Email to a friend about career paths and what not.

Hey Charlie the Adventurer.

I have decided that is an additional nickname in which I will be calling you from now on. maybe with regular intervals which include your other 4 additional nicknames. Either way you have no choice in the matter.

I thought I would email you due to the fact I have come across a major life decision/career path and that I'm also in bed with the biggest migraine I have ever had in my 17 years of being alive. I have thought through thoroughly (ooh the alliteration) trying to decide what to actually do with my life after sixth form and so forth. As you well know from my rambling conversations on this topic, I have fluctuated between several career based decisions and have finally gone back to the roots or gut feeling of my 12-14 year old self of journalism. Or more precisely, writing a column for a magazine. I would like to pursue the path of a columnist. I am going to be a writer.  Although the majority of popular magazines are fashion/popular gossip from the ol’ town of Hollywood, I have browsed the magazine sections and have found the more independent magazines, which apparently only the minority read, to be much more suiting to my style of writing. And actually, a lot more interesting. My English Language teacher is (currently) impressed with my pieces, although, and I quote, they are “absolutely unacceptably late” she still grades them, persistently higher than I expect. “It was brilliant Ella, just hand it in on the date not 15 days post to the deadline”. To quote Mick Jagger: “Old habits die hard”.

So, Alas, it may be time to drop the unreachable dream of being a lawyer or a psychologist or even a family mediator, or whatever the hell that nutty nonsense was, and focus on my writing. A change of AS levels next year to accommodate this decision is definitely necessary, all to English/creative media tasks (I may throw in some Fine Art for the shits and giggles) and I think that’s probably more me.  

I have bought myself a journal (or more Tom has bought me one, due to the fact I have lost my job…) along with a significantly expensive array of pens to get me started.

The next time you see me I may be writing a column for a magazine, living in a lovely house with my husband and children. The money flowing in rapidly as well as the happiness and loving lifestyle I have created. Or I may be a struggling student breathing in the dank air as I take up a nasty habit of smoking due to ‘fitting in’ with the oh so cool English crowd, struggling with writers block and become increasingly thinner, whilst writing all my creations on the damp wooden floor…whatever happens I know that I’ll be happy and content with what I am doing (or trying to do) with my life. So It turns out, I should have listened to 12 year old me before I took up psychology and law. Because I was right all along. Who said 12 year olds don't know what they’re doing.

lots of love,

Ella (future columnist).

P.S please tell me more about your trip! or new life? I know you’re busy with turtles and lists of buckets (you know your bucket list) and what not…I hope you’re enjoying yourself! missing your moles. hope to hear from you soon! xxx  

My Mini Sagas.

Haunted.

When I rolled over to see if you were still there,
You hastily opened your exhausted, glassy eyes.
“What are you looking at?” you spat.
Your cold voice echoed in the dark.
I closed my bruised eyelids.
I answered with nothing but a sigh,
And you were gone once again.

 

Definitely not the suburbs.

It doesn’t matter if you smash that window.
Or if you talk to your neighbour using expletives.
Or if you’re lacking in the basic manners since birth,
Even if your parents really tried.
It doesn’t matter if you steal.
Or if you wrong, rights.
Because you’ll never fit in anyway.

 

Ring of Fire

Lifting granddad out of the vehicle,

His head shook from side to side.

“Careful!” shouted Dad when we walked over.

I wish Nan was here, she’d know how to do this.

Everyone looked sad as we walked into the crematorium.

Granddad had ring of fire played as his last song.

 

 

Article about Nothing.

Have you Ever been lied to? In the office, at school, by your friends, girlfriends or boyfriends? And is it really that much of a big deal?...

Sitting in my oxford university apartment, which I had to tell a few white lies to get, I’m thinking to myself, what is lying and why do we do it?

Ella Keating

If I was to ask you whether or not the times you’ve apologized have been legitimately genuine or whether you said ‘I’m sorry’ just so you didn’t have to face another minute of you opponents/ partners (same sort of thing) flushed red cheeks and obviously incorrect comments directed towards your obviously incorrect statements. Or when you lent your newest acquaintance a subtly satin, beautiful crafted, excessively expensive handbag that you “don’t need for a couple of weeks anyway”, with the hope of meeting a new fashion friend who you can destroy the office with only using your powers of fashion and friendship. Only to figure how much you hated her. But ALAS! How can you simply ask her for your bag back when you can’t even look directly at her out of pure principle! What to do next? Face the trauma of politely stating that you needed it back? NO! Don’t be so ridiculous…Find someone who to tell a lie about how much they hated you too and ‘oh that’s a nice bag! Can I borrow it for a while, I don’t like her much either I promise I won’t tell”. Only to breathe a sigh of relief when you witness the  passing of the glistening satin into your friends hands to then gather in the ladies loo’s and bitch about her with your lying friend and your newly retrieved item…

Whilst sitting on my own, cocktail in hand on the white sandy beaches of Hawaii (AKA my brand new, bare white flat and a cheap lemonade and vodka in hand) I came to the realisation that not only do I need other items in my house and not only a sofa bed but that maybe I lie more than I realise. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a pathological liar who manipulates people into doing things for me…all the time. However, my fake ID at the age of 16 was when the lying began. Holding hands with my 19 year old boyfriend (who told me he was religious but something told me otherwise) and walking to pretty much anywhere with the “cool kids” that my parents strongly disapproved of (which I protested against usually with “it doesn’t matter anyway mum! I don’t hang around with them often and oh my god no they don’t smoke any ‘green matter’…) Now I know what you’re thinking, “Damn, fake ID, cool friends that smoked green matter…or not…this girl got it all!” or most likely; “Big deal Ella! Everyone had a fake ID! HELL I still use mine”. To begin with, yes at the time it felt like I had it all and secondly let’s not kid ourselves here…put the ID joke to rest. But lying to my loving, caring parents who had “clearly never spat a filthy lie once in OUR ENTIRE LIVES ELLA”-Mr.Keating 2014, was the most rebellious thing anyone in my village has EVER DONE. We all know that if we do something for 25 days, every day then it becomes a natural habitable state. Let’s just say the summer of 2005 did not involve Roller Rinks and picnics with the girls… (Sorry mummy). Unless a godly saint of all holiness has landed directly on top of your soul and has taken over with its own non rebellious, non-lying, non-cheating (sorry boyfriend of 2005) personality then just please say, out loud, (and proud?): “I am a mildly subconscious liar”. Don’t tell me that you did because you didn’t. Who would? No one wants to openly admit that they are a liar. But by denying it…Aren’t you just lying?

However, on thought, lying happens in every single day of your ‘thrilling and adventurous life’ that you pursue…at least according to Amanda in finance? How was your holiday by the way?  Full of stomach bugs and hot, sleepless nights? Didn’t think so… It happens in the street because that attractive woman isn’t that busy and yeah we all carry change but I haven’t seen proof Mr Charity man so no thank you. At work, at home and in almost every establishment you’ve ever walked into. But why can’t lying be used for the greater good? That dress doesn’t actually make you look thinner but a “you look beautiful” will make anybody feel good. As long as your lies don’t damage, harm, hurt or offend anyone then isn’t it just a natural thing?

And also mum and dad, Santa and the tooth fairy aren’t real. I’m 24 stop signing letters from them. But I guess I should tell you that he was 21 not 19.