Online IQ tests are...wrong?

First point of order: happy new years, my dear readers! May this year be a year of dreams coming true!

Right, now I’ve got that out of the way, I can talk about something that I’ve come to realise. Now, I was talking in a forum earlier tonight, and the conversation got turned around to, somehow, not too sure how it happened because I’m that weird one who just sits there without saying anything, the ratio of IQ to introvert-ness. And I’m sure that’s not a word, but I didn’t know how else to phrase it, so that’s what I’m going with.

Now, as I said, I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention, but I noticed that someone said that those who are introverts are more likely to have a higher IQ. Why, I’m not sure; perhaps because they prefer to sit inside and study rather than party. Me, being the smartass that I am, said, “no, that’s wrong, I’m an introvert and I’m stupid.”

Well, that of course sparked questions such as, “who said that?” The answer to that was simple: my school. I was told, when I was a wee child (okay, not so wee, I was 15) that I was not smart and I would never be smart enough to go to University.

Have I lived most of my life by that statement? Yes. Is that the smart thing to do? No. Most definitely not. For one, what school tells it’s students something like that? Well, mine, apparently; I was also told I have no talent in Art but I was good for the class because I ‘liked’ it. And that my brother was ten times better than me.

I loved most of my teachers from school but right now I’m thinking that they’re probably half the reason for my self-hate I feel so often…

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. So we were talking about IQs and I got the brilliant idea to do an online IQ test.

I got 90.

I felt discouraged and immediately I thought, “yep, see, I’m an idiot,” without even considering the fact that 90 is average. And when I mentioned so to someone on the forum, they told me that internet tests weren’t all too reliable. I decided to test that. If I was to get two scores of the same number from two different tests, then clearly I was an idiot. If it was different, then clearly the tests were just a little messed up.

I took four tests. The results were:

Test one – 90

Test two – 127

Test three – 100

Test four 77

So…quite different across the board there, aren’t they? Of course, being me, my first thought was, “OMG the rest were wrong and I’m 70, I’m below average, I’m an idiot, ahh!”

But then the rational part of my brain started working once more. Maybe I was told by the school that I was not smart enough, but I did Uni for one semester and was told I was one of the smartest. I did an online course as well, and not only was I apparently the smartest there as well, but I finished it four months early.

So I got to thinking that maybe I wasn’t a complete write off after all (just as a FYI, that’s a thought I never would have considered, which means there’s progress in the self-hate! Yay!) I started to think about what I have done, that maybe would require at least an average IQ. I’ve done a diploma in Business, a certificate in IT, I’ve written several novels, I can draw (though, I’m still doubtful of my talent in the last two areas) so surely that must mean I’m not a dunce, right?

And then I remembered I once took a vocabulary test. Average score for a 20 year old was 2200, and I scored 3200. So clearly I’m above average there.

And yet…my IQ test scores weren’t overly high. Why could that be?

And this is what I really wanted to talk about. See, the thing is, it’s almost impossible to judge something like that. If someone took a test that was primarily maths, and they couldn’t understand math at all, they would get a low score, correct? Whereas if the test was more, say, English, they would get a higher score. So how can one judge, based on that?

Some might say that it would even it out by having an equal number of questions of both disciplines on the one test…but no, how does that work? There is still a possibility of getting at least half of them wrong which would impact your score.

The only sure-fire way, in my opinion, to measure IQ is by doing a test tailored exactly to your personality, strengths and weaknesses…but how would that work, exactly? The amount of variables are just too damn high to even consider making a test as complex as that.

Also, another thing that could impact your score is how long it takes. Many of these tests are timed, much to my displeasure. If you’re like me, you need to take a few minutes to really understand what the question says. If you don’t have that, you’re clearly not going to get to correct answer because you don’t even know what the question is! It’s okay to take a little time; some of the great minds sit and ponder the mysteries of the universe for years. Years. And there’s no doubt that they are smart, that they have high IQs.

Taking a while is okay. Doesn’t mean you’re not smart. Some tests, however, do think that, or they seem to. Why else would they make it timed? You should be allowed to have all the time in the world to think about things!

A few months ago I was telling my friend how I didn’t think I was smart at all, and she said something I will never forget: that there’s book smart and street smart, they’re not the same and what you might be good at, someone else could be terrible at. Now that, that’s so  true. For example, she’s a nurse. She can fix people medically. Can I do that? Well, I could try, but I’d probably kill you. On the other hand, I’ve done IT and can open and pull apart a computer. Can she do that? As far as I know, no, she can’t. So who is smarter? Me, or her?

The self-hating part of me says her, but the rational part (which I listen to more) says that neither is smarter than the other. We have different levels of smart. What I am good at, she isn’t. What she is, I’m not. I don’t think a single human being in the world is brilliant at everything, not even Sheldon Cooper. He can’t drive a car. But he’s still a genius, correct?

He is in his field. That’s the point I’m getting at here, people. You’re not going to be good at everything in life, but there’s always going to be something that you  can do and others cannot. Find that thing, and focus on it, and that’s where your talent lies. It doesn’t mean you’re stupid if you can’t do what someone else can do, it just means you can do something different.

So don’t listen to what some damn online test says. It means nothing. No, what it means is that there are some things we are strong at, and some things we aren’t, and that can impact our score. But that doesn’t mean we’re all idiots. It just means our strengths are different. Think about that, not whether or not your IQ is as high as Sheldon’s.

Being Grateful

I really should have written this days ago, but I didn't quite think of it then, so I'm writing it now. First point of order, though, is to say this: I hope everyone out there in the internet world had a brilliant Christmas!

Christmas is actually the theme of this post, but it could apply with any event all around the world: birthdays, Valentines Day, etc. See, my family, we're not the closest in the world, and we always knew what we were getting for Christmas. Which is why I never quite noticed what the rest of the world can be like. 

This started off for me when I was a child. I would go to school in the final few weeks before summer holidays (different time zone, people) and I would hear people talking about how they had no idea what they were getting for Christmas. Now me, I always knew exactly what I was getting for Christmas, because my brother and I always picked our presents out and were there when my mum but them on lay-by.

The concept of surprise did not happen in our house. Why, I'm not sure. Neither me or my brother like surprises. Things are so much better predictable and even now I hold myself to that concept. The unknown, such as the future, is something I cannot think about. 

But that's a whole other story, so I'm not going to talk about that anymore. Point is, my brother and I always knew what we were getting, which obviously meant there was no chance of disappointment.

Now, I didn't quite...realise what some people could be like until recently, and today, I've decided to say something. This morning I woke up and, like normal, I went onto 9gag on my Tablet in an attempt to keep my eyes open. Someone had posted a list of tweets that people had written talking about how disappointed and how much they hated their family...because of things such as "I got a Macbook Air instead of Pro, my stupid f*cking family" and "my iPhone is in the wrong colour, this is the worst Christmas ever."

I'm sorry...but WHAT?!

Okay. Maybe you didn't get exactly what you asked for. But you got something, and that is so much better than some people in the world. Not only that, you got something that cost your parents a hell of a lot of money. Macbooks, no matter what type, are not cheap. Why not just be happy with what you did get?

Now, before you say how I probably have no idea because I always knew exactly what I was going to get...I do know. The thing is, my parents have never had a great deal of money. And while I did know what I was going to be getting, I still had disappointments. Because I would go to school and hear about how people got the brand new gaming consoles and such, and what did I get? 

Well honestly, I don't remember what I'd get. I do remember the money limit, however - $60. None of my presents have ever exceeded that, while my friends got new laptops.

Its the same now. When I turned 21, I got $100. That was my present. That's it. I didn't even had a party. My then friend, on the other hand, he got $1000. Quite the difference there, do you not think? 

Could I be bitter? Could I hate my parents because they could never provide the sort of...fun that my friends parents could? Of course I could be bitter. But I'm not. Because I'm grateful.

I'm grateful that I got what I did. Things could be so much worse. My parents could have gotten me nothing. But they didn't. A gift is a gift. Whether it's the perfect type or model or object or whatever, it doesn't matter. It's something they have bought you, and no matter what, you should be grateful, because it really is the thought that counts.

I'm saying this because I think far too many people don't understand the concept. I mean, come on. If you wanted said object and didn't want any disappointments, then you buy it yourself. That is the only way you will guarantee that you will get exactly what you want. Expecting someone else to fulfill your expectations isn't right.

This Christmas, my parents gave me a watch, a wallet and earrings. The watch stopped working twenty minutes after I put it on. Could I be mad about that? Sure, but I'm not because it is still the thought that counts. They bought me something that they knew I would like and I did like it, and whether I can wear it now is irrelevant because its the thought that counts. I am grateful that they cared enough to buy anything at all. 

And I know this may be coming out a little harsher than what I perhaps intended but I feel it just has to be said. It is so unfair to say you hate your family because they didn't get you the right colour expensive phone because they didn't have to get you the expensive phone. And whether its the right colour or not, you should still be grateful for what you did receive. Children of poor parents on the street may have only received a new jacket or something. But they would be grateful because its something. 

It is something. And whether you like it or not, you should be grateful that someone cared enough to spend some of their money in an attempt to make you happy - never throw that back in someone's face. 

Just...be grateful.

Dangers of Dermatillomania

Dermatillomania – is it a real word, or something that I just made up?

It’s a real word…it’s a real condition. For those of you that haven’t ever heard of it before (and I’m guessing there are a few out there) it’s a condition where you obsessively compulsively pick at your skin. Don’t get me wrong. If you have a pimple and you squeeze it, you don’t have Dermatillomania.

However, you do have it if you do it obsessively, if you do it to the extent of it starting to physically affect your life. Some people use their fingernails, some bite, some use tweezers, some scissors…and often it’s done on otherwise healthy skin.

I have Dermatillomania.

It’s hard for me to admit that. I hide it a lot; I’m ashamed of what I’ve done to my body. Like many people with this, I have my target areas, and my main one is my shoulders and back. Now, I can never wear sleeveless t-shirts because of the extent of scarring. Right now, I have about 14 lots of picking that are all red and raised and sore. The scarring is far more extensive than that. It’s horribly noticeable.

Now I didn’t think it would ever really be much of a problem. Yeah, it affected my life to a severe extent – I have literally lost hours standing in front of the mirror picking at things. I’ve spent hours inspecting my skin and doing nothing but that. I’ve had to hurry to do assignments because I got too involved in picking.

But I didn’t think it would affect my health in any other way but causing a lot of scars. As it turned out, I was very wrong.

A few months ago, I got a pimple like thing on my leg. I pick at my upper legs a lot, and I have to admit, it made me very happy to find something that would let out some actual pus. So I squeezed it, of course, and it did what any pus filled thing would do. I didn’t think about it for a little while because I started to return to picking my shoulder.

And then one day I realised my leg hurt. I ignored it, thinking I had just knocked it against something. I didn’t think about it. I told myself it was nothing.

And then it turned from being sore to feeling like something had stabbed my leg. It hurt when I sat down, it hurt when I walked, and it hurt no matter what I did. So, feeling a little worried, I rolled the leg of my jean up – it was the middle of the day, on a Saturday – and found myself looking at a massive, bright red…thing.

It emitted heat. Anyone will tell you that it’s a bad sign when something starts to hurt like hell, is the size of a fifty cent coin in diameter, is bright red and emits heat. So I called the hospital – it was a Saturday and my doctor wasn’t open – and they put me through to a medical service that would answer my questions. After describing my symptoms, they told me to go to the emergency clinic. That would set me back $80 dollars, but it was either that or wait for several hours at the hospital. So I went to the clinic.

Long story short, I got an infection called Cellulitis.

I didn’t think of anything to ask the guy when I went there, but a few days later I found myself with many unanswered questions. I didn’t know who to talk to, so I decided to email a doctor that I knew…sort of. I followed his blog and asked medical advice before, anyway. This blog, by the way, is Doc Bastard – if you haven’t ever read him, GO AND READ RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE IS AWESOME. Click here if you haven’t. Seriously. It was the only thing that got me through the rough times.

Anyway, I asked the questions I should have asked when I went to the clinic: why did I get this huge red thing growing off my leg? How in the world can I prevent it? Also, what would have happened if I left it? How serious can these things be? And the thing I was most worried about…could my obsessive skin picking be the cause?

Now, Cellulitis is a bacterial infection. It’s treated with antibiotics, which is what I had, or it would have to get drained. Luckily I didn’t let it get that bad, but it could have spread if I had left it. The Dermatillomania was most likely the cause. So it got me thinking, and I asked what else it could cause.

The answer was skin infections…and necrotising fasciitis, which is a truly horrible disease, a flesh eating bacteria. If you don’t know what it is, click here, but be warned – the pictures are not pretty so don’t look at it if you’re squeamish! There’s also a risk of septicaemia.

So I was wrong. Dermatillomania could cause so much worse than what I thought. What happens – and Doc Bastard confirmed this for me – is that you touch something dirty, bacteria gets under your fingernails, you wash your hands but it doesn't truly go unless you scrape them clean with some sterile instrument...and then while squeezing and picking the life out of your shoulder so it’s all bumpy and red and sore, the bacteria gets into the open wounds...

I then asked how bad it could have gotten if I ignored it. Doc Bastard said there is no real way to tell. And to be honest, I don’t think I ever want to know how bad it could get.

So I decided to write this blog. Because, honestly, getting some infection that could be so very easily be prevented is not enjoyable at all. I didn’t know it could cause such serious effects and I think everyone needs to be aware of what can happen. Infections don’t just come from being dirty, they can come from picking your pimples and whatever else a little too much.

There’s another reason I’m writing this, though. As of now, for the next month, I’m not going to pick AT ALL. I’m going to do whatever I can to prevent myself from doing it. What’ll I’ll be doing is keep a diary of each day, and maybe even a video blog, to document the time. I know it doesn’t sound like much or very interesting for some people, but I want people to know that it’s possible to stop it, and I want to be successful in stopping it also. The more people that know, the less likely I’ll slip up.

It’ll be fun…or rather, interesting…but I’ll be successful. And I’ll post here this time next month telling you about how I was successful at stopping it. Maybe you won’t be interested in it, but maybe, just maybe, it’ll help others with this condition to stop putting their lives at risk.

Labels

We come across labels just about every day in our life, right? I mean, if you went and opened your fridge right now, you'd find yourself looking at a load of labels on a range of different things. I mean, without them, you wouldn't know if you were eating a tin of salmon or a tin of cat food. And they look the same, too, so you really would be in deep trouble without them.

But I feel like that in today's world, we place labels on things that are totally unnecessary. Here's a few examples of an unnecessary label: emo, hipster, jock, goth, nerd, geek.

We like what we like, and we wear what we want to wear. Why do we put a labels on things like that? Why don't people just let others be, why not let people just wear what they want to wear without shoving a shiny little sticker on them saying what they are?

Its something I don't really understand - especially not when things like clothes and fashion styles - but it's something I've become very passionate about. Not because of the fashion, though, there's something else that we're all too willing to label.

Ourselves.

Now when I say that, I don't mean our names, or our professions, or anything along those lines. But I've come to find that, in our world, we're either one thing or another. For example, we're either male or female. We're either gay, straight or bisexual. 

And that is what this post is about, so if you're homophobic , stop reading now. Close this window and pretend that I haven't said anything. If you're not...continue reading to what I have to say.

Now, I'm a female. But the thing is, by societies standards, I'm not. I wear baggy men's jeans because I love the way they look. I wear mostly men's t-shirts and shirts because they have proper sleeves and they don't have unnecessary prints, puffs, buttons or glitter. I wear sports shoes because that's what my feet require. I also have short hair, wear no makeup whatsoever and don't wear fancy jewellery. 

On top of that, I love sport, hate the colour pink, love crime shows, hate chick flicks and love action.

I've been this way all my life. And do you know what else I've been? An outcast. I got people teasing me at school because of the way I dressed and the way I acted. When I was in my final school year, a rumour went around school that I was lesbian and got up to nasty stuff. Which wasn't true but it hurt. I'd get people asking me every day if I was a boy or a girl. I'd also get people asking me if I wanted to become a boy.

They also asked if I was anorexic and made fun of my small and skinny stature. Kids are mean.

Now, several years on, I was faced with a dilemma. It all started a few months ago when my older brother came over with a buzz cut. I wanted one so much. But I'm a girl. Girls don't get haircuts like that. For the next several weeks I had many panic attacks and went into a depressive spin because I was faced with the question I never, ever wanted to ask myself: what am I?

See, I had a similar dilemma earlier this year, when I realised I didn't look at men like the way a normal female would, and instead looked at women. Well, one in particular. And in the end I decided I was gay and that was it.

But am I gay, and am I transgender? That's what I wanted to know, and that's what I couldn't answer. Because of that, I went into such a depressive spin. Fear of not being accepted made it much worse.

And then I talked to my friend, who made me realise several things. Mainly, does what I like make me something? Maybe I just like the look and that hairstyle because I'm a no fuss type of person. It was something to think about.

A few months later and I've come to the following conclusion: it doesn't matter. 

It doesn't matter what I like, or if I'm more male or more female. I'm me, that's the main thing. I'm a unique person. Personalities and love is fluid, it changes and molds you depending on the circumstances. Yes, I found myself looking at a woman but whose to say I won't look at some man, ten years down the track, in the same way? Yes, I love men's clothes but does that make me a man? Does having a lady bits make me a woman? 

By societies standards, yes, it does. By mine, no, it doesn't. Why must be call ourselves one or another? Why can't we be in between of the two? Why can't we just be who we are, without putting a label, or a definition to it?

I am me, and you, reader, are you. Don't let society, or your family, or your friends, put a label on you and expect you to conform with that label because life doesn't work that way.

Just be yourself, and don't question it. Don't label it. You are you. 

Art and Society - Part Two

Greetings to all those who are reading this blog! Guess what? Here is another post about art, one of my favourite topics. If you haven't read my first art post, you can so here.

I had quite the adventure today. I walked downtown because I was supposed to go for an appointment at the employment agency. However, when I go there, they told me it had been rescheduled – and of course no one decided to inform me of that fact. I’ll admit, I was, I am, a little miffed about that.

But then I had a slight brainwave, to at least say I did something today other than walk to a place that I wasn’t supposed to be in anyway.

On Saturday I went to a shop that sells prints and artwork and had a conversation with the man in there. We were saying about how there isn’t many photos or drawings of my town. So I asked him if I did any, would he sell them. To my surprise he said he might. So since then I’ve been working on a set to do with my town.

I had my sketch book in my bag. I always take it with me when I’m at the employment agency because they often seem to run behind time, leaving me wait for – at one stage – up to an hour. So I went back to this shop and, thankfully, saw the same guy. I walked in there and, to my surprise, he remembered me.

That is actually quite the surprise, because…people don’t generally remember me. Or even talk to me. At least not strangers, anyway. But this dude, he was nice. We got to talking once again and before I knew it, we were on the topic of what we discussed on Saturday.

He remembered the conversation, and I asked him if he was serious, or if he was just kidding around. I can never be certain of stuff like that. And he told me he really was serious, he would if it was good, but I’d need to wait at least until after December because the store he was managing was only their clearance store and they would relocate in the new-year. That didn’t really bother me much, but I did want his opinion on my art. 

So I asked if he wanted to see it.

Before my brain had a chance to get all weird and anxious on me, he said he did, so I pulled the sketch book out and showed him the drawings I specifically did about this town I live in. My drawings are ink, it’s the way I like them and it’s the way I feel comfortable with doing.

And he liked them. They were local, interesting, well done and he would sell them if he could. In fact, he even told me to see if I could put them in an art gallery a town over because they like local stuff.

I walked out of there pretty damn happy.

I was almost going to go home…but then I got this idea. And I went to this gallery run by an artist. He sells his own work, and some others. And I got to talking to this guy and showed him the same drawings that the other guy liked.

And he disliked them, because they weren’t “special” enough. That they would never sell as they’re not pleasing to the eye, they were lesser than some, and these were his words, “mass produced crap from China.” And he said they would never make any money because of these things.

Did it hurt to hear him say that? I won’t like, it stung a little. But then I got to thinking as I started to walk home. There’s a flaw in his reasoning.

It’s true, what he says, there is competition out there. But I went in there asking if they were any good, not asking if I could sell them. What he told me basically boils down to one thing: money. All he wanted was to make a bit of money. That was it. Everything he said boiled down to that one word.

But here’s the thing: I don’t care about money! And I don’t think any artist worth his salt should. I don’t draw because I want to become famous, I don’t draw to become rich. I draw to relieve stress, to feel better, to relax. Maybe he doesn’t, maybe all he wanted to do was get rich.

Another thing he told me was that you need to go with what was popular. Once again, there is a flaw with his reasoning. According to him I should abandon my beliefs and what I enjoy to become an artist in the “popular” way.

But art is about impression, your impression. Okay, maybe there are certain things that are more popular than others. But that doesn’t mean you should jump on the bandwagon! They say, as a writer, you should do what you want to see, not what is in the stores at this particular time. Why is the same not true for art? Why is it when I bring in something that I liked, that means something to me, why is it that I’m the one in the wrong?

Writing and drawing, it’s pretty much the same thing, both disciplines of art. Besides, it’s my opinion that the popular stuff makes no sense! I was looking at what he sells, and honestly, I didn’t understand hardly any of it. Is that what people want? Something they can’t understand properly? It’s not what I want and I’m sure some others out there like the “boring bush scene with no significance” just as much as I do.

And besides, his business isn’t doing all too well; he doesn’t sell much – what does that tell you?

Art is about what you want to do. And do not let anyone tell you otherwise, not your art teacher, not your parents, not some dude who runs a shop and not even yourself.

There’s what I learned today. Not bad, considering it didn’t turn out the way I thought in the first place.

Does Time Matter: add-on

So I realised last night as I was trying to go to sleep that I never actually included why I'd been silent for a while. My artists brain is somewhat unreliable and once it gets going on one thing, it just...takes over and whatever I planned goes out the window. I was tempted to forgo sleep and do this then, but sleep is rather important and I couldn't bring myself to get up, turn the light on, get my laptop...seemed like too much energy to me. 

So I'm typing this now while wondering if it's going to storm. Oh the things I do...

Anyway, the reason I was silent - I made the decision to sit my exams for study and for the first few days I was in a total panic over what I had to get done. Bad habits are hard to brake and mine certainly was, because I was going down that road all over again.

So I pulled back. Sometimes when you've got a million things you want to do, and wish you can do (like, I don't know, posting on a blog I'm rather proud of, I must admit) the only thing to do is just pull back. 

I love doing this blog. But the thing is, it requires just as many brain cells as it does to study and memorise topics for an exam. I don't just sit on my bed and think, "oh, I may do this today." I put thought into what I type and sometimes it can take a while because I want people to enjoy what they're reading. And I want it to make sense and I have to admit, I am a perfectionist. To the point of when I was studying I got beat myself up over getting 91/100 because I should have gotten higher. 

So it takes a lot, in my mind, to keep this going. And when I was already stressing about getting one thing done on time...I decided the best idea would be to pull back. I'm not saying I focused on study and nothing more, because I didn't; I learned my lesson to never do that again. But I didn't use my brain any more than I had to, because I didn't want to become overwhelmed and obsessed with getting one thing done. This ties into the time because the same thing would have happened when I was studying last time, like bad sleeping habits.

So I just pulled back. For downtime I watched television shows (Family Guy was brilliant for a laugh) or, my latest obsession, I played old Game Boy Advanced roms using an emulator I downloaded. When I needed a break I trained my Pokemon. This doesn't require nearly as many brain cells as typing this right now does. Because I'm conscious, hyper aware, of the words I'm putting down. To the point of seeing them in my mind before I type, to the point of me getting all annoyed because of the difference between the American and English spelling of words like "realise" and "colour" because I hate seeing those little red error lines.

So that's why I've been silent. Because I had to pull back before getting all bent out of shape about the time, or lack thereof, there was to do everything I wanted to do in a day. Sometimes it's just easier to make the sacrifice than it is to do multiple things. 

Does time really matter?

Hey all!

I haven’t posted anything on this blog in a little while. And there is a reason for that; I haven’t forgotten about you all. And my brain still has been ticking away here trying to come up with ideas about things to talk about. And I do have several but I’m doing this first, mostly because it helps explain my absence.

For most of my life, I’ve lived by one thought: that the time does not matter. Oh don’t get me wrong, if I had an appointment, I would be there on time. In fact, I’m actually that weird person who arrives half an hour early. Even at the doctor, when I know I’m going to be waiting far longer than the specified time anyway. But I always said that the time, the clock, the watch, the time on my mobile phone and laptop, it didn’t matter.

Now this is how it would work:

Mum: What time did you go to bed last night?

Me: late

Mum: What time did you bring the washing in?

Me: After I watched Ellen (midday)

Mum: When did you go up to the shops?

Me: After lunch

Mum: What time did Dad go to work?

Me: Normal time.

Mum: What time did Grandma ring?

Me: Not long before you get home

Mum: Don’t you ever check the time?!

Me: No.

So that’s what life would be like. I ate when I was hungry (clearly, I’m talking about AFTER I left school) and I did what I wanted, like walking up to the shops about twenty minutes away, without giving much thought to the fact it was indeed midday and the sun would be hottest. Because I thought the time did not matter. Because I thought if you start to put a timeframe on everything, things would be…boring, dull and predicable. So I never, ever, looked at the clocks or watches unless I had an appointment.

I used to think it didn’t matter what I was doing, or what time I was doing it, so long as it got done. So that would of course create some…unhealthy habits. 

Because I thought it didn’t matter what time I went to bed or woke up, so long as I got a decent amount of sleep. I thought it did not matter what time I started studying, or stopped studying, or how long I spent studying, so long as I got it done.

My friends, I was so very, very wrong about my views on that little device we call a clock.

Earlier this year, I was enrolled at university. It’s said you’re supposed to do ten hours of study a week per subject. I did four subjects; therefore I had to do forty hours of study. It was external so I could make my own hours and brilliant me, I decided it would be a brilliant idea if I did ten hours per day for four days, and then used the other days for assignments.

Do you see the problem? No? Keep reading, then, because it’ll come up very soon.

Along with ten hours of study a day for four days straight, I also decided it would be a brilliant idea to not take any breaks…even for lunch. I ate lunch at my desk while reading. I got snacks to eat at my desk while writing. I sat in my computer chair from nine in the morning to about eleven at night. I rarely watched television, I hardly read, I didn’t write and I didn’t draw.

I thought I could keep it contained to those four days, and a little bit of assignments on the end…I was so very wrong. Four days ended up being seven. And I spent ten hours a day being a complete perfectionist with my work seven days a week. I did not go out. I did not interact. I did not eat properly, I ate things I could have quickly like noodles and rice cakes.

And that is really not healthy. In fact…it’s horridly unhealthy. You see, us humans, we need to interact around other people. And more than that, we need to take a break. I thought the time didn’t matter, or how long it took didn’t matter, so long as it was done. As long as it was perfect. But it does matter, just as getting a proper amount of sleep, preferably BEFORE midnight (something I struggle with) matters. I still don’t care exactly when I eat lunch, nor do I pay attention to exactly when my father leaves for work.

But I will never, ever study like that again. Because of that, I ended up sick. I lost weight. My mind went to a very bad place and it’s taken me most of this year to recover. So if you’re like me and have some…unhealthy ways of studying, then I’ve got a few tips for you.

1. Create a timetable. A workable timetable, not like the crazy thing that I did
2. Allow time to be social. This is very important. Humans need to be social, even if you don’t think it’s entirely necessary. Seriously, get out and have fun
3. Plan for the unexpected. Once again, this is very important, because if something happens…well it can ruin your whole study plan for ages. I ended up in hospital while I was studying and I was doing makeup work for two, three weeks. It wasn’t healthy at all, especially since I also had a major essay I needed to start. Stress galore!
4. Take breaks often, even if it’s just for five minutes jumping up and down
5. Keep fit and healthy. Eating bad food can mess with your concentration and can also make you feel gross and lethargic.
6. If you’re struggling, REACH OUT! I know some people think this is obvious but if you’re anything like me you think you can just ‘deal with it’ on your own. I thought I could and I was wrong. Don’t let it get bad. If you don’t understand, then ask. If you’re feeling stressed or sick, go to your doctor ASAP!
7. Failing does not mean that you are a failure. It’s an even in your life, not your life’s destiny. I credit this one to my good friend.
8. Trying your best is all anyone expects. Not perfect scores.

Stay safe everyone, and catch you at my next post! AND PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT TIME IT IS BECAUSE YES IT DOES MATTER!

Wall of Brick

For the first time since I started this blog, I'm unsure of how to start. Not because this topic is a hard one for me, or because it's triggering or anything like that, but because of what it means. I don't know if writing this is even a really good idea, I may not get the reaction I would like, but I'm doing it anyway because at this point...there's not much more I can do.

Beware - this may get...emotional. Read on at your own risk.

This story starts about early October last year. At the time I felt so alone, I had a...a friend, if you could call this person that, but said friend didn't care much about what I was going through and I felt so alone. Purely by chance I mentioned it to someone I'd known for a long while but wasn't overly close with. Normally reactions of when saying you're lonely are "meet more people!" But not this person. No, this person...she offered to hang out one day. 

It sounds like nothing but to me, it was like...it was the very best thing anyone could have ever said. See, this woman, she's older than me and I actually knew her when I was a kid - when she was a young adult. And I used to look up to her and wish I could know her, wish I could be more like her. Never did I think she would want to talk to me but for some reason she offered. And a few months later - that's how long it took me to get up the courage - I took it.

I won't go into a great deal of detail here - because if I did then would end up being well over 10,000 words - but we did end up catching up one day. I was so nervous I thought I'd throw up; it had been ages since I'd been social and I was starting to get the symptoms of Anxiety and Depression quite bad. But I got through it. And I had fun, and she seemed to like me, which is more than I never thought would happen. No, meeting up again was more than I would ever think would happen, but that did too. 

I was going through a really bad time by this stage of the year. I was getting so anxious I couldn't eat and while I liked this person so much...my defective, non trusting brain wouldn't allow me to believe she actually did like me. I tried to keep that in as much as possible though, tried to pretend I was normal but...I didn't want to pretend around her. I was sick of lying, of not being myself. So I started to share my problems, thinking she would run away.

She didn't.

Oh man, this is getting harder and harder write. And to see. I can get somewhat emotional sometimes.

Right, so, instead of running away, she stuck around. And from then on I started to message her if something was wrong, if I was having panic attacks, if...if anything. And now I feel so guilty for doing all that because it just doesn't seem fair to her, even though she's said before that she's just glad she can help. But I still feel guilty because it's something I can't really repay.

I also feel guilty because, in the past, I've had quite...bad friendships. I'm used to being put down, being treated like I don't matter. I'm that person people brush aside to talk to the more "important" people, I'm the one no one cares about, the one people just tolerate. she didn't treat me that way, though, and I'll admit, it scared me - did it just mean she was keeping it all inside? Was she really just stringing me along? Those were the sorts of things that would go on in my head on a daily basis.

And right now I'm glad I can touch type because my eyesight is getting blurry.

So I've been burned before...and that makes me distrustful. Very, very, very distrustful. It got bad, too - after we hung out the first time her computer went on the fritz and she didn't message me back for about three weeks. Well I didn't know that but I thought I'd blown a chance at the friendship. And I spent days in panic attack mode. 

I'm ashamed to admit it's happened way more times. I have a handle on it now...most of the time...so it's not so bad any more. But there's still an underlying thought of, "what if she gets sick of me?" Because everyone in the past has gotten sick of me. I have never had a friendship last any longer than six months. So for the last year I've been waiting for it to happen but it never has.

No one has stuck with me like this woman. No friend has ever cared about me like this woman. She was there for me during everything and I can never, ever, EVER, thank her enough or repay her. 

So, my friend who is out there...I'm so, so, so sorry for my insecurities. It doesn't mean you've done something wrong, it's all on me. It's all on my defective brain. You mean so much to me and I hope you know that. I hope you never forget that. I know I have so many issues but you've done more for me in one year that my so called friend from school ever did in 14 years. You get me when no one else does. And I know I'm hard work and you need breaks and stuff and I'm sorry I don't really make that easy for you, and I know you get annoyed when I keep asking if we really are friends and if you really do care but its because I'm used to people no caring all too much. 

I know you don't like it when I'm down on myself but being positive and hopeful is something I'm not used to and it takes a hell of a lot of work. I know you hate me apologising but I'm used to grudges and fights and all that and our friendship has just been so different to what I'm used to. I know you really don't like it when I say I'm not important but all my life I've been treated like I wasn't important, even by my own brother, my grandparents. It's hard to forget.

And one again, I know you don't like the way I ask if we are friends  and them amount I message you but its just because I'm just so damn terrified of losing the only good thing I've had in my life this year. I don't want to be forgotten. And I know that makes me selfish but...please...don't leave me. 

I wrote this poem earlier today for you. I hope you like it. It's called Wall of Brick, and it's basically about everything you've done for me. I can never repay you. I can never say thank you enough, or never apologise enough for the amount of crap I've put you through this year. But I hope this at least...starts to pay off the mammoth debt I owe you.

I had walls up as far as they would go
No one could penetrate them, no 
Hiding behind a substance so thick
These walls, they were made of brick

And then someone came along 
Into my life like some sort of song
You soon found the way I tick
And out fell the first brick

I was afraid you would run
No one really knew me, none 
But by some miracle you stuck around
And it all came tumbling down

Inside I was so raw
From hiding for so long
You helped me up off the floor
And stayed as I clawed my way to the door

I was scared for so long
But now I'm outside fighting 
Thanks to you, who kept me ticking
You, who helped me start kicking
Down that wall, made of brick
-Scoop, 30/10/2013

PS - this doesn't even cover HALF of what I wish I could say but I'm not going to post any more. Just...you saved me. And I love you like a sister...if I had a sister. And I hope that doesn't scare you away.
PPS - And I And now my face is itchy with dried tears. Oh, no, they're still rolling down. This is why I don't talk like this in person, you really would run away!

Mistakes of the Mind

We've all heard the saying "boys will be boys," haven't we? Yeah? Well, I've got a new saying to add to that - humans will be humans.

Now if you're a person that frequently looks at my blog (now that, people, is HOPE) you'll know that I recently posted about mistakes. If you haven't seen that post and you want to see that post, you can check it out by clicking this link right now. Do it - I dare you! 

So, we're all human beings, right? Which means we have on thing in common, no matter what gender you are, what age or where you live. And that thing is that we all do make mistakes. If anyone has ever said to you that they have never made any mistakes then they're probably the worst of them all because WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES IN LIFE. No matter what, we all make mistakes.

As I said in the other post, some are big and some aren't. Some are due to sheer stupidity and some are simply because you made the wrong decision. And that's okay. It's how we learn. Where I am right now, there's a thing on the wall that says, "Don't judge your ability by your first attempt. Judge it by wither you keep trying and keep learning. And don't let anyone else judge it."

Keep learning.

That, my friends, is what happens when you make mistakes. You learn. If you're at school and you're working on an assignment and you get something wrong - you've made a mistake but because of it, but you'll also find out where you went wrong and what you should to change it...and that is how you learn.

Some mistakes, though, just shouldn't be repeated. Such as the example I used in the other post with the skateboard, which is the example of a stupid mistake. It was someone's conscious decision to not wear protective gear and go skateboarding and it was because of their decision, their mistake, that they got messed up and ended up in the Emergency Department.

But one thing I've found in life that there are some mistakes that we can't help but make, over and over. I'm certainly guilty of that. The other day I hit something with my rather messed up hand...again. It's a mistake I've made way too many times but in my mind it is still a mistake. It's not something I've been doing for attention. It's not really even something I've been aware of, I was just in a really bad mood and I was in what I call a "panic state" and it just...happened. I lost control of my mind and my body and that was my mistake.

So what happens in that situation? In my opinion if the same mistake is made often enough, one of two things will happen. One, you'll realise it is indeed a mistake and work to get off that path and get on the correct one or two, you'll get so used to it that it'll just...happen. I'd say it happens because of neural pathways in your brain and all that which is just something that I'll never be able to understand myself.

And that's what happened to me. I know it's a bad decision but half the time I don't even know what the heck I'm doing; it's an automatic response to a bad situation. And in that case it's hard to control.

But control is possible. Anyone who says it's not is lying and is a very, very stupid person that you should never listen to. I've had it all, anger issues, anxiety issues. And I know that if you work hard you can control those urges. The trick is to be on the ball.

I'm pretty sure most of you have at least played a game before, so I'm going to use a reference to that to explain what I want to say. So, say you're playing a game and you know that something is going to happen but you don't know when - what do you do? Do you sit back and wait for it? Or do you proceed with caution and when it does happen you take charge and minimise the impact?

I'm willing to bet most of you are going with the second one.

And that's what you need to learn to do with your mind. First you've got to figure out what's going to set you off to make the mistakes. There's always a trigger. Whether it's in an exam or if it's in the case of me and hitting things in emotional distress. There's always a trigger that can cause these repetitive mistakes. Maybe you're making them because you're doing things too fast.

So once you identify your triggers you can control them better. You can start to get a feel of what is going to happen, and with that, you can prevent what is going to happen. It's not a perfect process - which you probably have realised because I'm guilty of doing the same things over and over - and it does take hard work but I believe it can happen. There are two things that I think you need to do.

The first is working on the physical side of things; reflexes and such. I think this primes your mind for mental reflexes. And the second is relaxation. YOU NEED TO HAVE DOWNTIME. This is an absolute need. Whether its by meditating, reading or watching television, you need it.

Mistakes of the mind do happen and they can be hard to control. But you can do it. If you're struggling you can get help from people; one of my friends has been my biggest support. But it's really down to you to be conscious of the choices you make, keeping in mind of what's going to happen and preventing the impact of when it does happen.

You can do it - I have faith in you!

Dreams, Jobs, Careers...Life

Lately there's been something weighing on my mind.

Most of my life I've had no idea whatsoever what I wanted to do in terms of jobs. Oh, I had dreams, like most people do – I wanted to be a photographer. I wanted to be a novelist. I wanted to be an Interior Designer. I wanted to be an artist.

But none of them screamed “practical” to my parents, and it didn't to me, either. I knew the chances of doing any above would not be overly high so I started to think about what else I may be able to do in life.

And I came up with nothing.

So by the time I left school, I had nothing to do. I wasn't smart enough for university so that pathway was out. And seeing as I didn't have the slightest clue of what I could do that was practical, I thought it would be rather useless to go to a technical institute. Knowing I had to do something, I asked my dad to get me a job at the supermarket he worked at, doing nightfill.

I found I liked the job. But it didn't last, much to my dismay. I've been out of work for over a year and half now and it hit me a few days ago that I had finally start looking again. I was tossing up whether I should do more study but...there's only so much a course will get you. My jobs section in my resume is extremely flat and at my age I need to start thinking about the future – I would like to move out of home one day, after all.

So that started off a whole new lot of thinking. What job could I do? What job was I qualified to do? What did I really want to do?

I once again started to think of the creative sort of things. But if I want to make it in life to do any of that, I'd need some sort of course, a qualification. So I started to look into courses, thinking I could do one with the thought of gaining employment in mind.

But the problem with that is that these courses, they cost money. And that's something I don't really have. So I really started to freak out because if I'm being honest, the thought of working, and finding my place in life is absolutely terrifying to me.

I spent days agonizing over this. And then someone put in into perspective for me. In fact, she put a lot of things into perspective for me and I want to share that with you all because I know I'm not the only one out there that's had these thoughts. So here's a few points I want you all to remember:

• You don't have to know what you want right away. There are a lot of people that go through life having no clue what they want to do, and that's okay.
• If you're worried you won't fit in, don't – its unfortunate but sometimes we will fit in with some but we won't fit in with others. Chances are you'll get a few people in a job that you'll get on great with a few people you won't. Its natural.
• A job does not define you.
• People do not define you. They influence you, yeah, but they don't define you. Only you define who you are.
• Working out who you are...its a process, because certain things in life will happen which will change your perspective. So if you don't know for sure, don't stress. Its natural.
• You won't always get your perfect job right off the bat. You need to start out first and go from there; your first job generally won't be your job for life.
• If you want to do something creative in life, just work on getting the – a – job first. If its not in that field, then you can do your creative work in your spare time. Remember that you need to have money to live first and build from there.

This next bit is a direct quote from my friend. I hope she doesn't mind me using her words (if she even knows about this, I have no idea) exactly but I really don't think I could put it any other way. So, my friend, I'm using your words because you're too smart for me to compete with.

“I think work is a good idea. I think it's good for a person's self esteem, it's a good ethic, it's another way to contribute to society, and gives your mind something to focus on.”

Remember these things, people. I don't think there's anything more I can say on this subject. Only that working, living, accomplishing our dreams...it's a process, one we need to work at. And they don't come easy.

But they wouldn't be worth it if they did.

Mistakes

As is human nature, we will sometimes do things that are...well, stupid. We will sometimes make mistakes. Some small, some not so small. Its just one of those things that we go through in life - to learn you've got to do some stupid things. Otherwise how will we know that we have use something like a tea towel to get something out of the oven?

Sometimes, however, we do really stupid things. I have a friend who is a nurse and some of the patients she gets in sometimes amaze me. Some people do things, seemingly not caring about their safety or health. And for the longest time I thought how insane and stupid they were to do such things.

But then I realised. I was one of those stupid people.

Last year, something happened I got extremely angry with myself. So, in my anger, I decided the best way to release it was to punch the wall. Three times. The wall, it was fine. Nothing happened to the wall. My hand, though...my third Metacarpophalangeal joint (otherwise known as my 3rd knuckle) got damaged. It was swollen, bruised and the skin had scraped off which, according to the internet, means it was likely fractured.

I didn't go to the hospital to treat it, despite the fact I was in so much pain I couldn't move my hand. Bad move. I've hit various things (for example, my old chair with a wooden backing) and each time I did that the same thing happened: it got swollen and bruised.

Yesterday I knocked it on my door by accident. And the results were instantaneous  It got swollen and sore. It was only a slight knock. That made me, the idiot, angry with myself of how much I'd damaged my hand over the last year that I hit it again.

I have issues with anger, and also with hitting thing. I've been working on it, and yesterday was the first time I did something like that in almost five months - quite a feat for me.

The point is, sometimes we do very stupid things in life. Some is riding a skateboard with no protection. Others is getting angry and punching the wall several times which has most likely caused irreversible damage to my hand. But its okay. We all make mistakes in life. None of us really know how we're supposed to be living, it's all done through trial and error. And it that's how we learn.

I, for one, have realised that my hand is very much messed up now. And I hope you have all learned in this post that if you want to punch something, punch your bed. Even my doctor told me we all need a release...but just do it on a soft surface (which I will also try to do).

Art and Society - Part 1

“Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up”

~Pablo Picasso

As you may have realised from the title, this post is dedicated to creativity and art. It's the first one of this topic I have planned (hence the part 1.) I have a bit of a bone to pick with society: what constitutes as ‘art’?

The definition of Art, taken from Dictionary.com, is the quality, production, expression or realm, according to aesthetic principles of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance. And that sounds like a pretty good description, doesn’t it? But the problem is...what defines something as beautiful or aesthetically pleasing?

The problem I find in art is that it’s all up to your own perception. You may think something is beautiful and an amazing piece of artwork while someone else may think it’s ugly and useless. And it can go the opposite way. There are some paintings that I’ve seen that I’ve thought are gross, weird and just plain ugly but they may be some of the most famous paintings in the world. For example, I’m no fan of Salvador Dali. However, he’s well-known and well-liked, so my opinion, it doesn’t really mean much, does it?

So, that’s the problem that I find with art. I may hate it. But another person may love it. So how can society really determine what is a piece of artwork or not?

I started thinking this belief when I was at school. I loved art. It was my favourite subject. I’d go into that classroom every day and be happy...until the parent/teacher interviews. My mother and I were both told by my art teacher...that I had no talent at all. None. My brother, though, apparently did.

Her words crushed me and I stopped doing art. Ended up leaving her class because why should I waste my time there if the teacher thought I was no good? But even after I gave up, and believed her words, I had the one thought in my mind: how can she say I’m not good when her definition of ‘good’ may be different to someone else’s definition?

She can’t, really. I may not have been the best art student at school, but that was when you had to create your work to be complaint with a list they give you. Just because she may have hated what I did didn’t mean everyone else would. In fact, when I went into the other art class (there were two levels, I switched into the simple one) I had one of my artworks, a dream catcher I created, selected and shown at the Regional Art Gallery. So that means I’m good, right?

Well, I was good enough for their panel. I still didn’t get a good mark on it.

Years on, I started to get into art more and more. I started off with drawings of celebrities, such as Jared 

Leto. I used just shades of grey pencil for it, and I thought there were...somewhat decent. And then someone suggested I do a drawing of a building. Now, those can be annoyingly complicated so I had the sudden idea of using just a black pen against a white page, doing the outline and various types of detail marks. I discovered after I did it...that I loved drawing like that.

That was actually only a few months ago. And I realised that not doing art because something a woman once said to me was stupid. I’ve been enjoying what I’ve been doing and I’ve actually had some really positive feedback, even on the pieces I thought would fail and look terrible.

So if you’re out there right now and you want to draw, sculpt, or whatever else...forget about being perfect. Forget about what other people have said to you in the past and toss away the thoughts of how you won’t ever be as good as Picasso. Just...start drawing. Start doing whatever. Ignore the world and just make art.

“If you hear a voice within you say, ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced”

~Vincent Van Gogh

The above is my own drawing. If you wish to check out my other stuff, along with photography and just general stuff from my life, check out my Tumblr - http://scoops-stuff.tumblr.com/

The Thorn Method

She slowly walked up the front path of her prey’s house, unsuspecting to him. While she was a big girl, she’d discovered the art of moving slowly, using the night as a cover. She had become a pro at stalking; it was, after all, her third time doing it.

She moved to the window and crouched below it. She could just see him inside, watching some show on television; it sounded like boxing or something like that. Trust him to be into violence, she thought.

A momentary panic washed over her – what if he knew how to box? That would make her job so much harder, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she’d be able to take him. Then she shook her head. She was bigger than him, and probably stronger, too. She’d trained a lot for what she had to do, and getting worried or nervous wouldn’t help.

 I can take him down, she thought confidently. I have to take him down.

He was completely unaware of the fact someone was outside his window, watching him, but that really didn’t surprise her – after all, he’d been oblivious all those years ago about the fact that his actions would one day come back to haunt him.

And they would haunt him, in a very big way. That’s why she was there.

She looked down. In her hand was a long object that ended in a point. It was the instrument that she intended to use on him. She gently slipped it into her pocket, making sure not to scratch herself with the tip, because it was poison.

She crawled out from underneath the window and went back to the front door. She knocked on it once, and then waited for him to answer it. She almost smiled in anticipation of what she had to do.

It was time for him to pay...

 *

Oh hello, what was that above? Was it...was it the start of a story? Yes. Yes, it was. But what could it possibly be part of? Well, ladies and gentlemen and anything in between, I’m pleased to announce that I, Scoop (Or S. Cooper, however you want to see me) has published a book!

I did it through CreateSpace and Kindle. If anyone out there wants to self publish, go through them. CreateSpace made the process easy and it was actually really rather fun to do. Now you don’t have to check my book out. You don’t have to read it, you don’t have to buy it.

But if you want to support this poor (I am unemployed, after all) self-published author, check it out. If you liked what is above in italics, click the link below. I dare you.

 *

No blood. No fingerprints. No murder weapon. Hardly any trace evidence. It’s a nightmare for Detective Sara Cambull and her team…but they need to find this killer before another gets murdered.

Before one of their own gets killed…

http://www.amazon.com/The-Thorn-Method-ebook/dp/B00F9YWAR8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1381469412&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Thorn+Method