they managing to actually do something to change it, without hiding in the graceful pages of an oh comely magazine, or the indulgent mindlessness of trash tv and pretending the world doesn't exist. Perhaps avoid the news? But then I feel out of touch, in denial. I've been running a lot, which does quieten my head, as do my morning walks. Talking about the chaos helps, sometimes perpetuates.

Is a denial of tragedy and disarray worth a quiet mind, or do we all have a duty to participate in an awareness? How do you help the helplessness? Does everyone feel as lost and anxious as me?

Woah and breathe. That was a lot–I've been feeling a lot, and not really knowing what to do with those feelings. I've also been running a lot, spending a lot of hours at work drinking hot chocolate and gossiping, been day tripping despite having neither the time nor the money, and greatly anticipating my trip to Cologne next weekend.
Please answer my thoughts!

*
pics r from (left 2 right bitches): // @anne.art // @momsgardenart // @evazurig // @mansfieldoxford (ok shameless plug of my college but LOOK!) // @sophievstheuniverse // @m_d_n_f // @ambivalentlyyours // @walter_7.3 (literally no idea who this is but i like the pic ok) // @depressingfridgepoems // @rossie_edenbrow // @charlotte.ager // @wearehundredclub // @we_are_food // @scottdunn_travel // @we_are_food // @ladyylivv