This week – Back to work

This week was back to school, we had a week off for half term. It was quite a challenge being back, but the EY got eggs that hatched into tiny chicks which was very very cute.

Also my Y1 class..I was teaching them about orphans, and decided to ask them what is called when someone doesnt have parents. I got some pretty sweet answers like “poor” and “hopeless”, even got “homeless” but then one girl knew “Orphan”. They’re a cute bunch these lots, I hope I can be a good teacher to them.

Thursday last lesson was a good lesson actually, I got them in groups of 3 and made them prepare a little presentation. I think they enjoyed it.

Wednesday was a pretty much chaos, I need to think of another way to approach that day and organise it, It’s just such a mess… I’ve got to admit, repeating my instructions a thousand times has got to be the thing I hate the most when “live” teaching, (planning and behaviour management often fight for that top spot actually).

Theres this child safety certificate I got the office to print out, not sure if they did, I need to give it to EY head.

Also I might be observed next week… I’ll probably do pretty badly but I should try. I really need to find games/activities for Reception…

Heh, I also applied for an EAL job, I need to get some experience in that area…maybe volunteer or something.

The opposite of Love

If I were to ask you, “what’s the opposite of Love?”, would you reply Hate?

 

I think it’s a common (in my opinion, mistaken) belief that the opposite of love is hate. I’ve talked about love before, a long time ago (I may have to revisit that blog and maybe write an update…) but for now, I want to talk about Hate.

Read more

Suicide, or the lack thereof

Being so ill so quickly (btw, I got the first illness again) can make you feel really crappy; having a body that’s not working the way it used to, changing relationships with friends and more importantly family, having to rely on them more and this feeling of loss of independence can really get to someone. But let’s not get all emotional and psychological, having you hair thin, losing muscle mass (aka not being able to work out the way you used to) and more importantly having your skin fall off, peel off, regrow and be super dry – needing intense moisturisation every few hours and relying on anti-histamines to get you through a few hours where you need to wear suffocating clothes; talking about clothes – not being able to wear the clothes you like because they’ll get ruined because of the greasy moisturiser; all these little things, minor things, they keep tap tap taping at the back of your head and some days they overwhelm you and you think “what’s the point?”

 

The furthest I’ve gone is thinking about my will (So as not to further inconvenience others – I’ve done that enough) but I realised I didn’t have much, that ring can go to my sister, really they can choose what they want to keep, chuck what they want and donate the rest. That’s pretty much it. Then I thought about my family, especially my mum and how much of everything she’s put up with and pulled through and I stop that stupid line of thinking.

 

The other day I had a thought that triggered this blogpost, I have a question, do you think it takes more than 12 or 24 hrs to decide to genuinely commit suicide? I think so. I don’t think it’s something you decide one morning and carry out in the evening. Thing is, I’ve been living on the edge of life and possible death for a while now, 5 years to be precise. I’m on a firm “life” ground, usually its beautiful and has lush green grass and wild flowers and the sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze; but just on the edge of my theoretical vision there’s the edge, a ragged dark edge that falls into an abyss of end. I have epilepsy, and what we’ve discovered (with me being a rebellious, in denial teenager) is that if I miss my medication twice in a row then I’ll get a grand mal seizure. Grand mal seizure can lead to death, plain and simple. I’ve already had ten (don’t ask, it’s all on that rebellious, in denial teenager) so I’m not going to be asking any doctor about my odds for the next one or anything like that.

 

“Missing my medication twice” what does that mean? I have to take medication every 12 hours, so if I forget and go about 24hrs without that drug I’m basically playing a game with my literal life on the line. That…definitely gets you thinking. Another way to look at this is that every 12 hours, I renew my will to live.

 

So it’s hard to brood suicidal thoughts and then willingly pop a pill that is basically you saying “I don’t want to risk dying” and carry on brooding like nothing happened. Then you don’t want to NOT take the pills because you don’t want to die of an epileptic fit, having bitten your tongue, banged your head on something, lost control of your bladder and other such disagreeable side effects.

 

So, ladies and gentlemen, this is why (amongst other reasons) I probably will never commit suicide, aside from the selfishness of the act and as someone I’ve heard describe it, suicide is “not ending the pain but passing it on” I personally think it’s useless. It’s quitting the game because it got a bit hard. Who does that?

 

Through all the struggles, I’m learning new things, I hope my patience has gotten much better and my empathy has grown to immense proportions. All that tap tap tapping, I hope it’s shaping me into something great, if I let all that great experience opportunity go, what kind of human would I be?

The shiniest stars have the darkest shadows

shiny

This might be bleak and depressing but the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows (and even rainbows require rain but I’m getting sidetracked here).

I’ve come to believe that all those great people who are most liked, who are admired, who are looked up to; who stand out from the rest, touch hearts and make break-throughs had something in common, (I’m sure there’s more than just one thing, but I want to talk about one and that is:) they had dark times and the darker those times were, the greater they’ve come out the other side. Read more

Third Culture Kid

I don’t really like labels, I don’t fit any of them and they are quite restrictive by nature. Still they help shape us and define our identity. Fitting under no label makes one feel lost and confused, one label that I not only like but which also helped me make some sense of myself (as I previously thought I was a complete and utter weirdo/crazy) is the term TCK – Third Culture Kid. It means someone who has a culture different to their parents, it’s usually from living in different places, thus assimilating the cultures from those places as well as the original parental culture and creating a “Third” culture.

This is what I am, a TCK. My parents are from Mauritius, I grew up in France and now live in the UK. Read more

Short holiday in France

I was extremely apprehensive to go on this trip to France. France is where I spent my childhood from 1 to 12. I went to nursery, primary and secondary school there. I lived in many places and we have many many family friends dotted around Paris. For some reason I did not want to go France. I dreaded the whole trip and many aspects of it. There was no logical or rational reason and with the idea of “I might regret not going” put in my head as well as the fact that I did not want to be someone who did not go somewhere because they were scared, I went. I was irrationally upset on the car ride there. When I got over this upset there was a little side voice telling me I wasn’t allowed to have fun because I so vehemently didn’t want to go on this trip.

We got to where we were staying early Monday morning. Still jittery and disorientated from being up and about all night I was awake, having something to eat and talking until 10am, I then rested and slept till 2pm.  This Monday was Easter Monday so most things were closed but we went to a couple of shops and did some looking around. It was alright. There was this 1000 piece puzzle I really liked but because the price had been taken off it was no longer on sale.

Tuesday we went to visit many people. It was really nice seeing people I have not seen for more than 5 years. We’ve all grown up and are trying our best to get on with life and the little kids have changed so much. I was glad to see that my French was still passable though I still struggle to get it to come out. We went home after midnight having visited many people and been to many places all over the area around Paris.

Wednesday was a bit more relaxed. There were a few people we needed to see then we went to eat out and headed home where we saw my older cousin. He’s a joker. The evening was pretty relaxed and everyone did what they wanted.

Thursday morning we were suppose to go to the market but it was raining so much that the plan was changed and they instead went to a shopping centre. The early afternoon was spent having lunch and packing. The car would be completely full as my aunt was coming along. We left at 4.15pm giving us ample time to make it to Calais by 9ish. We arrived very early and boarded a ferry at 8.30ish. Its now 9.15 and the boat has just started moving.

***

I write this from home, it’s Friday afternoon, the boat ride was fine and the final car ride was fine too. While driving to Calais port we saw an adult male, a younger male and a little girl walking by the side of the motorway, then a bit further a police man standing there, looking like he was waiting, then further down we saw “The Jungle”, It didn’t register in our mind, we were driving by the refugee camp… it looks just like the pictures you see on brochures for charities, tents stuck together etc… I didn’t see anyone there, they are not very close to the motorway, I think the camps were moved because the earth all around looks freshly turned. Also there’s a barrier all around, with two layers of barbed wires. I’m just describing it as it is. It makes you feel so helpless.

Overall the trip was good, it was a nice break, just relaxing and holiday-ing, no responsibilities, no deadlines or anything like that. It was a nice break.

 

Thoughts that helped

I’m a reddit user, mostly lurker, been on there a couple of years. I’m also a StumbleUpon user and yesterday I came across an article (from yet another website) picking out a few quotes from an askreddit thread. I liked it, and because I haven’t been writing in a while and I haven’t posted anything online, I thought I’d share this.

I like StumbleUpon, because its literally what it says on the box, when I tell someone about an article or a video or a picture I found, I often say “hey i stumbled upon (inner chuckle) on this article, check it out”

http://www.knowable.com/a/21-people-share-something-someone-said-that-forever-changed-their-way-of-thinkin

I kinda like all the quotes chosen in that article, there’s none that stand out to me a lot, I just want to save this article so I can come back and read those quotes in the future.

I wish you happiness

I’m a dreamer, (can you come up with an opening cheesier than that?) recently I had to say goodbye to someone important to me. I felt it was the only way. I couldn’t do anything for that person anymore. I couldn’t bring them happiness; what I gave them was a facade of happiness, an illusion, a break from life of sorts. But i know there’s real happiness out there, it’ll be richer, deeper, brighter, greater; it’ll be awesome.

I can only hope, pray, beg for them to find that tru-er happiness. And I will be patient. Patience is a great virtue, I’m a believer, I believe I’d get great stuff out of exercising patience. The pain will pass, and in my true dreamer fashion, I dream of brighter days, bluer skies, vivid colours everywhere. Happiness. For both of us.

A new milestone – Starting university

The evening before I was due to start university, I found myself chasing my brother with a dictionary to throw at him. I tripped and fell on the carpet. Got back up, picked up the dictionary and threw it at his hiding self.

Later, I felt a burning pain in my knee, as I looked, I realised I had skinned myself. How nostalgic, it looked exactly like something you’d get from falling over while playing outside with your friends during a common summer day. That stinging pain that wouldn’t relent…every step reminded me of the pain, and of childhood.

This event made me think, even if I’m going university, I should hold on to my childhood, to all the good of it, as much as I can and as healthily as possible; the innocence, being carefree, the raw feelings, the honesty, the sense of justice, the wonder at every little thing, and so much more.

And here I was, 20, on the eve of starting a degree, with a scraped knee.

It’s been a few days now, and I was just thinking today…did we stop running and skipping easily because of the invisible weight that ended up on our shoulders? are we literally weighted down as grown ups? I think that isn’t good, however many responsibilities we have, however many worries, however many engagements, I want to be someone who can still skip and run just because. To be honest, I don’t remember the last time I skipped around, but I remember the last time I’ve just wanted to run the last stretch of the walk home, just to get there faster, just coz I’m going home. That was two days ago. and I didn’t run.