Dear Joanna: Writing to my 13 year-old self

Dear Joanna,

Hello, Joanna! This is Joanna, writing back. It's Sunday the 9th of January, 2014, which makes me 20 years old. You are 13, and in your second year of secondary school.

Let's start with what I remember about you. One of your biggest fears was that I would forget what it was like to be 13, and I want to reassure you that I haven't forgotten you - not one bit. After all, you spend a lot of time thinking about what it will be like to be me, and dreaming about all the things you'll do in the future. To be honest, you spend far too much time living in the future. One of the things I've learnt in the last few years is to try and stay focused on the present, and let the future take care of itself.

You're 13, a ball of hormones, opinions, and angst - like most thirteen year olds! Trust me, it gets better. You're one of the tallest kids in your class, and considered quite bright, with the weird result that you're both self-conscious and a total show-off. Sorry, but it has to be said: you do show-off, and whilst it impresses the teachers, it isn't really impressing any of your classmates at the moment... You're learning the flute, although you hate practicing. Your favourite subjects are Religious Education, Drama, English, and History, although you enjoy almost everything, except sport. You want to be a missionary, or a writer, or an explorer. You love the Redwall series by Brian Jacques, the Narnia stories, and audio books. Your favourite colour is purple and your favourite animal is the squirrel. You have blond highlights that make you look like a zebra and a HUGE crush on Orlando Bloom. A really big crush. It's a bit scary how much you know about him. Unfortunately, Orlando does not stay that good looking - you really won't fancy him when you see him in the Hobbit (yes, they make a film of that!). 

I remember being you. I remember looking through the property pages in the newspaper and choosing my dream house. I remember reading The Curious Incident of The Dog In The Night Time under the table in the dining room, because I wasn't old enough to read it yet (Mum and Dad knew you were doing it, but let you get away with it!). I remember secretly weighing myself in the bathroom and furiously scribbling about how much I hated myself in my diary. I remember how much I worried about friendships and boyfriends and gossip. I remember the excitement of getting an allowance for the first time, and saving up to buy myself a digital camera. (You keep that camera for years, until it breaks when you put it in your handbag without the case, age 19. Sorry.) What I'm trying to say is that being you mattered. At times it was tough, but you have a lot to look forward to. 

Over the next few weeks I'm going to write responses to all the worried notes you left in your diary to your future self, hoping desperately that I'd be okay, and trying to imagine that I could respond. One of your worries was that I'd loose the power to imagine things, so these letters will be proof that I didn't, even though I can't make imaginary worlds the way you could. I'm still a daydreamer, and I'm imagining you opening these letters, seven years ago.

Until next time, keep dreaming.
Love,
Almost-Grown-Up Joanna x 

Essay Block & Ash Wednesday

Warning: I basically wrote off the top of my head in this post. (Freewriting, I know these things!) and it contains teenage angst, even though I'm not really a teenager. If you are allergic to angst, the antihistamines are in the bathroom cabinet, and classic FM can be found online. Do not, under any circumstances, turn on Radio 4: our 'politicians' are still teething and having a bad week, bless... Anyway.

It's essay week, and the work is piling up. My deadline for the short essay I'm working on is Monday, and I have at least one other piece to write for Monday, as well as a novel to read for Monday afternoon, then another two essays to work on. I haven't got very far with any of this at all. 

So why am I writing this? I've been staring at my computer for a bout an hour, and frankly, I just need to write. Until you've started, you just can't continue. All of my essays have come back with comments to the effect that they improve near the end, as I realise what I'm doing and inspiration - as well as time pressure - spurs me on. Obviously this is something I need to work on, as I'd like all my essays to be this good, but to get to that point you have to write something in the first place. 

I've been working, slowly, on another post for this blog. I have bullet point notes and a full idea in my head. It's going to be a discussion of the deification of the mortal, and the human dependency on deity-figures (which sounds like an odd topic for a Christian, right?!) with a discussion on how I distinguish between my God (real - to me) and the varying false gods that capture my attention, like the Doctor, although I'm really not convinced by the plot arcs of the last series or so. 

But I've changed my mind about that post. I don't want this blog to turn into some kind of pretentious, moralising space where I post dull, self-righteous essays on my personal morality, and imply that you should follow it too. I'm thinking about where I should go with this blog, and like the essay on realism in relation to George Gissing and Matthew Beaumont that I should be working on, I'm having to re-think what I'm doing. 

I'll probably delete the draft versions of the last post, so you'll never get to see them. I'm not going to promise never to write another essay like the last post again, but I'll try not to. I'm afraid I don't always keep my resolutions; I have been kind of drunk once since my post on drinking, where I vowed never to be drunk ever again. Not dangerously drunk, not I-can't-stand-up drunk, but drunk. And I'm still not into drinking, and I have no intention of getting drunk ever again, but I still did it. I suppose what I mean is that I'm always trying to make things better, myself included, but writing self-righteous nonsense about my choices won't make me a humbler, or better person.

Wednesday this week is Ash Wednesday, and hopefully, I'll attend Mass in the Chaplaincy to be ashed, and make the repentance of sins which starts the annual journey towards Easter. I love Easter and everything about it; it takes me out of myself, briefly. On the Friday afternoon muffled bells ring, a solemnity only given for the death of a King (or Queen). Then there's the solemn wait, remembering, praying, and then at last, midnight on Saturday, and the end of the vigil. Easter, gaudy and bright, named after a pagan festival, commercialised, the day we remember Jesus rising for the dead. 

I'm not very good at Lent, so I still haven't decided how to prepare this year. I know already that if I try to give anything up, I will fail. This sounds a little negative, but will-power is not my strongest personality trait. Maybe I'll take something up, instead. Even if I accidentally miss Lent (like last year. Oops.) I like to do something for Holy Week, trying to pray more, or actually read the Bible, which I neglect too often.

Perhaps this year my resolution will be to listen more. It's to easy to get stuck in your own head, obsessed with your own voice and opinions, and forget to be there for others when they need you, and I think that maybe I've been caught in this trap recently. I know that I'm not humble, and I mean that, even though I'm confessing it here (!) and I'm conscious that in this blog I've been caught up in my own preconceptions and beliefs. I haven't helped anyone else by lecturing them on morality. From now on, I'm going to try to share more and lecture less, and be significantly less prosaic. Also, I'm going to make my posts shorter, if I can bear it...

I'm not sure how to sign this blog post off. I've been saying 'God Bless' but I'm not keen on those words - it sounds like I'm commanding God to bless you, which isn't very theologically correct! And I know that for many people reading this, those words won't mean anything, even if they comfort me. 
So perhaps this: In whatever faith you have, in your faith in your God or Gods, in humanity, in whatever keeps you strong, be confirmed this week. 

Back, for now, to the essays.

J.R.