I talk to myself almost constantly when left in my own company. I always imagined I kind of whispered to myself but both my family and friends that I’ve lived with have commented that they often hear me chatting away quite loudly, and have assumed that I’m on the phone. Nope, just crazy me. I know that most people at some point or another have talked to themselves, maybe repeating things out loud or talking through something that they’re doing, but my conversations with myself are a whole new ball game. I laugh at myself, ask myself questions which I then answer, I argue various points as though I’m in a debate with someone. It’s thinking out loud on another level.
Throughout the years I’ve wondered why I do it so much. My dad also talks to himself a lot so maybe it’s genetic. He used to say, “It’s the only way I can have a sensible conversation around here”, which is obviously such a dad joke, but in a way I agree with him. I talk to myself most – as in have a real conversation with myself, not just the average muttering that other people do – when I’m thinking about a lot of things at once. I feel like I have to say my thoughts out loud or I won’t be able to make sense of them, or get them in order somehow. Not to get too amateur psychologist on myself, but I think it feels like if I don’t say something that’s important or significant when it’s in my mind then it will slip away and I won’t have cemented it into reality by vocalising it. When I thought (said) this the other day I had a mild panic that it happens because I’m not clever enough to hold multiple thoughts at one time. I have since decided that I should get over myself and carry on down the path of madness this will inevitably lead to.
I love this day. Women supporting other women will always be one of my favourite things, and this day is just 24 hours of love and admiration among the female community (and male allies of course). In my opinion, it is so important for women to recognise their greatness and shout about it from time to time because so often we’re ignored, spoken over, and shouted down. International Women’s Day gives women the opportunity to unashamedly celebrate themselves and those who inspire them. It is about the power of unity and equality. But what is also important on this day is to recognise the privilege that we do have, and hopefully become more inclusive through that recognition. Feminism is about fighting for equality, but equality is further away and harder to achieve for some. Women of colour, LGBTQ+ women, disabled women, impoverished women – the list could go on – around the world face misogyny and discrimination that is potentially life-threatening on a day to day basis. On this day, and every day, we need to use our privilege to support these women.
“Here’s to strong women. May we know them, may we be them, may we raise them.”
One of the hardest things about being an adult is trying to find a job. Actually, I’ve found lots of jobs, what’s hard is getting one. I graduated from university last year, worked a temp job until December and now here I am. I started volunteering at a couple of charity shops at the beginning of February so that I actually had some semblance of structure during the week. It helps me not to feel so useless, but a paying job would still be welcome. The whole job search is disheartening. Taking the time to write cover letters, fill out application forms, comb through and improve your CV again and again, and then not to hear anything back? Not even a thanks, but no thanks? That sucks.
I think one of the hardest things is going from education to nothing. At school and university, you have long holidays every summer where you can waste your days away if you want to, but you know that come September, there is a place waiting for you. Having no job means that the days stretch endlessly in front of me, with no comfort that it will come to an end once the semester starts again. Whilst you’re in education, you’re on a path and working towards an end goal, even if you don’t enjoy the journey. I didn’t particularly like school, but I loved uni. I loved all aspects of it, I loved the friends, the nights out, the nights in, the independence. I loved American Studies, my lecturers, my modules, even my dissertation. I loved all of it, but upon graduating I felt ready to leave. I felt ready to tackle the ultimate challenge: being a real adult. Student life was great, but I was looking forward to making my own way in the world (we can ignore how cheesy that sounds). And now, two months of unemployment in, I’m feeling – I don’t know. I want my life to start.