Hopefulness and helping hands.

I promise a Uni related post is pending; the books have arrived, the module site is open and the new notebooks are purchased. Since the module site only opened on Friday though and, as I;ll explain, it's been a bit hectic since then I haven't actually started yet. The whingeing is imminent though, I promise.

Lack of uni work notwithstanding this weekend has definitely been an eventful one.

As North East folks with a Facebook may have noticed a campaign was started recently with the aim of raising funds and gathering donations to take to 'The Jungle' in Calais in an attempt to offer a small amount of support, solidarity and compassion to the people currently stranded there as they await an opportunity to finish their journey. The group is based on this Facebook group and as I'm writing this I've just had a check and seen they're in excess of 7,00 members, it's an amazing campaign and one that thoroughly deserves all the support they've had.
As you can probably tell from the membership number this campaign to offer a small amount of solidarity has appropriately expanded beyond what I think even the organisers could have envisioned and spiraled into a giant campaign of thousands of people throughout the North East donating, fundraising and offering support. So much so that this Saturday the amazingly efficient organising team behind the campaign had arranged for (correct me if I'm wrong on this) five 'Sorting Days' throughout the region to tame the every growing mountain of donations into arranged, sorted and labelled aid to be sent to Calais (and I believe in the future other refugee camps throughout Europe, although as with anything like this I'm assuming this is dependent on how the situation in Europe progresses).

The fact that I'm not able to really financially support campaigns like this as much as I'd ideally like to (ie. at all really) combined with the absolute sense of outrage I get every time I read an article/Facebook post/Tweet about the appalling way Europe have neglected millions of people in their time of need means that I obviously had to sign up to help.

As with anything that involves walking into a room (possibly) full of people there was some major anxiety at play. The only thing more worrying than having to walk into a room full of people (late, as always) was the nagging worry that I could be walking into a room not full of people. That despite the huge outpouring of online support and donations the Daily Mail theory of 'Slacktivism' would win out in the end.

I could not have physically been more wrong.

I can only talk about my experience at the South Shields sorting day but from what I've seen online the response was pretty much the same at all the locations.

The room for sorting had been kindly loaned by the local mosque and it was packed. From the enormous pile of donations in the centre of the room, the tables of organising supplies (well done to the geniuses who thought of the sharpies and cable ties) to most importantly the wall to wall bodies of volunteers. There was not a space in that room, every section of floor not covered in boxes of donations had a volunteer stood in. And not just a volunteer but a cheerful, enthusiastic volunteer, determined to help as much as they could in the time they had.
I was there for a few hours and saw people arrive, frantically run around helping for a few hours and reluctantly leave as well as people who arrived before I did, worked constantly and were still buzzing around when I left. The atmosphere of that room was amazing and something I'm struggling to put into accurate words.

More than anything else it felt hopeful, people were there for their own individual reasons of course but the uniting factor was the desire to help. To not be stood by aimlessly while fellow humans suffer. To be able to go to sleep that night knowing that 'no, I maybe cant change the world, but at least today I helped improve it slightly for a few people'.

Watching a room full of people from all background and of all ages (children included) transform a pile of assorted donations into boxed and labelled stacks so efficiently that we then got extra donations sent over to sort was amazing. The only thing more reassuring than that was taking a trip to the warehouse the donations are being stored at once sorted to drop a few boxes off. That place is huge (as in, you could park several buses inside and still have a football game) and it's absolute stacked up with boxes and bags. The piles go so much higher than I could have reached and are stacked so far off the wall it's unbelievable. The generosity is amazing and seeing it happen is was an absolute honour.

Not only was my Saturday spent seeing the amazing folks of the North East show how truly generous and caring they are but my Sunday was spent learning pretty similar lesson but in a considerably more painful way. My fourth Great North Run was another amazing chance to see how excellent people can be.
Running 13.1 (cant forget the .1) miles is awful. Doing it in the sun is even worse. But somehow doing it with 56,999 other people is amazing. The determination of all those people to make it through either in an amazing time, a personal best or just plain make it to the end is genuinely inspiring. And equally amazing are the literally thousands of people who turn out to watch, to cheer everyone on, to offer up ice pops when it's too hot and jelly babies when you're starting to run out of energy.
There is literally nothing you get for turning up to watch this run except the satisfaction of making someones run that bit easier, making someone smile even through their horrific muscle cramps, and knowing that when people are thinking about stopping you might be the thing that keeps then going those extra few steps.

I think that's really been the whole theme of my weekend: watching amazing people do brilliant things just for the sheer satisfaction of helping each other.
There' a really cliched phrase that I'm going to use anyway because it sums it all up so perfectly:

"Be the change you want to see in the world"

That literally is what I've seen all weekend. People who refuse to sit around and complain about whats happening in the world and have realised that they have the power to change it.
I've never felt so proud to be from the North East as I was this weekend, watching people set out to change the world.

Europe's refugee crisis; nationalism and a lack of empathy.

I thought about posting this on Facebook, I actually had most of it written out and then I realised that (apart from the fact that this blog and my Facebook have a similar readership of about 4) a Facebook seems to have something flippant about it.
It's similar to an off the cuff tweet, sort of impulsive and emotional and something you do without thinking and I want there to be no doubt that this is an issue I think about. A lot.
It's an issue I cry over. A lot. An issue that raises so many moral questions about my life that it could be considered obtrusive.
The overall issue is that of living in a world so divided by Nationalism and the overwhelming need to succeed in capitalist society that we happily throw each other under the metaphorical bus every day for the sole purpose of 'furthering' ourselves in the bizarre system we've created.
In this context though it's very specific: the crisis facing millions of refugees as the attempt to safely enter Europe.

I should point out right now that I fully understand the millions of displaced people do not come from Syria alone. There are many other nations that have suffered and where it is no longer safe for these people to continue there lives, such as Afghanistan and Eritrea, but for the purpose of this rant, and in keeping with the tabloid obsession with forcing everyone into a 'National' box based on their first country of residence I may end up saying 'Syrian' more than I'd like. Just a heads up that it's not me being ignorant, it's just purely the way the data and legislation is presented.

This whole rant came about when I seen a link to what I assumed was a parody article entitled "Syrian child refugees 'to be deported at 18'" (1). Surely this was some kind of joke, possible one at the expense of the policy making geniuses over at Britain First? Maybe a Daily Mail parody?
Sadly not. It's a legitimate article from today's Independent about a policy that Britain as a country genuinely seems to support. Not only that, the policy isn't even some ridiculous kneejerk reaction put in place in line with Cameron begrudgingly allowing a tiny amount of refugees through the UK it's am existing policy (2). 
The wording is set up to allow a modicum of discretion but in the age of endless cut backs and austerity the message to local authorities is clear: once these children turn 18 they're not your problem. And that really just seems to emphasise the way we think about people and in particular people who had the misfortune to be born in an oil laden part of the world requiring American authorised 'freedom'.

When an unknown amount of people died attempting to cross into the UK from Calais (3) as a country we sat and watched.
Some of us watched horrified.
Some couldn't watch anymore and started putting together plans to help
But the overwhelming majority just sat and watched.
Not to mention the intolerably hateful people who not only watched but actively objected.
Actively wished ill on fellow human beings for having the sheer audacity to strive towards a safe life for themselves and their families.

When photos of a handful of children showed up on Facebook. Children in nappies and pigtails washed up on an unnamed beach.
Those of us who seen them were horrified.
But for the vast majority those haunting photo's passed them by and they went about as normal.

Then Aylan Kurdi's short, tragic life ended. It ended in an unspeakably terrifying way, in a situation no-one should ever be in. And, in what is bizarrely imperative to the British public, it ended in a way which was able to be widely circulated in social and traditional media.

I feel like right here is where I need to point out how devastating those photos are, seeing that small child cradled on the beach is heart wrenching and I don't want to in anyway seem to be belittling the tragedy. My point isn't about that individual tragedy. It's about the wider attitude Britain seems to have towards refugees.

When we saw those photos there was an immediate response, people wanted action and demanded refugees be allowed to safely enter and it was absolutely amazing. The strength of emotion and outpouring of support for those trying to make it to safety was incredible.

But then, as usual, nationalist thinking prevailed.

Because as a society we don't want to see children hurt, our instincts tell us they must be protected and cherished and the majority of the time we will do all we can to ensure that happens.
Once they're not children though? Well that's a different story.

It would seem that we live in a country that will happily welcome children, show them the peace and safety of life in the UK and then send them to the very country they originally fled from once they're old enough to fully partake in the society they've spent their childhoods immersed in.

It's hard not to draw a parallel with the 'Pro-life' movement of the US. It's the same basic principle, invest as much time and effort as possible in making sure the focus of your concern (in their case fetus', in this case children) is safe from any possible harm and then once your limited period of concern has expired, leave them with nothing.

Helping children escape from the horrifying conditions of war and terror is without a doubt something we need to focus as much of our effort and resources as possible on but it cant just stop there.
Parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, friends, regardless of age deserve the same.

The idea that being born in a specific part of the world, through nothing other than sheer fluke luck, entitles any of us to a greater quality of life than the refugees currently stranded in Calais, Kos, and Hungary (among others) is toxic.

Before we can congratulate ourselves for having the basic human compassion to be upset by the suffering of others we need to prevent so many conditions being imposed on that compassion.
We need to stop demanding the best for our 'Country' and start demanding the best for our world.
We need to hold the lives of all children to the standards we expect for our own.
We need to ensure the same basic rights we expect for ourselves are expected for all people.

The Ultimate Guilt Trip.

One of the things I think I’ve neglected to talk about in any depth on this blog or anywhere particularly is one of the most major differences between being an actual student and being an older part full time OU student: parenting.

Not my own obviously, they’re totally normal. But parenting while being a student. And working full time. And doing the many other things I seem to find myself signed up to every year.

One of my (many) major concerns when I started to consider signing up for OU a few years ago was the impact it would have on my family. Working full time means, as I’m sure most working parents will tell you, a constant stream of guilt.

Guilt about whether you’re doing the right thing. Guilt about whether you’re around enough. Guilt about not being at home. Guilt about clinging onto your kids when you are at home. Guilt from the media. Guilt from everyone childless Facebook friend you have explaining why you’re ‘doing it wrong’.

It never stops and eventually, as your child grows up and, despite the Daily Mails assurances otherwise, becomes a functioning, happy little person it dulls down to a kind of humming background noise. Something you’re vaguely aware of but that no longer compromises your ability to trust that you’re doing just fine.

My daughter had reached the age where the barely audible background humming of the guilt no longer had any impact on my life. She was a happy, intelligent, polite little princess who never gave any indication she felt she’d missed out by not having a stay at home mam. The concern with adding University studies into the mix was whether it would push it too far and reach a point where her quality of life (and parenting) was compromised.

In the end it came down to blind faith and the knowledge that if I tried and failed I’d not be any worse off than having never tried and as always my never ending trust that things will work out how they’re supposed to.

I think in reality the saving grace of this whole thing was the OU set up. Without the ability to do Uni work at 10pm when she was already in bed, or to sit and do reading on the sofa while watching films with her, or to pack ‘Uni’ into a bag and take both it and her to a grandparents for a few hours there’s no way it would have went this smoothly.

I’m heading into my final year now and I’ve spoken to my daughter a few times about Uni. About why I’m doing it, what I study, and how it works and I think as much as it’s been an education for me it’s certainly been a bit of an education for her too. The guilt of missing the occasional Saturday with her to go to Tutorials or asking her if she’s Ok to watch a film rather than go out so I can get some reading done is awful and it undoubtedly tinges the whole process with a fine film of guilt. But crucially it’s taught her a huge amount too.

It’s taught her that Uni is bloody hard work. It’s taught her that you can always make time for what you want to do. It’s taught her to follow your passions rather than your capitalist intentions. And it’s taught her that hard work pays off.

She’s seen me sitting endlessly highlighting huge books, sitting writing essays when she gets up through the night to go to the bathroom and spending days of a holiday at a desk revising for an exam.

But she’s also seen me pass my modules. She’s seen the revision pay off in my exam results. She’s seen the satisfaction of making it this far.

And hopefully next year she’ll see the end result at my graduation.

I think we’ve both learned a major lesson from this whole endeavour. She’s learnt that hard work pays off and no matter how difficult something is if you want it enough there’s always a way. And I’ve learned to block out the guilt and have more faith in my own instincts.

Kids are adaptable. They enjoy what they have. And they don’t read tabloid newspapers.

A Change is as Good as a Rest?

Since I finished my exams in June (AND FLIPPIN' PASSED) I've had a spare bit of time kicking around. Obviously I'm still at work and still have many, many things to do to keep an eight year old entertained (top parent tip: dont go rollerblading no matter how bored your kids are) but for the most part I dont have any large amount of uni work and crippling anxiety of impending exams to keep me busy (because I passed).
My two October modules have been confirmed (because I passed my exam) but until they start theres a big ol' stressful hole in my evenings.

I figured as a politics student the best way to fill this would be to get off my lazy butt and go be the change and other such cliches. Being a massive hippy and already a Green Party member they seemed like as good a place as any to start so I've devoted a bit of my summer to trying bottle my anxiety up enough to actually be able to have some kind of input and to be honest it's been excellent.
I'd met some of the local Green folks on the bus to the End Austerity Now demo in London in June and helpfully they were all pretty much how I expected Green supporters to be (lovely, welcoming, chilled out folks).
I've previously been to a People's Assembly planning meeting and while I think they do amazing work the atmosphere and general organisational structure of them is definitely not for me so I was a bit nervous about sticking my blue headed, conspicuous head around a door to a meeting.
Thankfully it all went better than could be expected and has been a real eye opener of how much work goes on behind the scenes of these things.
I intended to just spend a few months doing what I can before uni comes back around but unfortunately I've ended up a bit invested so I think this may just be another thing to add to the ever increasing list.

Now back to the point of this whole tangent: the blog.

Obviously I have a few different blogs but to be honest this one get's used pretty regularly and is the only one linked to my real life social media accounts so I tend to class it as my main personal blog.
It's been predominantly focused on me dragging myself kicking and screaming towards my degree but now that I'm going into what should be my final year (I passed my exams for this year, did I mention that?) I'm feeling a bit more chilled about the whole thing and less like I need to vent about it to strangers online.

So with that being said I think I'm going to start using this as more of a blog blog if that makes sense.
Think rants that are too long for Twitter and too furious for Facebook.
And if you still read this thing after that then gosh effing bless you.

P.s.

I think I forgot to mention it but I passed my exams. 
Just incase anyone was wondering.

Summer Break Blog Spamming

I had a terrifying moment a few minutes ago where I logged onto this blog and seen my last update was November 2014. This terrifying moment was made worse when I realised we're now in July 2015 and I haven't actually updated.
So have the ramble about Uni that I'm sure everyone's been desperate for.

As far as the actual courses themselves go I really don't have much to say to be honest.

My much beloved Politics tutor has to leave halfway through the year and I was really quickly assigned another one who seemed lovely but was quite far away. I cant actual fault anyone involved thought, the OU were brilliant in the circumstances and the new tutor could not have made anymore effort so thumbs up to all involved.

My social science module was pretty much the same as last year but thanks to a lack of emotional breakdowns I managed to make it through the module this time and (without being an arrogant bitch) I'm reasonably confident I've managed to pass.

The main trauma from this year has undoubtedly been the absolute terror of having to take a formal written exam. I literally have made it through two years of uni without having to suffer this fate but unfortunately I seem to have only put off the inevitable as the only way to pass this years Politics module was to take (and pass) the exam.
The last exams I took were GCSE's and to be brutally honest they were an absolute, well, a word I probably shouldn't use on this blog so let's just say they were less than successful. The grand total of 3 passing grade GCSE's I managed to scrape I pretty sure were on sheer luck and a low weighting of the exam results for those particular courses. In general I think it's a fair assumption that anxious, panicky, fidgeting folk (e.g me) don't deal well with highly pressured, claustrophobic-ly silent, rigidly structured exam conditions. We just crack. Or at least I do.

I think my saving grace was having an amazing chilled out week in the Lake District before the exam which had the double bonus of giving me time to get last minute revision in and also a chance to totally relax and block out the impending terror that was waiting for me the follow week.

The exam itself wasn't nearly as terrifying once it started but unfortunately that brief lull of calm and relief on the way out the exam hall had disappeared by the next morning when the countdown to Results Day started. At the time of writing this I'm 11 days away from an envelope dropping through my letter box to tell me if I'm going into my final year in October or if I've made an unbelievable fuck up and have to resit.

I'm trying to not think about it too much and just maintain my usual faith that everything will work out the way it's supposed to (even if it seems like it's all going to hell at the time).

Fingers are definitely staying crossed for a pass which would mean I can start my last two modules in October because to be honest they sound like the most interesting ones I've done by a mile (although Power, Dissent and Equality was genuinely fascinating). That would mean next year is International Relations and Environmental Policy which are both pretty much exactly the kind of extreme nerding I'm interested in and fit pretty much exactly into the course I'm hoping to get on (finances allowing) once I finish this degree.

I guess the main thing I wanted to say was that this years done and in the meantime I've got the summer off and actual spare time again which is amazing but I'm hopefully going to use some of it to get some posts done about a few other (less uni-focussed) things going on.

In theory.