I don't have a smart title for November

I lay, writing this, in my bed, still recovering from frankly the worst illness I feel like I have ever had. Fuck you viral infection, truly, I hope we never meet again. The last smidge of November was plagued with this terrible plague and has made getting into the festive spirit very hard indeed but hey ho, here I am, fighting on with myself and Amazon Prime at hand.

November, as previous months have been at University, was a strange one. It's not like I fell off the bandwagon so to speak but November was a month of battling personal details. My anxiety reared it's ugly head after a night out and complications with my medication now mean I can't get smashed off my face like all of the other twenty something students (who am I kidding? They're all bairns.) I had deadlines in my life once again, suddenly realising the horror late December when I got my first marks back, although they were excellent, that University actually got graded.

I mean first year doesn't matter, they all say that. But me being the perfectionist I am cannot help but strive for the best I can do, a first is not in my sights but a 2:1? That'll do me just fine. I am a different breed, the kind that enjoys doing essays, there's something oddly satisfying watching the word count slowly creep up (something I've learned is that I never go over the word count, only under) and clicking that submit button has to be a feeling better than sex.

How have I forgot to mention I got a house (ok, it's a flat- an 'Apartment' but it makes more sense in the grand scheme of second year uni things) with my two favourite beans in the whole world. You haven't felt like such a contradiction as an adult, I'm talking mature enough to rent a house but also completely at a loss as to what you are doing, until you're in the back of a complete stranger's (the estate agent you met five minutes prior) car on the way to look at some potential dumps. You are lured in not just by the panic they inflict ("Oh yes we've nearly sold all the three beds") but the one gem they do display you snap up quicker than a venus fly trap (Alex your venus fly trap is still shit.) So yes, we picked the gem as next years dwellings. Don't judge us from your rickety semi-detached waking nightmares.

November was certainly a month of working hard and playing slightly less hard, but that does not make it any less of a pivotal month in forming my personality at University- I've met a variety of people, from the good to the bad and a few with some ugly hearts. My music taste has fluctuated more than it ever has done, cracking open a cold one with a bit of Tchaikovsky and then sending myself off to sleep to 'Let's Bury Margaret Thatcher Everyday' by Jonny and the Baptists.

Again, I said I was special.

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Hello, October

After the peculiar (and a bit overwhelming) month that was September, October came as a welcome breath of fresh, or at less Autumnal, air. October brought my first proper week of uni and so far, so good. On that front everything is incredibly interesting, I'm digging deep in hopes of achieving something at least moderately impressive that my Mum can tell all her back of the shop colleagues about. The end of October meant my first assessment and to be honest, it wasn't that bad. If you keep on top of things, it's true, you have nothing to worry about frankly.

October is also the first month I've lived completely independently sans parents. Having my own little place to go to is quite soothing, so much that when I've gone home for bits and bobs I find the size of my bedroom quite terrifying and yearn to go back to my little box den on the outskirts of the city. Meals have been prepared, flat has been tidied (as much as possible), leaflets have been binned and clothes have been neatly put away- at least when I'm sober.

Yes, I didn't think I'd do the drinking-clubbing thing either but the bug got me. Maybe I'm just living out my misspent youth dancing to Little Mix in Popworld on a Saturday night, maybe it's just a bit of fun. What I've slowly been learning is to not take everything in life so seriously, university is of course about getting a degree primarily but how can you say no to so many exciting opportunities that get flung your way? I intend to make the most out of the next three years.

As I've mentioned I did lots of adulting this October. Like I sorted and paid for my own car insurance (slow cry) and I'm now even looking at houses for next year. I've barely settled into one place and I'm now on the house hunt for another hopefully equally as nice room. Oh and those friends? They're as wonderful as ever, in fact my little brood of beans (as I call them) just keeps expanding and I'm reveling in meeting all these new faces from different parts of the British Isles (and the world!)

October was not, however, without its sad moments. My family lost a member, I had a few moments of self pity and all in all I've wondered just if I'm capable of it all. I can happily say that this was only a fleeting thought, of course I am. The devil works hard but Sophie Louise Nixon? She works harder.

Now that spooky season 'tis over I can finally indulge in my obsession for Christmas. So farewell for now, I'm off to buy a big ass Christmas tree.

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September, wake me up when it ends

As part of university and meeting a plethora of new people, I (over the past couple of weeks) have often been asked- "So what do you write about?" when I mention I've got this blog thing and I do Journalism. Fact is I have absolutely no idea. I just exist as a creative vessel, whatever springs to mind is my inspiration and frankly as of late, as you may have noticed with the lack of material, I have not had much. You could say I have been in a bit of a rut.

September was a peculiar month, the first few days of which I remember very little of. In fact September barely existed in my memory until the start of university nearly two weeks ago. I had the pleasure of meeting a Youtuber I watch regularly, did a bit of shopping for the big move and watched a f*ck tonne of Reign (and cried when Francis died, I admit it.) Besides that though September was mainly anticipation for what it would bring.

And by god did it deliver. In ways the end of September was utterly fantastic, I cannot say I have lived more in the past 20 years than I have in the week post move. I have met so many fantastic and inspiring humans, some of whom I long to have in my life for the foreseeable future, if not longer. It were these friends that kept me going through uncertain and difficult times, their zest for life and positive attitudes continue to make me smile. That is the incredible thing about university, the exposure to thousands of people who ,in any other walk of life, you would never meet otherwise.

Of course September and all it brought was, and continues to be, a challenge to my mental health. Change is a difficult thing to adapt to and of course moving somewhere new was, in a way, frightening. Anxiety is a continuous battle, with good and bad days but every day that goes by is a day that brings me closer to being comfortable with my new surroundings (so much so that when I had to go home I felt the need to ask my Mam if I could have food from 'her' fridge.)

If anything this month validated how completely and utterly besotted I am with my family, the kind things they have done for me, the sacrificed time off doing better things to help my move- I am truly grateful for all of this. I cannot say I have been homesick, I pride myself on being fairly nomadic. As the song says "wherever I lay my head, that's my home." I have my little family here at the flat and my extended family across campus.

Above all I have, regardless of whether I like it or not, entered a completely new chapter in life. One that has been cemented by the survival of one heck of a September.

In regard to the music that shaped the past month I shall pop a list down below of the songs that defined my September 2017.
Little By Little- Oasis
The Last of the Real Ones- Fall Out Boy
Outrage- Capital Lights
Praying- Kesha

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Oldies but Goldies

I pride myself on having such an expansive taste in music, not many youngsters can boast they were complimented in their Year 9 school music report on their love for everything from classical symphonies to BBC Radio 1. In contrast to most other things in life, in regards to music I am not fussy at all. In homage to my ever growing collection of CD's, Vinyls and 'streams' (whatever the kids say)- I have compiled a list of songs that, like a fine Tesco's own brand red wine, only get better with age.

Frankie Goes To Hollywood- The Power of Love
You teenyboppers may recognise this eighties classic from the 2012 John Lewis Christmas ad, before the days of pervy old men on the moon and trampolining dogs when things were much more simple. Covered by the softly toned Gabrielle Aplin this quaint version did what any good cover should do and reignited the spark in my cold heart for this belter of a song. At the expense of sounding typical however, the Frankie version does cut the mustard that bit more. It has that edge, that deep tone that just makes the song more well rounded. Johnson's vigor in the second verse sends chills down my spine. The entire song has that contrast that most songs in the modern era lack. This is some serious walking done the aisle shit.

Crowded House- Don't Dream It's Over
HEY NOW HEEEEEEEEEEY NOW- sing it with me folks! If there's one song I put on in the car for a bit of a hey ho sing song/performance then the classic hit from Crowded House 'Don't Dream It's Over' is certainly it. As me and my Mum say, we do a crackin' cover fuelled by boredom and good vibes when on a lengthy road trip or simply a short trip to the shops. Recently covered by Miley Cyrus and Ariana Grande (for the kids) this is a timeless gem that truly is the gift that keeps on giving. It's just so feckin' good.

Etta James- At Last
TUNE. 'Nuff said. To describe how beautiful and melodic James' voice is to somebody who hasn't heard any of her work would be incredibly difficult. 'At Last' is a fantastic balance of softness and powerful belting. I can say, hand on heart, I have not heard anyone do this song better or with more integrity than Etta James. This wonderful classic remains as it should, back in the 60's, like a snapshot in time.

Tears For Fears- Everybody Wants To Rule The World
Did I mention I have a signed copy of this? Yes? Sorry.
Pre Hunger Games/Lorde days there was a group called 'Tears For Fears' who wrote a little song called 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World' that was feckin' brilliant. While the original doesn't have the anthem like quality of it's modern cover it does have that sweet 80's beat and some quality timeless vocals by bassist Curt Smith. Lyrically it's a beautiful ode to ambition and is definitely up there as on of my all time favourites.

Aretha Franklin- I Say A Little Prayer
If you don't sing all the ad-libs in this powerful classic then I can truly say you aren't human. We've all done the 'evers' and 'evers' with complete lack of vocal control and entirely off-key but loved every second of it nonetheless. 'I Say A Little Prayer' just has that. It's motivating and endearing all at once. And not to mention Aretha Franklin is an absolute legend. Sing it honey.

Rick Astley- Never Gonna Give You Up
Do I really need to explain the inclusion of this? No. It's Rick Astley and he's never going to give you up or let you down or run around and desert you and not many men will do that. So deal with it.

Elvis Presley- Can't Help Falling in Love
Almost any Elvis Presley could be easily included on this list. 'Can't Help Falling In Love' is just one of a string of well written and exceptionally performed classic hits from this legend. You can't not fall in love (geddit?) with Presley's smooth vocals. Lay back, grab a cuppa and pretend that he's singing to you. I guarantee happiness.

Queen- Fat Bottomed Girls
If this song was more fact than fiction then we need more nannies in the world like Big Fat Fanny (come on now, we're all grown ups) to inspire budding Freddie Mercury's to write fiesty little belters like this one. I'm still an enormous Queen fan, not as obsessed as circa 2010 Sophie but still a fan nonetheless, so like Elvis Presley I could've easily put any song on this list. But for variety's sake and with a lot of smooth ballads, I've selected the sassy 'Fat Bottomed Girls' to spice up this playlist.

The Beach Boys- God Only Knows
Endless covers, endless versions but initially done well by the Beach Boys. Back in the days of music where people would sing 'I will always love you' rather than 'I want to shag your brains out', 'God Only Knows' is sweet to the core and has a gentle realism or perhaps cynicism that is quite endearing. Frankly it's simply divine to listen to, pop the vinyl on and bathe in joy.

Elton John- I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues
Fun fact- this song used to send me to sleep as a wee bairn. Thus meaning either I had no taste as a child and found it boring or Stevie Wonder's harmonica solo was able to hit the insomnia switch in my body with it's sheer brilliance and send me into a deep slumber. In comparison to John's up-tempo tracks 'I Guess That's Why...' is brilliantly honest and its message spans the decades. You could say it's just sheer brilliance.

Honorable mentions include 'When Doves Cry' and anything by 'A-ha.'

Link to the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/sophielbubs/playlist/7AWAxBuCa4Q7Tex6d6UTCA

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A Comprehensive List of Jobs that I Have Had

In good news, next week I get to start what is the job of my dreams. But as in most fairy tales you do have to kiss a few frogs (via HMRC) before you find your prince and I have had my fair share of toad-like jobs. That being said not all of the jobs that I had ,since being of working age (which in the UK is 16), were that bad and some I do miss- a lot. In the interest of keeping things that should be private sort of private I won't be disclosing all of the nitty gritty about where and when I worked- however it shouldn't be too hard for you to dig up if you really care about that sort of thing. Or if you're a stalker.

Additional Disclaimer: This list shall include any work experience/volunteering that I have done because why the heck not. We have all day right?

The first job I had was at a call centre taking telephone donations for Red Nose Day. I managed to get into this as a friend at Sixth Form happened to have a parent working at said call centre and you know the more the merrier applies when it comes to these charity events, more volunteers means more calls can be processed and me and my good heart couldn't say no to helping the cause. That being said I, pre-meds, was not the best person talking to strangers via a telephone and tech at hand didn't necessarily always work which proved a bit of a nightmare. But when pizza and all-you-can-drink tea is involved you can't say no. There's some dodgy photos out there from these fateful nights (oh yes, I did this for two years until the centre shut down) if you go all Sherlock Holmes on me.

During the Summer I started doing a bit of work decorating events through a company I happened to know through somebody I once knew. All in all it was fun, me being the weird human I am I really enjoy repetitive tasks such as putting on chair covers and placing centre pieces on tables, not to mention showing off my artistic flair throwing confetti on tables a la salt bae. I did this for a bit over a year, not minding the early starts and again free pizza often occurred (you see there's a trend here.)

My first paid, tax letters in the post, phone calls to HMRC because my code was wrong job was at Next over the Christmas period. I'll get onto my second position with them later but this was by far the better of the two. There's just something about working at Christmas that is so darn wonderful, being able to dance (internally) around like a goofball while clipping sale price tags onto garments because the shop is close and no one gives a f-. Yeah. I, for one, didn't mind working Christmas Eve. It's not as if I was doing anything special either, other than being excited that it was Christmas and we were finished fairly early because of the quality team we were. Sadly all good things come to the end when you are a temp and I bid farewell to Next 1.0 shortly after, McDonald's in hand thanks to Dad and his taxi service.

I then got a job as a waitress. God. The flashbacks. It was at a pub near where I lived but verging slightly more on the Tyne and Wear side of things than Durham (I never understood why its postcode was DH.) This was at the time when I was learning to drive so I have the route ingrained into my brain and had the scars off the bushy back roads ingrained into my old car (bliddy bushes.) It was a good job, probably the better of the two waitressing jobs I had if you take away the very vague hours and how tips were shared. Plus we got to wear waistcoats and look like sassy af penguins. And I like penguins. I left that sadly because I had passed my driving test and couldn't afford the insurance with the minimum wage job I had. Which leads me onto the next job.

Interlude. This is where Next 2.0 came in. I covered the Summer season while working at the pub I've just mentioned but this time at a different store. It wasn't as great, there was no Christmas music or jumpers or dancing. Just children's clothing and various sizes and prices and no joy. It was still fairly enjoyable and I enjoyed the compliment of 'you've got a great customer service face- stand at our door and hand out bags' so yeah, it worked out.

Post Next 2.0 and after a lot of interviews I landed at job at the Cath Kidston. To this date this is the only new shop I have ever worked out and I have to say opening day was a blast. Getting to meet influential people in retail, hand out goodies and land in your local paper is a pretty sweet deal. I have to say Cath Kidston is a fantastic brand, just incredibly expensive and it did sadden my slightly not being able to impulsively spend my discount even though the wage was very generous. My last shift was early morning Christmas Eve so I was certainly tired out by the time clocking out rolled around. Oh and the staff room was impeccable, mainly thanks to my and my top notch cleaning skills and the handy hoover.

The last job to mention was my second venture into waitressing and the longest I have been at any job, that being nearly a year. I did love it. The staff nights out were legendary, the split shifts certainly memorable and if anything I made true friends there. That job saw me through the most bizarre year in living memory- a lot of highs and lows- but I loved the working lates and building relationships with the regular customers. Although I am still truly sorry to the ladies on table 82 that we didn't have any toffee sauce in the end. I left at Christmas time, so god knows how epic that would have been, although working Christmas Day would have been a push- even for me.

And that's it really. Honorable mentions include the day I worked at a cafe before finding I couldn't do the hours and the time I helped out at my Dad's caravan park and all the little acting jobs that could have (or have) been.

So here's to the next festive period at my dream job and to all of my student loan going on bath bombs. It's going to be a great three months.

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The Botanist

Last week I had the pleasure of experiencing service at 'The Botanist', a beautifully decorated and naturally green restaurant, in Newcastle's city centre. As it is my home for the next few years, I thought it would be an excellent idea to indulge in Newcastle's Restaurant Week where you can get a two course meal at selected restaurants for just a tenner, excellent if you're destined to be a poor student like me. When my fantastic university friends decided to arrange a get together we all thought that, as the hungry little foodies we are, this would be the way to go as we try to get to know each other better.

The Botanist is situated just behind Jamie's Italian and next to Waterstones- right by the Monument in the heart of Newcastle. After ascending a mighty flight of stairs (take the lift is my advice, we didn't notice it until we were heading back down) we entered what is possibly the most beautiful restaurant I have ever seen. The roof resembles that of a greenhouse, like you would see at the Eden project. As a result it allows in natural light which gives the place an earthly ambiance, less artificial and more natural. The bar is situated just in front of the entrance and is quite rustic which gives the restaurant even more charm. I must quickly mention the chandelier hanging just in front of the door, made up of various coloured bottles dangling at different levels- it certainly made for fantastic Instagram shots for the girls.

We were greeted and led to our table and tended to by our waitress, I believe she was called Chelsi. I highly recommend saving your pennies before you head to the Botanist, although we were buying off the Restaurant Week menu this does not save you money on the cocktails and, as a result, I didn't venture into the territory of the quirky and most impressive cocktails. I instead got my usual glass of rosé wine, sometimes it's good to play it safe. My friend Samantha ordered a lovely cocktail that came in a jar, I saw other cocktails at the tables next to us that even produced smoke! 

The Restaurant Week menu was limited which is completely understandable seeing as it is an offer. We opted for a main and a dessert for £10 as none of the starters really floated our boat (not the usual Newcastle student hummus lovers.) If you're local to Newcastle you may be surprised when you order the 'hanging kebab' to find it isn't like your greasy hangover cure. In fact their famous hanging kebabs come served, hanging of course, above a bowl of your choice of side and the waitress will even tip the garlic butter so that it cascades down the kebab, nice little bit of a show at the table. We all went for the halloumi and sesame falafel and by god was it gorgeous (halloumi is my weakness.)

After a good natter we proceeded to get dessert. The success of the first hanging kebab kept me confident that my dessert, a strawberry and marshmallow hanging kebab, would be a treat. Indeed it was, the garlic butter now replaced with a sweet dripping chocolate sauce and the side with a refreshing ice cream. Me and Sarah went for this deliciously obvious choice while Samantha and Samera opted for the baked chocolate chip cookie dough- which also looked very good!

I cannot fault the service we experienced and the restaurant itself is a delight to sit in, I'd certainly love to come back on an evening and see how it looks in the moonlight. I'd highly recommend a visit with or without the Restaurant Week offer, although when it rolls around again I will be the first person to set foot in the door to this paradise.

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What am I like to live with?

I was supposed to do this some time ago but finding a time when the both of us were either not busy or falling asleep after work/a long day was nigh on impossible. Miraculously this weekend we are both bright eyed and bushy tailed and so, in an effort to come across less deep and meaningful, I am sprucing up this blog with a bit of light hearted humour. And who else does humour better than my Mam. Prepare for graphic descriptions of what it is like to live with me. Future flatmates- you have been warned.

~ Firstly what obvious signs are there that I live here? ~
Mam: Guaranteed the floor has her dinner on it. Doesn't know where her mouth is. Too busy watching TV I think. Her sheep (Dressing Gown) can be found anywhere as well.

~ Do I play my music too loud? ~
Mam: No, she's permanently plugged in. She can't hear the question when asked.

~ Can I make a good cuppa? ~
Mam: Definitely good cuppa, best one just before 9 o'clock when I smack my lips meaning 'cuppa.'

~ What household chore am I the best at? ~
Mam: She's good at cooking bacon sandwiches. Did say the other day she finds it irritating having dishes left on the bench when she's doing them but found a pile the next morning. Says it was too late- all hers!

~ And worst? ~
Mam: Hoovering, says she doesn't like the new hoover. It plugs in like the rest!

~ Can you remember when you first gave me the house keys? ~
Mam: When she returned home- just kidding! Probably senior school. I was at work and thought she was now capable of letting herself in. However she still waits for her tea!

~ What is the oddest thing I do? ~
Mam: She leaves her clothes in the shape of a body at the bottom of my bed (room leads to ensuite) when she has a bath.

~ What's been the best thing about the past 20 years living with me? ~
Mam: She's extremely good at the internet therefore can help me. She has also been an excellent typist and I use her occasionally for my essays on work.

~ And the worst? ~
Mam: Before she was on her meds- nightmare!

~ Will you miss me when I move out? ~
Mam: I will miss Sophie but will not miss the mess. Bailey will miss her as he will have nobody to hug all afternoon.

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Art (question mark) in education

I (stupidly) opted to study art for three and a bit years of my educational life. Whilst a controversial view (you got an A* you talented bitch get over it) I despised every waking second of my artistic studies before bowing out ungracefully two weeks in to AS in favour of an essay based Classics course that suited my tendency to ramble (and a holiday) very well. You see I was never the kind to be boxed, even in essays I could digress so exceptionally and that was something you could not do, shockingly, in art.

I recall so clearly our first ever art lesson circa Year 9. I had recently moved up into what the American's would call 'High School' from the awkward phase of 'Middle School' to a building with a glorious mismatched serious of art studios connected by secret doorways and to top it off, a towering staircase leading to our own private zen area for quiet painting away from the rambunctious scamps who couldn't wait to drop the damn subject for GCSE. I, a naive young thing, was overjoyed at the prospect of doing actual 'art', having been forced for years to balance it with textiles and graphic design in one shitty subject hour, both of which I was tremendously crap at. For years I had been the art 'it girl'- doodling (in retrospect) funny shaped humans with odd looking hands and dis proportioned faces that weirdly people found enticing. "Please draw this Sophie" my in awe friends would say as I handed someone another peculiar drawing.

Anyway, In this lesson we were asked 'what is art?' Now even at the simple age of 13 I was well aware how vast art is as a form. I'd binge-watched Sky Arts and seen everything from Tracey Emin style installations to classical renaissance portraits of regal Kings and Queens. I knew art could not be boxed and as bizarre as a pair of parted arse cheeks that you could literally walk through were (I said I've seen everything and I meant it) I accepted it. How stupid was I.

Within weeks of beginning we were shunted into a dark limited box of what we could create as 'art.' If it wasn't a plant with fresh, almost plastic, leaves in a pretty little terracotta pot we did not see it for at least a month. It was meant to harness our skills, not like the shocking portraits we'd done for years, but they did neither let us venture elsewhere or teach us the skills. We just descended into a despairing spiral of very badly drawn leaves.

Art had to be realistic. The object had to be in front of you. Now I accept that this is the best way of learning shading and shape but it is not the best way to express yourself. We became so entrapped by the education system's version of art that when they finally let us free to paint so merrily to music (as we used to the year before) we froze solidly, unable to let the brush do the talking. It had to be straight, perfect, shaped and formed. I had so many breakdowns and moments crying outside the art block I can't count. I felt like my creativity had been sapped against my will.

I managed somehow, I can't say I produced the best art in those three years but I did my god damn best to rebel against the system. They wanted shitty little drawings of keys? They got them, but that also got the keys draped on the beauty of the female form, as a woman held her keys while talking on the phone. I broke every rule, I changed every topic to suit myself and somehow I emerged comfortably in the top grade available.

So I entered AS Level Art confident. I'd beat the system and after a break from torturous educational art I was adamant I could do it again. I, more than anything, just wanted to win and prove that art didn't have to be perfect. I wasn't perfected and neither was anything I was producing at the time. Even now I dislike the majority of what I do but to me, that is art. Two weeks in I'd failed to paint a damn thing and I, after a meeting with my disappointed art teacher, said fuck it (internally of course) and quit the subject.

You see art isn't what they tell you it is. You can smear gloopy acrylic paint across a canvas and call it art and it's just as beautiful as the Mona Lisa if you want it to be. In fact to use it as an example the Mona Lisa is not the same art style as some of these perfectly realistic paintings but by god is it a classic. We couldn't do that in education. It took me years post AS Art shambles to be able to comfortably paint again. I can open my sketch book and do whatever I want to whatever degree of success. My doodles are as perfect as my classic portraits- I'm not trapped by a style or a standard.

Art has to change. Especially for the most creative of children who want to express themselves in whatever way they deem fit, our approach to creativity must change. Instead of placing a shitty B&Q plant pot in front of a gawping child try showing them the architectural works of Gaudi or the visual masterpieces of Rembrandt- tell them how fantastic they can be if they form their own style.

Am I the best at acrylics? No, I'm far too heavy handed and use them more like oils than acrylics. My style is scratchy and not very neat or well blended. But I love it. It's mine just as much as Rembrandt's is Rembrandt's. It's the 'Nixon' style.

And that is how art should be.

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2014 Me in Music

I tend to write a lot of serious stuff, wouldn't you agree? The first thing I say whenever somebody asks about my blog is that I would hate it to be a vessel for me personally and that I would rather let my writing speak for itself than go on and on about myself and subjects that aren't quite relevant to my ethos. But, while a good thing to stand for, my fixation on having an aesthetically pleasing place for my self expression is not necessarily healthy and today I just didn't want to be so serious. Apparently I'm quite the interesting person?

Initially I planned to write something along the lines of how immersing yourself into the scary world of adulthood goes and this lead me to think about my last year of 'childhood' (do we even call it that at 17, nothing I did was childish) and particularly how formative it was for me in terms of music. I mean we all love music whether it's for catharsis when you're sobbing into a pillow post break up or loud booming beats at a sweaty club on your first ever night out, music is the way to go to make sense of the weirdness of the teenage world around you.

Weirdly enough though it served as less of a staple in my emotional growth and rather a way of marking moments in time. This explains to me why I remember so much of 2014 in comparison to other years (as well as being the last good year I can think of prior to this year)- it was the year of my AS/A Levels, the start of my first serious relationship and the year I ventured off abroad for what was the first time in forever. So yes, it was good times and I thought what better to remember that than to present to you the soundtrack to my seventeen-hood.

Before I delve into the tracks I'm going to pop the Spotify link to the playlist at the bottom of this post in case you (oddly) want to get into the mindset of what I was way like back in 2014.

~ Agora- Bear Hands ~

If you're miraculously awake at 9:30 on a Sunday morning I'd highly recommend watching Sunday Brunch on Channel 4, if not for the delicious food it also boasts some good ol' chit cat and some excellent new music just before and after the adverts. Anyway this was where I discovered Bear Hands and most importantly Agora which has become a personal favourite. It really touched a nerve with my anxious, slightly agoraphobic 17 year old self but in a strangely good way, funny how music can make you feel better about your quirks. It's got a pretty sick beat as well.

~ Shark In The Water- V V Brown ~

From what I remember this wasn't released in 2014 so I debated leaving it off the list however it just wouldn't be right to ignore this goldie, when it did first come out I wasn't that into the song but cue Spring 2014 with my newfound home of Durham riverside and the beaming sunshine and suddenly this little summer anthem found it's place in my heart. It collided with a time in my life when things were finally picking up after years of anxiety and struggling, I finally found new friends at sixth form whom I could chill with down by the river in between subjects. What better song to blast in the sunny afternoons than this jem.

~ A Sky Full of Stars- Coldplay ~

I did suggest before that music can mark a period in time and that I think most people can relate to, weeks or months where a song just fits the mood so well but this song happens to cover quite the day in my history. I'd heard it buzzing away in the Saturday ventures to HMV through the speakers and thought it was quite nice. So there it went on my iPhone ready for the nighttime coach ride to Gatwick for the Sixth Form Italy trip. Unbeknown to everybody else on that coach the hours before we left on that amazing adventure had contained quite the strangely uncomfortable series of events and this song, while it played someway probably down the A1(M) really comforted me. It even persuaded me to buy a star printed jumper.

~ Clarity- Zedd, Foxes ~

Who could forget this popular banger? I wouldn't have, prior to this, ever embraced this kind of music. I was at that age where it wasn't cool to like popular music- you had to be indie or able to list thirty-something alternative bands nobody else had heard of to qualify as a bonafide music lover. This song though, it was too special and good to not say fuck it and allow this zit of pop history to rear it's ugly head on my beautiful indie playlist. The beat perfectly captures the feeling of the summer nights post AS when life was just innocently passing by, before we all had cares and stresses. To cut a long story short, you have grown on me Zedd, I'm sorry for being so difficult.

~ Rather Be- Clean Bandit, Jess Glynne ~

I may as well introduce this the same way as I did with Clarity, ok? Once you get bitten by the pop bug you're pretty much destined for long car drives with BBC1 blasting from your top notch stereo system while your Dad clasps his hands over his ears in agony, wishing you'd return to your days of Smooth Radio lovin'. I have to admit this song persuaded me to make some pretty unfortunate decisions, the go getting vibe wound me up taking work less seriously and love more so. It's not like you had to go through such effort to hear it, the bloomin' thing was everywhere.

~ stay- Lewis Watson ~

Can we take a moment for how beautiful this piece of music is?


(Moment had)

Great! I think I may have heard this one on Sunday Brunch as well as Agora but I'm not quite sure. I do remember this being popular however, at least in my inner circle of music loving friends and it's another one that perfectly sums up Summer pre A2 woes and being slammed for my distinct lack of life choices. Stay is so peaceful and so stunning, I used to listen to it post driving lessons when I was so stressed and disappointed because my left hand turns, like my life, weren't on fleek. Unfortunately I don't ever remember picking up the album which is a huge regret. Maybe I should? Not like my bank account would agree.

~ Riptide- Vance Joy ~

Set the scene- it's June 2014, in my lovestruck haste I choose to visit Newcastle University (it's been a long time coming babe) instead of my previous love Bangor. My Dad, thrilled at his shortened drive, drops me and my Mum off at the campus. We are greeted by yellow shirted smiling students (smile and wave boys, smile and wave) and pointed to a campus tour. A Sheldon Cooper Chemistry student look-a-like (Chemistry, pfft, he was so close) and we stand next to the SU ready to begin- and this awesome song comes on and bam, it just feels like Summer. It may have been that moment in time that sold me the university and to this day is why I had such a long lasting positive opinion, you know when you just know something is right? Thank you Vance Joy. You unintentionally partially decided my future for me.

~ Like I Can- Sam Smith ~

Sam Smith bae was at his peak in this era and I cannot understand why 'Like I Can' wasn't more successful. The video in particular showcased smartly dressed young men wandering around looking very debonair (come to think of it maybe that's why, chicks don't dig that anymore, sob) and Sam's smooth voice just melts your heart as he points out the disappointing people in your life and why he, not just because he is Sam Smith, would obviously be better. You're right Sam, you're so right. They can leave.

~ Chandelier- Sia ~

Did anybody not fall in love with Sia over Chandelier? Wrongly, as she had made excellent music in the years prior, I didn't notice our Queen and her voice before this song came out and even then it's took me a few more years and 'This is Acting' to become utterly obsessed and have a genuine problem when somebody asks me to turn her off in the car in favour of the swinging sixties album. No Mum, I will not. I mean this woman's voice is just incredible, her lyrics are so intelligent and captivating- it really speaks so well of what it's like to be a young woman with such confidence but such instability. The soundtrack to every historical drama tribute I've ever watched, Chandelier is a stunning track. I'd highly recommend every song she's ever done on every album and every appearance.

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/sophielbubs/playlist/3i3Od1FqWDabH44acppbzk

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Feminism.

Yes, we're going there and yes, I'm as terrified as you are. Last week I sent out a little SOS on the blog's Facebook Page (link up there if you haven't already liked it- shameless self promotion, I know) and Kieran requested I do a post on feminism and LGBTQ+ issues. Now I feel personally that LGBTQ+ and all of it's surrounding topics really deserves a complete post to itself so I'm going to separate them and give both of these topics the in depth love they deserve.

Starting with feminism. Oh god help me.

There is a very big reason why I am so nervous to discuss something like this and why, on previous blog posts about equality, I haven't really touched it. And that is because feminism, while massively important, is so divisive and gets such a backlash from people who don't quite understand it. But, like the brave person I am and with a wealth of experience as a left winger under the control of my wealthy overlords, I'm going to go there. Eat me alive, I dare you.

Do I identify as a feminist? Short answer would be yes but it's not as simple as that. I agree with feminism as an umbrella for thoughts, like a literary text can be interpreted so can feminism. You can go hardcore if it pleases you and yes sometimes that's how we make change. We wouldn't have got the vote without the drastic actions of women who wouldn't take no for an answer. Feminism, in my opinion, is always at it's most powerful when it is quiet. The pen, as they say, is mightier than the sword. You can make big waves with small motions (sounds less cool) and for me writing is the best way I can promote my thoughts on the matter.

But remember I said it's not as simple as that. Feminism gets attacked maliciously by people labeling them as 'man haters' and 'nutters' or 'psychos' or similar words. Feminism doesn't mean hating men. A lot of men are feminists and support feminist ideals, it wouldn't make sense to hate others- they're simply supporting the other sex. Because as crazy as this seems men don't have equality in certain areas of society either. I touched on this in a post way back at the start of this blog but men still have fewer places in certain university course, higher suicide rates and are less likely to get help with their mental health.

So what I'm essentially saying is that yes, I am a feminist but I also support equality as a whole and various issues that impact on both men and women and those who are non-binary or genderfluid. I just support people, is that so hard to understand?

Moving on, how does feminism affect me? In ways I like to think of myself as a pretty confident, self-assured and disciplined young woman. I run my own blog, I'm doing my own degree soon and I market myself in the best way I can. All of this I try to do without emphasis on my gender or sex. I am a writer and I'd like to think my words speak more volumes than what I have between my legs.

Sometimes I feel tempted to write posts that you may identify more with feminine/female bloggers- those stereotypical girl issues and I always hit the same brick wall where I can't do it because I feel like I'm putting my work at a disadvantage- like I'm narrowing my readership. Will people judge my work differently if the topic sways towards either a specific gender or sex? Will you have already clicked off this post because feminism is too divisive for you or too radical? Will you be more likely to read a post on a non-gender specific issue than if I mentioned makeup or skincare or prom dreses?

Yes I'm not that kind of blogger and those kind of things would never cross my mind as blog posts but I still shouldn't feel that way.  If at anytime I wanted to change the direction of my blog I should feel at ease doing so. I tried running a similar kind of blog to what I've mentioned but I couldn't fit in with the stereotype I felt like society imposed on me.

So that's feminism to me. Take from it what you will but most important please don't bite. I am merely the messenger.

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Driving and owning a car

Disclaimer: Apologies for the god awful photo. I am the world's worst blogger and yes this was done in an absolute rush.

I have been a car mother for going three years now, it'll be that long since I started learning to drive in December and it's certainly been eye opening and I don't just mean learning to drive. Getting your actual shiny pink licence is only the beginning of your troubles and the whopping great big toll on your finances that occurs post getting a car really takes the biscuit. The biscuits you can't afford because her highness needs petrol.

And yes I name my cars and yes the delight you can see in the picture is my little princess and bane of my life Poppy (she just looked like a Poppy, ok?) but she is not my first car that was my beloved Max the Corsa (god rest his soul) who I hope is still in existence despite the fact he was bought by a girl with a history of writing off cars. I got him just after Christmas in December 2014 and the great thing about provisional insurance is it is less of a nightmare than real insurance, just. I managed to get a policy with Adrian Flux I believe for around £500, my Mam included and this set me aside enough time to pass my test come August 2015.

With the biggest thanks to Sue from Sue & Steve Driving (and apologies for being a nightmare with incredibly low self esteem) I passed my test with a single minor which in retrospect really wasn't anything much and even the examiner barely wanted to count it. So all in all I did good and then it all went to pot. See I was in a low paying job and could not afford insurance at all of any kind. I eventually made a deal with my parents to split the insurance down the middle and come October when I got an actual job (more on this later) I was paying £60 a month + tax + MOT + fuel for the freedom of going out when I like.

This was ok and then I lost my job. I cannot begin to express how bliddy hard it is to budget in order to make money last when you have a car and no job. Thankfully I had loving parents who helped me with all the important things and expected nothing from me however it still sucked. Come March however I got another job and not long after that said farewell to Max and hello to my gorgeous Vauxhall Agila Poppy.

Poppy was when I really started driving. I wasn't a nervous driver but I never really had the need to drive on roads that were unknown to me because I pretty much lived and survived on my test routes. With Poppy however events occurred that meant I had to travel more and this certainly opens you up to the wonders of the road. Nobody is perfect but there are plenty of arseholes out there that test their luck, you just have to ignore them and keep yourself safe. It certainly riles people when you aren't zooming down the duel carriageway at 90mph but there is no need. It used to stress me out getting overtaken constantly but now I don't care, I'm alive and that's what matters.

Poppy however is more expensive than Max was bar her road tax. Come the time my insurance needed renewing it didn't drop that much and to be fair I was really disappointed. Keep in mind that as a young driver it is so hard to get cheap insurance, some people like black boxes but I didn't find any policies at the time that were worth getting one. I'd definitely recommend shopping around on comparison sites and don't be disheartened when nearly every company refuses to insure you- it happens.

On the plus side owning a car is so liberating. Not having to rely on a tragic bus service to get you from A to B means more time for yourself and the important things in life like friends and family. You get to repay your lovely Mam and Dad for all the years they've ferried you about (even if they aren't always the best passengers.) You're the first person your friends call when they need a lift and the person with sole responsibility for the tunes that get played. Not to mention you do feel quite swaggy rolling up in the petrol station like the adult you are.

All in all it's been a weird and wild few years but I wouldn't have it any other way. While expensive the perks of having a car definitely out weigh the negatives and if anything it's an valuable life experience. And sunglasses holders, they're pretty rad too.

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Media does matter

Hello strangers. I know, I apologise, I have been a crap blogger/writter/whatever lately and I hold my hands up and say I've got no excuses to give. I just haven't felt like writing lately and to be fair I would rather write nothing at all than write something with no heart or effort in it. It has been in general quite an up and down month but fingers crossed things will start to pick up and you'll get some quality Sophie pieces very soon. For now you have this.

Anyway on with the blog post. This idea sprung to mind at a job interview I had the other week at a lovely cafe near my hometown. The woman herself with wonderful and someone I definitely would have loved to have as a boss had the circumstances been different. One thing she said in particular during this interview and stuck with me and during my dry period of ideas has been the only thing I could think of to turn into a blog post. I had informed her politely that I couldn't continue doing the job, that I later had to decline, at the same level of commitment as I would want to because I was starting my degree- to which she said bluntly "Oh you're doing a media degree, that's nothing."

First of all I am not doing a straight forward media degree. My degree is primarily journalism based with some modules in media because this is what my university specialises in and chose to feature in the journalism degree they created. To explain simply it's a major/minor degree, kind of like what they do in the US, where I focus primarily on journalism but do aspects of media to give me a rounded view of what it's like to work as a journalist in the media industry. Second of all media, god how many times do I have to stress this, is not easy.

Yes it isn't medicine or a BSC in Science, it isn't History or Classics with all of its books and essays- but it is challenging in its own way. While academically challenging subjects pose their own struggles media courses and degrees often have a lot of independent work and hands on activities that you don't see in a standard 'difficult' degree. 

My secondary school didn't do a media option so the first I heard of the hate media gets was at sixth form where media was an option. I didn't take media because I preferred the academic subjects that my sixth form had on offer but this isn't to say I never showed an interest. The subjects I did take led me to take journalism and yes I am well aware I could have done just that. I am lucky to have had a range of offers for university- a straight forward journalism degree, journalism and english literature, film and media and the offer I accept for journalism, media and culture. I chose the option I did because I wanted to go to Newcastle, I don't care if people give me shit for having media in my degree title.

I don't think people realise how key media is in our everyday lives. While you aren't performing live saving surgery or developing drugs to fight diseases with a media degree/qualification you are playing an important role in our everyday lives. Think how much of the day you spend watching TV, consuming film or being active on social media? Having any kind of media qualification or experience is hugely vital in the modern world. Media has grown so much in my lifetime, now having that experience and your foot in the door can open you up to a whole realm of possibilities in one of the biggest growing markets in the world. Like technology media jobs and growing and expanding and yes- you could do traditional qualifications and move into media later but why not do something you love to begin with?

Media does matter and it doesn't make you any less successful to pursue it.

  

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Villagers

We're village people- not the band no, the kind who were lucky enough to be raised in a secluded homely environment without the noise and pollution of the city (take note however, later I will prove this is far from true.) Living in a village has it's perks and it's something that's defined my character over the years and made me a bit of a homebird if I stray too far away. However it certainly has it's quirks and downfalls as well and these are what I will be lovingly outlining for you today. If you have ever resided in a village at some point in your life you will know the following:

~ Public Transport is Shit ~

Probably the biggest pet peeve I have about my home is how bloody appalling the local bus service is. IF and only IF they turn up (which is highly unlikely) it will be in the most battered and bruised pile of shitty metal that Go North East (or your relevant bus company) has on offer. It will more than likely break down before you get to the next down and if you dare (and I mean god damn dare) try and use it at peak time you will find yourself unable to depart said nightmare because school children are blocking the exit. Please little terrors, use your own bus service. It has to be better than this. Honorable mentions are the lack of trains, airports or even trams. I'd take a tram, seriously.

~ Everybody 'knows' you ~

The old man from the other side of the village, the creepy aunt like figure who runs the corner shop, the overly happy couple who moved down the road that we have yet to break- they all say hello. I can't count the amount of times I've been out walking with my Mam and some randomer has said hello and I've had to ask her who they were (Mam's know everybody right?) only to be told she's never seen them in her life. Cue running down the back lane in horror before you get kidnapped and forced to watch Bargain Hunt. It's lovely really but also weirdly unnerving. Nothing screws your brain over more than trying to remember if you've maybe had an altercation with a 95 year old man at some point in your short life.

~ 'THAT' Village Hall ~
You know the one- that awkwardly positioned concrete block that only sees the light of day during local/general elections (like we need any more of those) or ill-fated events, the ones you see scribbled in crayons by children on boards outside that nobody ever attends. It's a good attempt at community spirit but an unsuccessful one. You're more likely to meet people and bond at the local co-op over the rising price of milk and bread. Friends are made here.

~ Boozers ~
Up until some years back my village had a LOT of pubs. Pub here, pub there, pubs everywhere! As every anti-government document will tell you we have been royally screwed over and pubs are shutting at an alarming rate. Terrible for the community but quite nice when the majority of your childhood was spent waking up at 3am on a Saturday to the sound of "GARY'S FUCKING PISSED" and a middle aged bald man slamming face first onto the pavement outside your house. I always wonder how Gary is and what he does with his life now we only have a very dead working man's club on the other side. Let's take a moment for the Gary's of the world.

~ Car Parking Spaces ~
You have an overwhelming amount of them considering there is next to nothing in your village yet it is still a fight to the death. If I want to park outside the Co op for five seconds to grab a meal deal this requires precise timing and ninja skills at parking. War has been declared when some chav in his pimped out Corsa steals your spot with the traditional 'Oi Oi' as his succesful battle cry. Don't start me on back lanes as well, trying to park after returning from a day out requires weaving around curiously parked cars like your on some Top Gear racetrack. You're only safe when you're on your drive. 

Of course I loved growing up in a village. It's peaceful to an extent and it's nice not having the hustle and bustle of a city to contend with as well as every other kind of teenage angst you have to deal with in your pre-adult existence. Would I stay here for life? Maybe, maybe not. After all the world is your oyster and villages? They're the beardy bit you have to remove.

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Guide to Panic Attacks

"I don't know how to help you Sophie" is something I would hear time after time when I had frequent panic attacks. Still now when the occasion rises I am forced to keep myself to myself, around those who are uncertain of how to deal with it, in order not to cause a fuss. I become the problem which I should not be, it is not my fault I am having a panic attack- nor is it yours. This is my PSA to you on how to deal if you ever find yourself in a situation with somebody who has anxiety. Friends, family, colleagues- everybody can benefit from being a little more open minded. So come on.

Sadly it isn't as simple as a bullet point list of this and that. Yet it is fairly straight forward if you just take your time to get to know the person in question. Ask them, knowing they experience anxiety, what makes them calm? This is vital. Sometimes I find comfort in hugs when I am anxious as my attacks are never violent. Glasses of water to maintain hydration are a must, being anything other than at your best is a prerequisite for trouble, plus it normally convinces me I'm not going to pass out (even though the adrenaline won't let that happen.) I also like chit chat, ask me about funny things I like or have seen or would like to do- it takes your mind off the anxiety. This differs from person to person but takes seconds to find out.

Don't leave them. You may feel tempted to distance yourself from those who are experiencing a panic attack because it looks strange or unnerving to you. I can completely understand as I still struggle to maintain composure around people who have psychotic episodes- some things take more knowledge and experience than others and in cases of extreme anxiety the person may need extra assistance or diagnosis. It is important however if the person feels vulnerable that you don't leave them. Being alone may cause them more agony and I know being alone myself when I'm having a panic attack is scary- especially at night.

If the person is in a state and you aren't their closest ally I'd recommend calling somebody they trust. A soothing voice can do wonders and a person who is willing to take time out of their schedule and make their way to the location is exactly what a sufferer needs- we love you people! It may be inconvenient for you but panic attacks are often over within about five to twenty-five minutes. You can make it easier for the person to calm down if you don't appear in a rush.

Don't judge them for things they say. I spout verbal diarrhoea when I'm panicking and often say things I don't mean or can't articulate. If something sounds odd don't make a big deal out of it. As well as this be reassuring if the person starts saying they feel "like they're going to die" or "pass out" or "I'm so scared" because these are clear signs of heightened anxiety.

It's terrifying I know but you can be so helpful by lending a hand to somebody in need. It's not always physical illness that causes suffering to those in our society. Mental Illness is a huge problem as well. I'd hugely advise reading up on specific illnesses and doing your research if you're genuinely concerned about somebody around you and want to help. Don't be the person to ignore somebody else's plight.  

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