The Science of Common Courtesy

Glancing at the title, I envision myself donning teacher’s robes and brandishing a cane at an old-fashioned chalkboard, before an audience of complete dunderheads. At least the “thwacking” of the cane, would (literally) emphasise my point and enhance its significance … the world over.

And so, my lecture is thus: Politeness is something you learn. And something you keep.

It’s something which certain people have lacked as of late, and it’s giving me a headache … (ironically, I’ve encountered too much politeness, and gives me the urge to sigh with ill-concealed frustration, whilst wondering if there could ever be a balance.)

If you want everything simple in life - you’re a moron. If you think life is simple – stick your head in a blender.

Nothing is simple, however if you have an “idea” and not afraid to voice it, then you’re alright kiddo. Life will reach out one metaphorical hand, whilst giving you non-patronising, symbolic pat on the back. Congratulations. You’ve figured it out. You’ve achieved the balance, and the world is your delicious oyster, oozing with possibilities.

Then it’s lesson over.

Class dismissed.

Blegh. The Past.

Home.

Every time I come home from Lincoln, my world becomes one giant cliche: "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."I have BATHS. I watch TELEVISION. I actually want to hug my sister and she tells me she LOVES me. My mum gets teary-eyed. My dad smiles lovingly at me; enamoured by the fact his first-born is living the "student life" and "following her dreams." He shakes his head with laughter, when I admit to smoking and throwing up in stranger's toilets. Oh but it all doesn't matter, does it Daddy-dearest? I'm a student!

Fantastic.

I won't lie - this is all very amusing. More amusing when I flitted through some old photo albums yesterday and unearthed this debauched product. My first instinct was to type a big fat LOL (but I'm not going to pollute this blog with my shredded language skills. Thankyou Facebook), but I was genuinely amused and slightly embarrassed at how mildly pathetic I looked. One, I'm about seven, two I'm dressed in some bizarre, disgusting Salmon-coloured, fleecy jumpsuit (I'm never going to forgive my parents. ever.) and lastly, I'm holding what is unmistakably a shitty, filthy tissue in my hand.

This look at my former self makes one twiddle their metaphorical beard of wisdom. When I delve back to my childhood/teenage years, I was rather ... odd. God. I remember sobbing in the toilets over a broken clay cat in year 6. I convinced myself I was a witch. I made up an alien language. I made a girl cry in year 9 by saying "Die Bitch." I sent horrible text messages when I was year 7 because I was being picked on.

Sheesh.

My only interpretation is low self-confidence. I liked to be in control.

And yet ... it's defined the person who I am now at 19. Yes, I will always feel a bit insecure but don't we all? And I don't look at this picture with shame, merely with wry humour - as that's me, but what I'd LOVE, is to give that young ickle Jessica a big hug and say:

It's gonna be alright kiddo. Hang in there.