How to be more productive

So lately I’ve been having trouble with writing an english essay. I’ve tried various methods to be more productive so I thought: why not share them with you!

Make  it colourful. For me, colourful, aesthetically pleasing notes are so much nicer to look at, and therefore make having to use them to study much less daunting.

Break it into smaller, more manageable chunks. This makes the amount of work seem much smaller, and therefore les intimidating.

Change your location. This was the best thing for me: I went to a coffee shop, where there was hardly any distractions, and I actually finished the essay :))

Music! I’m really enjoying ‘The Japanese House’ at the moment, especially to work to. Their music is so chilled, and it’s such a great background noise which blocks out any distractions, but also keeps me calm and grounded. 

Give yourself a deadline. I work so much better if there’s a strict deadline as then I feel as though there’s something to bind me.

Surround yourself with productive people… If they’re going to motivate you. I have to be in a certain mood for this, but sometimes if I’m surrounded by my friends being productive then I feel bad and I also buckle down and work. 

… Or hide away until you’re finished. Other times, anything and everything distracts me, and the only way to things done is to completely isolate myself where there’s minimal distractions. 

Take breaks. I need to do this to keep sane, enough said. 

‘Will I ever be more than I’ve always been?’- a song in Dear Evan Hansen

The importance of conversation

So this is going to make me sound completely insane, but recently I’ve started talking to myself. Out loud. Proper conversations.

Like, I’ll look in the mirror, and pretend someone has asked me a question. And then I’ll answer it.

I think, being an only child, never really having to say much or debate with other people outside of school kind of leaves me at a disadvantage, especially in discussion based subjects like English. I mean, even one on one I actually find myself unable to talk things through, the jumbled thoughts in my brain (which form sentences and proper strings of logical words on paper, no problem) just don’t translate.

Which is why, for me, this is actually really helpful.

Whilst having these conversations, I’ve taught myself how to just talk. No plan, no aim. Just talk, in an understandable, logical way. For example, I worked out the reason I hate full, thick faces of makeup. I think they’re deceitful, fake, dishonest. I think they’re a waste of time. But I realised more than that. I came to the realisation that I’m disgusted that we have come to this; that teenagers and young adults feel the need to paint a thick mask onto their skin, to completely rework their face (in some cases). Yes, I’m a part of this. I do not have the confidence to leave the house without mascara, eyebrows, foundation. Even though I know the foundation looks orange on my skin, I know the mascara makes my eyelashes clumpy and dark. But I will never leave the house without it.

It shouldn’t be that way. It isn’t for boys, so why has this become such a great problem for girls. It’s honestly scary… we are a generation so fearful of hate and judgement that we spend money and time to change how we look. That’s not right.

Anyway, back to topic. Speaking.

I’m by no means confident about speaking. Not yet, it’s still one of my worst nightmares to have to read something in front of other people, but we’re getting there.

I realise this makes it sound like I’m physically unable to talk, which isn’t true. I’m told that I talk very well to other people, and I do think that’s true… when it’s about things I’m confident with. I can talk about my subjects, the books I’m reading, what I’m planning to do for uni just fine. But the moment it’s a topic that’s new to me, or something I’m very uncertain in that ability goes. Boomph.

It’s made me realise the importance of challenging children. Not to a point where it upsets them, or makes them doubt themselves, but to a point that makes them think. I believe that I’ve never really had to think, that where my brain gives out everything else i need has been handed to me. And whilst that’s easy at the time, it’s going to make sixth form and uni a whole lot harder. Ohhhhh great.

‘Conversation is one of the loveliest of the arts’- Oscar Wilde. Fitting, I think, haha

I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing

The future really freaks me out. 

Now I’m one of those people who can’t wait to leave home; the prospect of not just freedom but being able to take control of my life rather than just being an extension of my parents is so so soo exciting. So I’ve established that I want to move out after I finish my A levels. Good. What next?

This is where my ‘plan’ terminates. I don’t think it can even be classed as a plan if I’m honest. More of a step: move out. 

I’ve written previously about Cambridge university; I was hoping to apply, genuinely wanting to get a place. And that’s a great aspiration to have … except now it’s not even true anymore. At this point in time, I have no desire to go to Cambridge or oxford. 

At the moment, I want to study english. But ask me in a months time, go on. It’s unlikely that my desire to study english will still be there. 

The thing that scares me is my complete cluelessness at what I want to do after uni, and my amazing indecision. I can’t even decide what to wear in the morning, how am I supposed to plan my future. I’m  too young for this. 

I feel as though I’m bluffing my way through my A levels. My courses are an odd mix, and they really don’t compliment each other, I always seem to have a mountain of work overdue and I’m yet to experience being drunk or going to parties. 

In a way, I feel as though I’m so eager to move out that I haven’t considered what it’ll actually be like. I mean, what if I completely flop in the first week?

It scares me so much that my whole future is entirely dependent on 3 grades. I’m really dreading those final few months – I have high expectations of myself, and I know I’ll put myself under stupid amounts of pressure. 

Ohhh joy. 

‘Then her soul sat on her lips, and languid flowered.’ – Charlotte Brontë, from Jane Eyre