"I once essentially bullied a boy in to giving me a valentines card and then corrected his spelling"

I knew the blog posts would kick in once I had work to do.

After spending most of my afternoon writing an essay and listening to indie/soft rock music from my teenage years (the sort of stuff I was blasting when the world 'just didn't understand meeeee!' Think Paramore, All American Rejects etc.) I feel sufficiently prepared to tackle a subject that has been on my mind for a little while.

Let me set the scene. I've just started watching 'That 70s Show' again. I love it so much - it never fails to make me laugh. Last night I ended up watching one of the earlier episodes before Donna and Eric get together. So, it's the usual set-up - she likes him, he likes her, you just want to bash their heads together and scold them for being so blind etc. Well, in this episode a problem arises. The pair are playing basketball and Donna beats Eric. The rest of the episode focuses on Eric getting mocked for being 'beaten by a girl', but what really hit home is that Donna then had to face the all too familiar decision as to whether she should behave in a more feminine manner so that a boy will like her? I really do love this show, and I'm sure this later scene was meant as a joke, but it still horrified me - Donna's mother pretends she can't open a jar of pickles and calls for Donna's father's help so that he gets a masculine ego boost and then fawns all over her because she's so cute and helpless. The episode kind of deals with this issue, but I'm not sure it did strongly enough for my satisfaction - Donna continues as she is but not before momentarily conceding and attempting to be a dainty, simpering girl. Finally Donna and Eric continue to play games but just stop keeping score. Hmmm. I wouldn't really call that a solution to the problem.

I'm painfully aware that I can easily write about this with scorn and have a clear idea in my head of what the right response to this issue is, but I know deep down it's something that has always plagued my concerns. As fate would have it, from a young age I have never been the sweet, petite girl on the playground - I was always more like a loud, ungainly hippo (good feminist upbringing - girls can do what boys do - aka I threw myself around the place with little delicacy). Actually, I was friends with the sweet, petite girl - she had very long hair, fluttering eyelashes and a voice that honestly resembled a twittering disney bird. Ah yes, another thing, my spectacularly low voice. Yes, Rachel has never been called 'cute' or 'sweet' - I certainly never had the physique for it, and I think my personality has always matched. No boy thinks a girl who corrects their spelling is cute (yes, I did that a lot - I once essentially bullied a boy in to giving me a valentines card and then corrected his spelling).

So, naturally, when the boys started flaunting over the little, charming girls the alarm bells started to go off. What am I doing wrong? Why does no one think I'm adorable? What should I do? My chubby, boisterous childhood, right through to my awkwardly curvy, aggressively academic teenage years were shadowed by the looming threat that no boy would ever like me because I'm really in no way feminine.
I think that's something people really don't pay enough attention to (yes I've read enough feminist articles about it to make your eyes fall out but I think society as a whole has really not taken this information on board) - from my experience and that of my friends, I get this overwhelming feeling that girls are expected to be boy magnets - it is so rough to be the awkward girl at school (not even awkward in a cute Juno-esque way).

And really, it's a natural science right? Boys like girls? (Well, some boys) So clearly boys want a girl who really IS a girl? So I should have done all in my power to be a girly girl?

I make this light and jokey, but that's probably a nicer way to deal with it - ask me about this again on a day where I've been weeping about how I never had an adolescence where I felt remotely attractive to the opposite sex because I've never felt like one of the 'pretty girls'.

Sadly, this anxiety doesn't really disappear. The Art History department was really a bad choice in this respect. The department of immaculately dressed, sexy, beautiful girls. Seriously boys, get yourselves over there - it's where they all are. You really never feel more troll-like than when you crash in to an Art History lecture with unbrushed hair and realise no one told you it was dress-like-you're-on-a-catwalk day (which I've now gathered seems to be every day...)

It feels like there's no in between a lot of the time. Either you can be a walking Vogue editorial or accept your status as a lamp (Haha, I can't believe I haven't shared my wonderful metaphor with more people - I once explained to a friend that I considered myself a lamp - a random household object - no one looks at a lamp with lust - sure, it's a nice object but no one looks at it in that way - see, perfect metaphor!)

So, I can be a dirty great liberated feminist who doesn't get up early to put my face on but does that mean I have to be lonely forever?

I've found myself trying to be more feminine. Of course I have. I think it had pretty much the same result Donna reached - people wondering what on earth is wrong with you and making yourself even more strange than usual. And then of course afterwards I have to scold myself. 'Bad bad feminist! Go sacrifice something at the altar of Germaine Greer and repent for your sins!'

So, what do I do?
And then, of course, the warm embrace of feminism brings me to my answer.

I've been reading Caitlin Moran's book 'How to be a Woman' this summer (a lot of it similarly concerns her awkward childhood and the question of feminine vs. feminist). This book has become my personal bible. Another big 'Oh thank god a woman who felt this way too' moment. Seriously, read this book. I adore it. There are a number of books I keep with me wherever I happen to be living at the time (my all time favourites to turn to) - this is my newest addition. I may be buried with it. What I think, and what goddess Caitlin has reinforced, that what is really wrong here is the assumption that there is a way to 'be a woman' and if you're not that way you're clearly a cave troll. We need to break this. We need a culture of confident women - not the dainty darlings on pedestals and girls who feel like toads hoping to meet a somewhat attractive blind man one day.

Of course, not all is lost. There are already strong female characters out there. An interview with J.K. Rowling about the character Hermione really struck me - Hermione never apologises for who she is or complies with the needs of the boys - she takes command, reads stupidly big books and isn't afraid to have a not-so-delicate moment because that's who she is - a feisty, independent young woman (god I love a good feisty, independent young woman). How exhausting would it be to keep up the girl act if that's not who you are? (Extremely. Believe me, I've tried. The make-up application every morning stopped on day three). Furthermore, I read about a new theory that in situations where children should be praised adults are now being encouraged to tell young girls that they are clever not beautiful. Lets make brains and brilliance the criteria for a 'great girl'. How refreshing would it be to hear someone say: "Oh godddd. She just has it all. I mean, the way she grasped Kant's criteria for the aesthetic experience... I just wanted to applaud her! What a brain! What a woman!"

So, I think we know the answer to the original debate of this post is that you should never compromise on your ability or personality to make yourself more 'desirable'. You don't need to change - expectations need to change.

Woe is me, I am a slug.

This blog title is something one of my friends said when she'd done something wrong. I think it's a good phrase for when you understand that you've been a bit useless. I realise I haven't blogged since July... Whoops. So, I am a slug, and I apologise.

Life has been somewhat busy recently and now I find myself with a week to go until I officially return to university for my (ugh... I don't want to say it...) 3RD YEAR... Where did my carefree youth go?! You know what's equally scary? I'm 21 in a month exactly. 2-freaking-1!!! I can feel myself crumbling already. Strap me to my zimmer-frame and get it over with. This can't be seen on a blog but I'm pouting now... I think I'll just spend my return to university and 21st birthday in denial. Yes. Hiding in a corner somewhere with a nice art history book and endless supply of coffee to ease my pain. I'm not American, I don't have drinking to look forward to - just a reflection upon how I'm really not that close to being a teenager anymore. What on earth am I going to blame my bouts of stupidity on now?! Good God, the world may truly know - it's not hormones, she's just an idiot.

Still, onwards, to happier things! I thought I should probably write a little summary of my summer excursions. When I say little I think anyone who keeps up with my blog will know by now that I use that term loosely - we'll see how small I can keep this on the word front...

Croatia

My first trip abroad this summer (I was lucky enough to make quite a couple of these) was to Rovinj in Croatia. My father befriended a Croatian woman through work and now I have come to be close with her, her sister and her mother. They are all wonderfully strong but empathic women. There are certain people in the world who you talk to, and when you talk to them you feel like life is logical and sorted - they are so certain in everything they say - these women are these sorts of people. To be around them is to be reassured. On top of their great company, Croatia is a beautiful place. The trip was a soul vacation for me - I swam in the sea, cycled along the coast, explored back streets, caught up with some personal writing - essentially took some time to myself in an extraordinary location.

German Romanticism to Expressionism Course at The Courtauld

Following my relaxed getaway (nothing clears your mind like lying on a boat in the middle of the sea in the baking sun) I returned to London for a week at The Courtauld Institute. I'm one of those people who needs to feed my mind - I actively enjoy lectures (I can imagine what's going across some people's minds now - "KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE!") Agh, I'm a self-confessed nerd - I love to think and learn. So, yes, in my summer 'break' I signed up for a course about German art, ranging from Romanticism to Expressionism.  I adored it. When people think of famous art, who are the greats that come in to conversation? Michelangelo, Van Gogh, Monet, Picasso etc. etc. Do any Germans spring to mind? Not really. Perhaps Albrecht Durer - but many people really aren't familiar with him. German art has an incredibly complicated and neglected history. There is a sense of insecurity that has run through their practice for hundreds of years. Yes, in the sphere of music they have paved the way (practically dominated it), but in visual art they have been in a constant fight to define themselves. I strongly recommend that people become closer acquainted with their culture and work - it is fascinating.

The Olympics

How could I discuss this summer without mentioning the olympics? It has been my everyday and obsession nearly all summer. I think with fondness about the buzz leading up to the opening ceremony, the pride and thrill of the games and now our new excitement over the Paralympics. Hmmm, how to put this? British people... We're renowned for our self-deprecation. The key difference I notice between myself and my American friends is confidence. I'm part of a culture that really doesn't expect to do well and loves the underdog. In the build up to the olympics we were all wondering if Britain could pull off hosting the games (Mitt Romney had the nerve to voice this - yes, we may be worrying about it but if anyone else strides in here and claims we're not ready we'll turn on them like a pack of hyenas!) To actually rank third in the games was unreal. We're a small, odd, anxious country (we don't charge in loaded with confidence like the Americans, or have the cool skill of the Chinese) and to perform like this made us turn around and think "Okay. We've got something to be proud of." Honestly, to just walk in the streets and see other Brits gave you such a sense of pride - everyone came together in this excited buzz and thought "Yes, this tiny nation has some fight in it". I managed to attend a morning of swimming heats (my favourite olympic sport to watch) and an evening of athletics (things like pole vaulting, hurdles, shot put, the steeple chase). My time at the olympic park was just extraordinary. The joy in those venues was overwhelming - the whole time I thought "This can't be real. I can't be at the olympics. I must soak up every second, every detail". Britain is going to have such terrible Olympic withdrawal by the end of this summer.

Florence

I returned to Florence in early August. Last year I travelled to Florence with the company Art History Abroad and this summer I got to share one of my favourite places with my family. I dragged the poor things around so many museums, churches, streets etc. - they were very patient with me. We began to joke that I should hold up an umbrella like the other tour guides and get a handheld microphone for my talks - I did subject them to mini lectures in front of numerous pieces of art (I did say that they were very patient). You could probably worry about returning to a place so soon after visiting it and becoming bored, but for me Florence could never be boring - I was still overwhelmed when standing in front of the Duomo, somewhat teary again in front of Donatello's Magdalene and at peace before Pontormo's Gabriel. Such sensational work could never be dull however many times I stand before it. Plus, given that I had my family with me, they would draw me to new discoveries and experiences. It was such a pleasure to be back and I know it won't be the last time.

Portugal

To end my travelling this summer I had a small break this weekend in Porto - a large city in Portugal (a world heritage site). Once again, I was travelling thanks to one of my father's work connections. He recently befriended a Portuguese woman so we visited her and her family. She has two young daughters (aged five and nine) - they are exactly like my younger sister and I were when we were young. The elder is very serious, quieter and academic, whilst the younger is a loud, funny, bubble of energy. To spend time with these girls was to really revisit my childhood - I kept looking at that serious little girl thinking "Oh yes, that was me alright. She really isn't going to change that much." Porto itself is beautiful - as you would expect from a world heritage site... Sadly we only had two days to explore so time was limited to wonderful old bookshops, cafes, churches, an art gallery and a palace. One thing that really struck me about the magnificent architecture was the use of tiles - lots of buildings, instead of having a plain facade, are covered in patterned tiles - so so lovely. Being English I must mention the weather! It was spectacularly sunny - I soaked up my last rays and basked in the heat, knowing I'll need to live off these memories in Scotland!


So, that's my summer in a nutshell. Plenty more happened but I won't bore everyone with all the minute details. Perhaps a catch-up over a pot of tea will be required for a greater reflection upon my summer? Honestly, that's what I'm really looking forward to soon. I have so many dear university friends to reunite with.

I promise I'll try to be more vigilant on the blog front from now on! I've got a post about films that I've been working on for an age - fingers crossed I'll move faster with it. Plus, when I'm back to university with urgent work to be done, naturally hundreds of blog ideas will fly in to my head and I'll put my degree at risk to indulge in writing my usual nonsense!

Apple Pie Cake

I haven't written about food in a while. Odd, considering it's something I invest quite a fair amount of time in...

Over time I have come to accept that I am not a bright-eyed, blonde, bean pole with biologically impossible breasts and a wardrobe to die for. I am short, dark, have an 'unusual face' (yes, I have been told that), 'good child-bearing hips' (yes, I've been told that too) and as my little sister would say, 'the wardrobe of a hobo'. Still, there may be someone out there who finds the combination of 'good child-bearing hips' and the 'wardrobe of a hobo' to be everything they were looking for? Haha. Still, it's what I embrace and I know my cooking habits would not bring me anywhere near the blonde bean-pole dream, especially my most recent project...

The apple pie cake.

My dear friend Naomi (who I met on my wonderful art history course last summer) turned eighteen recently. I know... She's so young! I must admit that I felt spectacularly old (I'm only twenty...) when I attended her birthday party recently. That young thing and all of her friends were talking about university worries, the elation of leaving senior school and the dreaded A Level results day - I felt like I'd stepped in to a bizarre time machine. I am so old - my teenage years have vanished - I am half way through my degree - how did this happen?!

Anyway, my quarter-life-crisis can wait. Back to the cake. Ahh the cake... I wanted to make something special for the occasion and a generic victoria sponge or chocolate cake would not do. I wanted to branch out and challenge myself. Well, this cake certainly did that. It became my new monster.

A three tier cake. Light vanilla and apple sauce sponge. Apples stewed with cinnamon and nutmeg to separate the tiers. A caramel buttercream frosting to complete it.

This is all actually relatively simple to create. What matters is timing and organisation. There are a lot of things to manage at once - sponge, filling, icing (making caramel yourself is so challenging - impatience could get the better of you and make you burn it) and then of course there's stacking it all together. Did I mention this is hard to do when you have three pet cats lurking around the kitchen ready to thwart your efforts at any moment?

Oh, and travelling with it. That can be an issue. When I arrived at Naomi's home the poor thing had barely time to register my arrival as I crashed through the front door stressed over a cake where the top two tiers had slid off the base one with the icing all askew. Never mind, some readjustment got things back on track.

I think it's definitely something you'd enjoy the comfort of on a cold winter day (I'm thinking of any day in St Andrews to be honest... but especially when it gets horribly dark, cold and wet in winter). However, I was able to make it this summer because heat has still not reached England! Just rain and grey sky!

It's a good mixture of sweetness and spice - the stewed apples become almost caramelised, the frosting is just the right balance before being sickly and the sponge gives a warm kick. In terms of texture, the soft sponge (I think the apple sauce is what makes it so moist) is a great contrast with the slight crunch of the apple. 

I refuse to let this be a one time creation. It will resurface at some point. I'll be going in to the third year of my degree in September so I'm sure there will be many opportunities for baking procrastination! 

Identity

I think a lot of my friends know by now that I have a bit of an arty background - perhaps a couple of university ones don't? I was very close to going to art college at one point in time but honestly, I didn't have the talent or complete passion for it. After two years at university on a 'more academic route' I've confirmed to myself that I am more suited to Art History than creating art myself. Still, from time to time I dabble and return to my old ways - I dip in and out of life drawing classes when my workload isn't too much. Today I found myself creating this (it's not finished yet - whole right side to go - but I think I'm going to leave finishing it for a while). 

I'm not entirely happy with it, as usual - I don't know an artist who is ever completely happy with their work (one eye is definitely larger than the other and I don't think it really resembles me that strongly - bah, self portraits are so hard). 

Still, this is the start of an idea that I have been playing with for a while. There was a painting in the living room of one of my childhood friends that I always fixated upon when I was younger (my art historian roots already forming) - I sadly don't know the title of it or who it was by but I can picture it so clearly even now - it was a profile portrait of a man and he was composed entirely of different flowers e.g. his nose was made of rose petals. I always thought it was so clever. So, since quite a young age, I've always had this idea kicking around about creating faces out of different objects (not just flowers). 

The final aim for this work is to have my whole face covered in different quotes, images, symbols etc. that I think 'sum up' the making of me. For example, next to my eye on the right of the page is the moon, stars and the quote 'Dare to disturb the universe'. I've always had a fascination with the solar system (again this was something I've been attached to from a very young age), then this focus developed in to my awe about the vastness of the universe and power of nature. I thought the quote fitted in that it mentions the universe, but it also has two more links for me. It was the quote I used to structure my retiring speech as head girl to my senior school around, so it has a strong emotional attachment. Also, 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' was the poem I studied for A Level English Literature - I had one on one classes and they were such a joy - the poem spoke so strongly to me and I really look back on those studies as a time where I grew and found myself. 

The struggle with this work hit me today when I took a break from it. Firstly, it made me start to think the spectacularly frustrating question of 'Who am I?' Didn't I go to university to answer that question? I suspect I might get glimpses in to an answer (I have never felt so comfortable in myself as I do at university) but somehow I think I may have to settle with the fact that it is one of life's maddening unanswerable questions. To even fully know yourself can be hard - I still manage to surprise myself from time to time. Furthermore, you can have the amazing moments of finding those special people who bring things out of you that you didn't know you were capable of. Ahhh, back to the same track, the wonderfully complicated nature of human beings. Another less pressing but still tricky issue is how to depict parts of what make me - my drawing remains at a basic stage - the question of how to depict music or academia is going to be a challenge. Still, I remain hopeful that things will work and I'm not going to come back to this work straight away. I need some time to step back and think about what to do next, I'm just glad I finally got it started. 

'Here Comes The Sun'

Pah! The sun is not here! It's almost JULY and it is RAINING. Come on London!! What is this??
Still, I was trying to think of a song about summer for a good title - it was either my favourite song 'Here Comes The Sun' or 'Summer Lovin' from Grease (such a cringe inducing song that I have to be in an incredibly particular mood for!)  So, divine song versus cheesy musical song - 'Here Comes The Sun' wins.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I've been meaning to write a post about my summer for a while. I've had lots of blog post inspiration recently (posts about odd things like Damien Hirst to come!), but was strict with myself and said I can't write any of them until I have finished this one.

Summer. Now I'm a university student it's actually quite an odd time. It's an adjustment to move back to an old life from another life far away (which is very different - I run my own house, work to my own timetable - essentially I do what suits me in an independent manner). I can sometimes feel like I'm not quite settled - I go to one place, gradually get in to my routine, and then I'm off to the other. It's tough to articulate this without sounding like I don't want to be home - I am really happy to be home, it's hard being without my family during term time (to lose proximity with your greatest source of support is hard). Being home is something I love but, of course, there is a routine I have to get back in to which takes time. Furthermore, there's the question of what to do with myself for three months? Again, the contrast is pretty strong - at university you know exactly what you're doing (going to lectures, dying in the library etc.) but with the three months at home I shape my time as I choose.

Summer 2012, what to do? As a student there's the task of getting the balance of doing some things that, frankly, look good on your CV and enjoying your free time. I think there's quite a good mixture that has been going on, and will continue this summer.

In terms of being a good student, I've got a few things to work on. I have been home for a month now and have been attending lectures at a Senior Executive Programme at London Business School. I am incredibly fortunate to know one of the lectures at the school who gave me the chance of following him for a while. Initially, the artsy student in me was wary and wondered whether Rachel the Art Historian would enjoy or benefit from observing a business course. I was so foolish to worry. The lectures have been so inspiring and intellectually challenging. I went in a blank slate and have come out with a greater understanding of 'the business world', which to be honest is in everything - my eyes were really opened. This enthusiasm has taken me over so completely that the lecturer I was following and I came to the delirious heights of discussing taking a Business MA at the school after my Art History degree. We'll see how things go... Focusing on at least getting an Art History degree is probably not a bad idea for the moment.

Later this summer I am also due to attend a course at The Courtauld for a week. The course focuses on German art from the Romanticists to the Expressionists. I am so excited it's unreal. Just doing my preparation reading has me in a state of euphoria. The first two years of the Art History degree at St Andrews, naturally, provide you with an overview of art from the Renaissance to Contemporary art - I can't wait for the opportunity to study the art of a particular culture, and various styles, more closely. I'm getting all excited and tingly just thinking of Caspar David Friedrich and Emil Nolde.

On a more minor level, there are some other things I'm trying to get on top of this summer that wouldn't really hurt me to do. I am organising returning to help out at Somerset House like I did last summer - the great thing about working for them is that if you have once you're in their system and can work when suits you. On a sadder note, I was prepared to take part in a cheese-making course this summer but that fell through. No homemade cheese for me - a tragic blow to myself and my foodie friends. I'm looking in to possibly taking part in a patisserie course instead - not the same, but I'm sure homemade croissants could never be a bad thing. On top of all of this, I'm retaking my driving test... Ugh. Yes, I'm trying again. After getting back behind the wheel I'm not as anxious and know I can drive - it's just proving to a stranger that I can without getting spooked. We shall see... I will not allow myself to be taking this test forevermore!

On the less intellectual side, I am lucky enough to be carrying out some exciting travelling this summer. In a couple of weeks time I will be spending just under a week in Croatia. I am staying with a couple of Croatian women my family has come to know (and love) through my father's work. They're all wonderful. I met the oldest of these women in my kitchen one morning when I groggily came downstairs for breakfast and was not aware she was in the house - we then spent two hours having the most bizarre but wonderful conversation of my life over a very long breakfast. I'm certain this trip is going to be just as spectacular as our first meeting. Then, later this summer I am travelling to Florence with my family. I went to Florence with the company AHA last summer and fell in love - I have now managed to convince my family that we should all go. I'm already fantasising about all of the art I will be able to see again, the beautiful streets and the food which is nectar from heaven (Italian cooking just makes British people look so incompetent). In Florence there is a bronze statue of a wild boar ('Il Porcellino') very close to Piazza della Signoria and apparently if you rub its snout you will return to Florence in your lifetime (I did this on my AHA trip) - who knew that this wild boar was so efficient? I'm impressed that I'm already back in a year! The final destination for my family this summer will be Portugal just before I return to university (I will seriously have something like four days to get myself together and say good bye to everyone in London before I'm back in St Andrews!) This was a wonderful spur of the moment Prosser decision. Once again, thanks to my father's work, he has a contact over there who suggested that we visit. I am so excited - I have been conscious that I really need to explore more of Europe and gosh what I'm just seeing of Portugal from books, the internet etc. just has my heart fluttering.

All in all, not a bad summer? My little sister has a game we play when we are stressed - we take it in turns to say one thing that we're looking forward to in the future - we spent a good half hour playing this game when thinking of the summer ahead. All of these magnificent experiences on top of catching up with friends and family! So, if the English weather could just get back on track, that would be marvellous.

'Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness' - Martin Luther King Jr.

Altruism. The number of people that must feel murderous when I bring up this subject is insane. I've been debating with one friend for almost two years about whether it exists - I don't see either of us backing down from our views any time soon. Our debate mainly consists of my providing him with what I consider to be examples of altruism. Apparently I haven't provided an example yet. Hmph. I disagree, I think I have.

I think it's pretty sad that I'm in a minority for believing that altruism is real.

I believe in extraordinary human kindness. I don't think every action is self-motivated. That is the main argument against altruism - that every action, is in some way, going to have a positive outcome for the person doing it, which they are inherently motivated by - suggesting that no action is selfless.

For example, a person who carries out a good deed, such as helping an old lady cross the street (don't you think old ladies must get so sick of that?), is not doing so out of the pure goodness of their heart but because they are aware that they will receive the admiration of others. A friend of mine went as far as to suggest that society conditions us to carry out good deeds because the notion of the reward we will receive is deep in our subconscious. We help others because of an underlying understanding that we will be rewarded.

I think I may waver in to sounding like an emotional hippy (a regular occurrence) but I just feel this is so wrong. Yes, looking back over history, even at the present day, man has proved that we are capable of unbelievable cruelty. But, I think this can often make people cynical and overshadow the incredible good we are capable of - I think this good can be selfless.

When I get in to this argument with people I have a primary example that I think is a genuine case of altruism. Yes, I'll accept altruism is not your everyday occurrence but it does happen.

So, my primary example - the bravery and selflessness of Wesley Autry - the New York Subway Hero. Wesley Autry was a fifty year old construction worker and about four years ago he was extraordinarily selfless for a stranger. He was standing on a subway platform with his two young daughters when another man started having a seizure and fell on to the tracks - just as a train was pulling in to the station. There were seventy five other people on the platform and they all froze - inevitably waiting to watch this man die. However, Mr Autry, a man with no greater excuse than anyone else to help this stranger (in fact, a man with a reason not to get involved - he had his two daughters present) jumped down on to the tracks. He placed the man having a seizure in a drainage trench between the tracks and then proceeded to lie on top of him to hold him still. The height of the two men lying on the floor was twenty and a half inches - the train clearance was twenty one inches - they survived by half an inch. Wesley Autry put his life at risk, completely uncertain of whether he would survive, for a complete stranger.

I think this is a pure example of the great kindness man is capable of. Yes, I'm not certain there are many people who would display such bravery, but the world is not entirely void of these people.

Even if you don't believe my hippy rantings, I still think you can just marvel at this example of human compassion. This goes beyond the call of duty. I remember learning about this man in my A Level psychology class and some of my class mates being adamant that they would have done the same. However, I think if we are honest with ourselves many of us would have frozen like the rest of the people on that platform. I think this is why people do not believe in altruism - it is rare - it's not a phenomenon I'm claiming happens all the time - but it is possible.

A further thing I frequently find myself saying to people, not so much as an argument but as an explanation, is that I view altruism like many people view religion - I have faith in it - I do not require constant evidence - I have faith in human goodness - as I have said many times before, I think human beings are extraordinary.

To return to the title of this blog - the words of Martin Luther King Jr. Sometimes I wonder whether the issue with altruism may lie with decision-making. The complete denial of it may be seen as 'letting you off the hook' in regards to selfless behaviour. We can all make the active decision to sacrifice for others. My engagement with this subject has made it something I'm certainly aware of and strive towards. So, whether you believe in it, are sceptical or completely deny it, you can still strive towards an altruistic attitude.

"Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!" - Dr Seuss

This is going to be a shorter post for a change - I say this now, it might get longer as I go on.

I'm home for the summer earlier than most people and have university friends dotted across the globe at the moment. I have a large amount of free time on my hands (I'll expand on how I'm going to use it in another post) but I have spent a lot of it talking to old home friends or my friends across the world. In a lot of my conversations and debates I keep coming to the same, more general conclusion about thought and mankind. 

I believe that mankind is constantly striving for an understanding of human nature (and the world at large), but I am not certain whether this understanding can be achieved. I've mentioned before how complex I think human beings are - can we really break ourselves down to a simple, all-encompassing formula? From the perspective of someone at university, I often focus on the fact that everyone has decided upon different subjects, and I see these subjects as people's different approaches to understanding ourselves. For example, in Art History lectures we're constantly reflecting upon the human condition using a variety of works - from the extremes of Caspar David Friedrich to Mark Rothko. When I took Psychology, we were assessing humans from all angles - developmental, social, neurological. Yes, all of these subjects have different approaches but we are after the same thing - a greater understanding of ourselves. And whilst we're doing this, we are creating our own ideas to get tangled in but at the same time, we are also reflecting upon the ideas of other people - there is a never ending spiral of thought. Since time immemorial, we have been trying to understand ourselves and have a wealth of academic discussion, art, technological development etc. as a result. Yes, many historical figures felt that they had discovered a pure truth and that their theory defied all others - just think of the style of Nietzsche's writing and have a chuckle to yourself. But, I think it can be argued, that no one has found the one answer, theory, equation to cancel all others. If they had we would not be continuing in our endeavours. So, sometimes, it seems to me that we are constantly searching for an understanding, from all angles, but maybe this truth cannot be unearthed in this manner?

I wouldn't see this as a negative thing or cause to give up on our efforts. There is so much personal gain to be made from trying to understand human nature. I just think of the euphoria I felt when I first read the work of T.S. Eliot, or the personal understanding upon standing before the work of Van Gogh. These experiences are not a waste. This is going to sound horrendously nerd-ish, but there are real transcendental moments in academia. Furthermore, perhaps the answer is to change our approach to accessing an understanding of mankind? I still think humans are far too complex to be broken down by an all encompassing theory. However, further insight can be gained by potentially combining the approaches of numerous theories. At university, especially in philosophy classes, I have been so often encouraged to come down on one side of the argument and promote it entirely. I frequently do not do this and get reprimanded. But, I think doesn't that just show some sort of greater understanding? I appreciate that no theory can defy all others - that's why there are conflicting theories. Would it not be more sensible to draw from numerous theories or in proposing a theory admit that there may be other possibilities?

I'm sure the idea I have been proposing is in itself is flawed - sometimes it's much more succinct to just come down on the side of one idea. Furthermore, there are numerous people out there who are convinced that one theory is undeniable, for example ardent Kantian philosophers. Still, this is not a perfect thought and will probably need some tweaking over time - it was just a constant conclusion I needed to express.