The Rules For Being Amazing, by Robin Sharma

Risk more than is required. Learn more than is normal. Be strong. Show courage. Breathe. Excel. Love. Lead. Speak your truth. Live your values. Laugh. Cry. Innovate. Simplify. Adore mastery. Release mediocrity. Aim for genius. Stay humble. Be kinder than expected. Deliver more than is needed. Exude passion. Shatter your limits. Transcend your fears. Inspire others by your bigness. Dream big but start small. Act now. Don’t stop. Change the world.

                                                                                -

Something inside of me has completely snapped and it’s about bloody time. For practically my whole life I’ve been the doormat, I have an easy-going nature and people mistake that for stupidity a lot of the time. They think that because I wont mind if you bail on me at the last minute because you cant be bothered to get dressed that I wont care if you screw me over and treat me like crap. And what I’ve come to realise is that while being gentle and caring and easy-going are personality traits to treasure you have to grow a thick skin if you want to live the sort of life I’m striving for. Somewhere along the way I must have decided I’m worth something because I refuse to let people treat me like I’m not important.

I wouldn’t describe myself as someone who cares massively about what people think about me. I am a girl so there are plenty of times that I feel self-conscious, but I’ve never been afraid of making my hair bigger than a birds nest, or of wearing a crazy outfit that probably doesn’t match. Nor am I afraid to whack my hand in the air and tell people my opinion. But often the people closest to you are the ones who can put walls and barriers in your way, and most of the time they don’t realise they’re doing it. So this is my way of saying ‘get the fuck out of my way or I’ll trample on you.’

If I want to dye all my hair blue, or shave it all off, or tan myself orange, or walk around with face paint on, or have my body covered in skull tattoos, then I will. It’s my life and it’s my choice.

You’re free and you’re you, and no one, not your parents, or me or anyone can tell you what you can and can’t do. You’re one of a kind, there will never ever be another human being exactly the same as you and you should celebrate that. You have to keep pushing forwards because you’re an individual with your own ideas and opinions that are just as valid as anyone else’s. You’ve just got to keep going and not take any crap even when it’s easier to keep quiet.  And when people ask why you’re being defensive all of a sudden you explain kindly that you aren’t being defensive you’re simply not taking any of their shit, and that they don’t get to speak to you that way because you haven’t given them the right to, (even if you do feel like a psycho while telling them this).

What I’ve realised is that even people who are in positions of authority over you, your boss, your parents, a person who intimidates you, are all just human beings. And I think once you’ve realised that you’re truly free because no one will hold you back anymore, you empower yourself. If you act pathetic people will treat you accordingly, you have to go out there, hold your head high and show the world that you believe in yourself, that you have faith and that you are not to be messed around with. I’m tough and I’m strong and even though sometimes I’m panicky and scared, I’ll be buggered if I'll let it stop me from doing exactly what I want to do. Giving up is the saddest thing because even if it seems as if you’re fighting forever one day you’ll have won and it will be so worth it. Be the god of your world because you have the power to choose to do this or that, and no one else on this earth can make those choices for you. I believe we all have a purpose and a destiny, but we also have free will, and it’s our right to choose our lives, to fight for our paths and freedom and to make our lives what they are.

Its true that one day you feel like you could spit fire, and the next you question your very existence, but you have to just believe in yourself, have faith and keep fighting for what you want to do, because what I’m starting to realise is no one else will do it for you. Never ever let someone make you feel embarrassed or small for having a point to make, or for standing up for yourself, never let anyone make you feel as if you’re overreacting. There’s no such thing, if you feel a certain way it’s a feeling, not an overreaction and it should be voiced. You’re not being over-defensive; you’re just not taking any shit. We can make it, we just have to keep pushing forwards, and prove to ourselves that we are important, we are people with feelings that are just as valid as anyone else’s and one day we’ll say ‘well shit, we made it’ and every ounce of self-doubt and weakness will have been worth it.

Find the anchor that gives you faith and enables you to believe in yourself and never let it go. Never stop fighting for what you want and need and be kind in the process.

"One life, one love, live."

Switzerland, the land of fine wine, wealth, cheese, and chocolate… a neutral country split into three different cultures… a country where I saw Thirty Seconds to Mars for the third time at Paleo Festival in Nyon.

I packed my bag and hopped on a plane with my two best friends and before I knew it found myself in Geneva in torrential rain trying to find our hotel, wondering what on earth Jared Leto would think if he were to know what three crazy English girls were doing just to see a show. This was a trip I’d been waiting for since November (when I saw them last) and I was desperate for a Thirty Seconds to Mars fix, and the fact that The Black Keys were following Mars’ show was a bonus that was beyond anything I could have hoped for.

The Black Keys were something else… If you haven’t seen them live, do it! They sound identical to their records, and hearing them play is incredible, they are so talented and I literally had so much fun dancing around to their set. They played ‘Lonely Boy’ and we did the dance, and they played Fever, which was my favourite to hear live, I seriously love that song. Dan Auerbach is a rock god and his music is like heaven. I will definitely be going to see them when they come to England because their shows leave you feeling so happy and on cloud nine. I would honestly recommend anyone to go and see them live if they can, their music sounds so unbelievable live.

Paleo festival itself was such a pretty festival, so fancy and so colourful; I’ve never experienced anything like it. In England our festivals are so mucky and so trashy in comparison. Not that I’m necessarily complaining, there’s something comforting about trashy... I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a weird festival and place in general, I found it so different from what I had expected, and I found the fans at the festival so different as well. Switzerland is super expensive but so pretty, everywhere has mountains as a backdrop, and the Old Town in Geneva is so gorgeous. I could happily hang out in Old Town for a few months, it had such a chilled out vibe and I really didn’t want to come home. 

Going to this festival with my two best friends was the best decision in the world, they literally made this trip. I have honest to god never laughed so much in my whole life, I had tears streaming down my face the majority of the time we spent there, and I love them all the more for it. Being with people you love, for the band you love is to me what life is all about. We made some amazing memories and I will treasure those two girls for the rest of my life.

Now onto Mars: visualise, me sick with excitement, covered in glitter, sitting at the gate ready to run for our front row spot. We arrived at the festival at one in the afternoon, gates didn’t open until four but we wanted to be on the barrier for the show, we had barely slept, barely eaten anything, and we were buzzed. We met two Swiss girls who were absolutely mental in the best kind of way, they were so funny and so friendly, (as is in the Echelon’s nature), and we chatted about how much we love Shannon Leto, and how much of a cool cat Tomo is, and what our favourite Jared hair is… It was the best feeling to be with the Echelon, when you’re all together before a show, so excited and all on exactly the same page it makes you feel indestructible. They opened the barriers and we all ran for it (I almost died of embarrassment) but we got our place on the barrier right in front of the stage and that was all that mattered!

When you’re waiting for Thirty Seconds to Mars to come on stage there is a crackling energy in the air, like everyone has taken a collective breath and is waiting on the edge of a cliff to hear the first strings of ‘Birth’. And when you do, your mind goes blank and you start screaming without realising it, your body shakes and you’re grinning from ear to ear. Tomo literally is hands down the coolest guy in the world, he just always looks sick and he’s so freaking funny! Jared was there in all his splendour, rocking a crown and giving off the most incredible energy, and Shannon… oh my god, Shannon… We were all so happy to see him laughing and playing in his element where he belongs; it felt like such a gift to see all three of them together on stage playing and loving life. It gives so many people so much faith and motivation and during their set you leave earth and you float around in heaven. For me personally Kings and Queens and Closer to the Edge stick out the most, City of Angels made me want to cry - obviously – and Jared’s acoustic set was one of the best I’ve ever seen, even though it was short, his voice was so on point, so unbelievably good.

I have to complain a bit now… Never will you ever hear me complaining about Thirty Seconds to Mars, for me they are life, but the Swiss/French crowds are not something I want to experience again. During Mars’ final song, ‘Up in the Air’ Jared (as we all know) gets people from the crowd onto the stage, and obviously everyone goes mental because we all want a chance. Being at the barrier we had thousands of people behind us, and of course I expected to be crushed against it, its going to happen, but during ‘Up in the Air’ things got way too out of hand and I seriously couldn’t breathe. Girls were fainting left right and centre. Guys were bruising me and girls were climbing on top of me to get over the barrier even if Jared hadn’t picked them. At one point Jared even stopped and said to the crowd to stop and take two steps backwards, which shows you how out of hand things were when Jared usually asks the crowd to get cosier and take two steps forwards! At the time it felt like hell, but when I look back on it (all bruises aside) I wouldn’t change a second of it because I got to see Mars again and that is literally the most important thing. I don’t get a feeling of pure euphoria from anything else like I do from Mars and the show they played was amazing as always.

To so many Echelon Mars is so much more than just a band, and to a lot of people it’s hard to understand why. Okay so you seem a bit crazy when you travel all the way to Switzerland for a concert, but don’t knock it til’ you try it. I defy anyone to go to a Mars concert and not come away feeling so high and hyped. Jared reminds me every day to follow my dreams, no matter how small or huge they are, to keep going and to live life to the fullest, and to be happy and that’s so important. I don’t think it matters where you get that motivation from, but the Echelon find it in Mars and we are a family. I’m pretty good with words and I can’t sum up the way they make me feel. Its like knowing someone will be there for you no matter what, even if Jared, Shannon and Tomo were having a hard time themselves, they still go out almost every night and perform as if its their last show, they give us everything they’ve got and they are such an inspiration. So call me crazy, because I won’t care, I have Mars and they’ve got me and the people who get it are the ones who matter.

Thirty Seconds to Mars = life.

(Some photos I took, but the majority where taken by the Dweebo - Aisha El Tahlawi (the one with the brown hair) haha! So photocred to her.)

There is beauty in the dust motes that swirl in the sun, in sitting in bed crying over your favourite book, in dreaming about all the possibilities that your freedom affords you.

Money: we can’t live without it, but I sure as hell don’t want to live for it. It’s the age long question, do you work to live, or do you live to work?

I just finished watching Blue Jasmine, directed by Woody Allen, it was nominated for quite a few academy awards, and intense would be an understatement. It’s the type of film that uses juxtaposition to make you feel uncomfortable as well as intrigued as the protagonist Jasmine goes around ruining the lives of those around her while simultaneously destroying her own.

In spite of the way that Jasmine is presented as being the one responsible for all of the misery in the film, I’m not sure that I feel like placing the blame entirely on her. (Spoilers ahead…) So, yes she ‘looked the other way’ when it came to her husband’s not so legal business deals, and yes she called the FBI on him when he told her he was in love with another woman and wanted a divorce. But its easy to forget in our patriarchal mind-set that this is a woman who, vanity and self absorption aside, has been humiliated by her husband who has been cheating on her for years. The crux of it is that everyone in Jasmine’s ridiculous world of wealth already knew and failed to mention it to her, and on top of all of that, when confronted about it her husband pulled the classic, ‘you’re crazy’ in an attempt to worm out of it. Thus Jasmine, ultra classy, annoying, socialite, is cast out of her pretend life and into a harsh reality that she cannot cope with. She is forced into living with her sister, who is a working class mother of two, and lives in a cute apartment in San Francisco. I realised after I thought that I’d rather live in the sister’s small and quirky apartment than one of Jasmine’s fancy mansions, that I really don’t want to be wealthy. I wouldn’t turn away a million pounds for anything but I’m talking about wealthy as a life style, being a lady who lunches, a socialite.

I’ve not grown up with a lot of money, I was raised in a single parent household with my mother who got a degree, worked a job and took care of two kids all at the same time, needless to say we never have had very much money. In spite of this we never wanted for anything and I loved my childhood so much that not a day goes by that I don't wish I could go back and just stay a seven year old forever, I had a freedom I never stop yearning for. Now as a student I spend more time living off my overdraft than anything else, and it makes me realise that money isn’t even real. I’m probably making no sense but stay with me… This is a world in which money is absolutely necessary. The drive for earning money is ingrained in our psyche, we’re taken to school, we plan for university, and then we get a job. From age five we’re striving to make a living, to have a career. But what if it’s all just an illusion, Jasmine’s whole life fell apart overnight, her fancy houses and clothes rendered obsolete. Her fabulous connections, and party skills are useless in her new life because she never learned how to be truly happy. She believed that having a shit load of money and a lavish lifestyle would make her happy, but it was all just an illusion.

I can honestly say I’ve never been happier than I was when I was a kid and we had nothing. I would rather be up at night worrying about the bills than worrying about the ways that Mrs next-door’s fat ugly son is better than my own, because that to me would be the biggest failure. When the day comes that you stop finding joy in simple things, when you stop seeing the beauty in a cosy home filled with sunshine and love, when the colours of your fancy kitchen/diner is all you have to worry about, that’s when you know you’ve lost your way. There is beauty in the dust motes that swirl in the sun, in sitting in bed crying over your favourite book, in dreaming about all the possibilities that your freedom affords you. There is no freedom in money; sure it can buy you a ticket to wherever you want to go, it can buy you people’s attention, but at what personal cost? Maybe you’re free to go wherever you want, but your soul is not free. It’s wrapped up in a paper bill and that’s meaningless. 

Its important for me to note that I’m not so cynical as to believe that anyone with a comfortable bank balance is automatically a douche, and I want to earn enough money to be an independent woman but I sincerely hope that money never rules me. That if the day ever – god forbid – comes when money controls my life I’ll have the guts to bail and move into a tent in the wild to live with the Buddhists. All joking aside, there is a fine line between being sensible and delusional, I’m not an idiot, I know that in order to live comfortably you need to make money and I intend to. My irritation comes from the fact that tiny children are forced into a world of constructed reality; they are shaped and moulded into robots, who may go on to make millions, but will be slaves to the system. Children should be out rolling around in mud, chasing their dreams, free and wild and enjoying life. Young adults should be given time to figure out what the hell they want to do for the rest of their lives, and society needs to slow down and allow people to be the way they want to be without being judged and to live freely... I seriously hope that I'll always prefer Jasmine's sister's life than hers, that I'll always appreciate having something happy and comfortable and most importantly that I'll always hold on with both hands to my freedom. 

And that’s my highly pretentious rant about money and life over.

"I must've wished for you so hard and so often you had no choice but to come true.”

I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, my twentieth birthday was almost a month ago already and one of my presents was a set of romance books. I don’t think I would say I was a fan of the romance genre in terms of books, and even films really, with the exception of Twilight and Love Actually. I can’t pretend I haven’t read Fifty Shades of Grey or Bared To You, as much as I’d like to, but sometimes a book comes along and makes you really think. So much so that when you go out on the bus you find yourself looking around wondering about the people surrounding you, are they in love? What are they like? What is their story? It makes you notice the significance of the film you’ve watched a hundred times but only just understand now; it makes you question your own life.

A week ago I began the Sex and the City box set from season one, I was only three episodes in when I came to ‘Bay of Married Pigs’, hilariously entitled it deals with being a single woman with married friends and the possibility that married women suddenly view you as a threat. You’re potentially younger, maybe prettier, and her man is eying you up and down. Anyone would be jealous. However maybe instead of being angry with her single friend, she should direct her rage towards her husband whose eyeballs are hanging out of his head. It occurs to me that there are an entirely different set of rules for men than there are for women, and romance literature supports this wholeheartedly. If a man checks out another woman the subject of his gawping is the one who is chastised. However if a woman dares to ogle at another man, she is met with a jealous possession that romance novels disguise as a man 'taking' his woman in a fit of passion. Not that I’d be complaining if a guy were to be that crazy about me that he’d turn all cave-man to stake his claim. I’m just pointing out that this is the case, and wondering why it’s that way…

Another sticking point for me is the inexplicable way that what a woman looks for in a man has changed dramatically between lets say Jane Austen’s time, and E.L James’s. Back in the good old days women found the idea of eloping with a penniless, but handsome and charming lothario in a whirlwind runway romance the most endearing and desirable fantasy. Since then novels such as Twilight, Fifty Shades of Grey, and the Crossfire series, have changed the way society views what women want in men. Now some may misconstrue women’s obsession with Mr Grey as being all about a secret desire for kinkier sex, however I think it runs deeper than that. To me it seems the allure of male characters such as these are more about the security of their wealth, their possessive nature that makes women feel desirable, and the fantasy that they could be the one woman in which the closed-off, brooding gorgeous millionaire mogul chooses to confide his deepest and darkest secrets to. The women of today, who despite being much more empowered than women were during Austen’s life, are in some ways no further forward in being taken seriously then they were in the turn of the century. In a society where abortion is a touchy subject, where sex trafficking is at an all time high, where women are forced to utilise their bodies and allure to make a living, and in which even successful women are forced to make sacrifices for their careers, it is not entirely shocking that women across the world are turning to fiction such as the Crossfire series and Fifty Shades to live out a utopian dream in which they feel fulfilled. The sad factor is that the root of their craving for these novels comes from their disappointment in men, they turn to a fictional land in which men behave the way they wish they would in reality. The trouble is these stories are far from reality and men like Gideon Cross, sadly, do not exist, and women will always be left bereft and unfulfilled in more way than one in their relationships.

It goes without saying that there are men in the world who make wonderful husbands, and are attentive and loving, and I envy the women who are lucky enough to snag one of the good ones, because the majority of us are left with snaggle-tooth boys who don’t know a tit from a clit. The point is that – at the risk of sounding sexist towards men – women are generally wishing that a rich, handsome, sex god will swoop into their lives, sweep them off their feet, and make them feel like a goddess, and instead find themselves watching Romeo and Juliet on repeat, munching on Thornton’s, and rapping along to a lame Drake song.

My prediction is that we’re just going to have to keep praying girls, in the hope that Mr Grey, or Gideon Cross will one day fall right into our laps. Until such a time, keep your chins up and your noses in a romance novel!

Laters baby…

“Millennials (also known as the Millennial Generation, or Generation Y) are the demographic cohort following Generation X.”

My name is Miranda Tempest, I'm twenty years old and I belong to Generation Y and I can’t make up my mind as to whether I’m happy about it or not… We are a generation who has witnessed first hand the vast difference between the ‘90s’ and the ‘Naughty’s.’ We watched as Take That, and The Spice Girls were replaced with One Direction and Little Mix (vom), as SEGA disappeared and IPhones appeared. We are the last generation to remember what a VCR is, and what it was like to get up early on a Saturday to watch our favourite cartoons. Only Generation Y knows the pain of realising they are not, in fact, going to Hogwarts when they turn eleven. We went through parties akin to that which we viewed on Skins, and messed ourselves up over absolutely nothing. We’re all crazy, self-indulgent, lazy young adults who refuse to grow up (with the exception of a special few), and we are the generation who will be starting our last year at University in September. We have one year left, it counts the most in terms of our grades, it will either make or break us, and we’re all scared shitless.

People always ask me what I want to do once I leave university; they have this glint in their eye that suggests they think I will be one of those eternal students. They know I don’t have a clue, and it seems everyone else around me knows precisely what they want to do. I have ideas, and passions, I’d like to go into publishing, and I’d love to travel around the world, but the likelihood of my plans actually panning out are probably fairly slim; such is life. Maybe the paralysing fear I feel about the prospect of leaving University is unique to me. I definitely don’t feel my age, I’m twenty years old and while my peers are out taking part in who knows what kinds of shenanigans, I’m sat at home in my Sainsbury's pyjama set watching SpongeBob Squarepants or reading Harry Potter. Seriously. So how on earth do all of these adults expect me to be able to honestly and confidently answer their questions about what I want to do in life after University?  

University has been an absolute rollercoaster ride from the get go, my first year was the most baffling, difficult, and amazing year of my life and while it may be fraught with regrets, I doubtless learned my fair share of lessons, not all of which I particularly wanted to learn. I escaped my second year with barely a hiccough and my best friends are my saving grace, I ended the year feeling shocked that so much time had gone by so quickly, and grateful for a rest… A rest that didn’t last so long… I have to find somewhere new to live, and am faced with the horrifying prospect of having to move back into halls, which I prefer to call a homeless shelter that charges extortionately high rent. Not to mention the mountain of books to read for my dissertation and modules in preparation for September, oh the horror! I wont lie and say the hundreds of things I have on my to-do list are robbing me of my midday lie-ins, I am a student after all, but I can’t deny that I’m woken at least once a week in the middle of the night anxious about my final year. Its difficult to put my finger on exactly what it is that is so frightening, is it the looming finish date? Or is it the feeling that everything is up in the air, that nothing is set in stone? There is certainly a feeling that dreams that I had wont be possible anymore, that places I wished to visit on my backpacking adventure are going to cost too much money, and the expectation to put a foot on the first rung of my career hangs over me like a cartoon rain cloud.

I’m babbling incessantly and I’m sure this is one of the most boring posts I’ve ever uploaded, but trying to assemble how I feel about entering my final year of University is not an easy task. How are a bunch of big kids supposed to pull themselves together enough to be able to organise their futures and actually get what they want out of it? How are we, Generation Y, supposedly the most screwed up generation, expected to orchestrate our hopes and dreams in a world where it’s too expensive to  eat let alone fulfil our fantasies? The answer continues to evade me but that isn’t stopping me from chasing desperately after it like a sleep-deprived student during finals. I suppose we just have to suck in a huge breath, hold it, and pray to almighty God that it all works out in the end.