Content: are we ever?

The threads of thoughts, feelings, needs and wants that weave themselves into everyday life are so fine. You choose certain colours and materials, if you will, that seem paramount to the tapestry of your happiness and self-worth. The vibrant must-have outfits, glittering latest iPhone, the rare attention of a disinterested other and the sturdy fabric of an impressive career are just some of the ingredients that, on paper, make the cake that we call ‘contentment’.

Unless you can honestly claim to be devoid of any longing to be accepted or admired by others (if so, bravo), the majority of us crave the green-light, the go-ahead and ratification from those around us. We can spend months, years, even decades searching for approval. Be it adhering to the expectations of loving parents, attempting to consolidate past accomplishments or desperately trying to keep up with the ever-developing trends and tastes of the modern world: the list of opinions to consider is endless. In my experience, no matter what you do, it can often feel like you’re missing the mark. Choosing one path can often cancel out another one – leading to incomplete aspirations and inevitably back-tracking on past promises.

Having been lucky enough to have been born into a family that cares for me and to have met friends who have supported me, my existence so far has, on paper, been plush. If anything, the amount of love I’ve always had has been overwhelming. Overwhelmingly wonderful. Despite this however, my pursuit for contentment is yet to come full circle. As someone who has always been uber sensitive about growing older, my 24^th birthday has brought with it a cloudy sense of self. My parents were married with a career by the time they were my age: I am single (sense the bitterness) and currently in search of a career. The difference is stark (no sign of Rob Stark, regrettably). When I was a little girl, I definitely didn’t picture the life I have now in my crystal ball of prediction – think zoo keeper with a Leonardo DiCaprio lookalike in the mix. My roaring twenties certainly haven’t been devoid of glittering parties and the occasional sequin dress, but Gatsby and his millions are yet to make an appearance.

It’s hard to pin-point what components you need to make a nest a happy one. Birds need twigs, mud, feathers and leaves. You may be a bird with plenty of plumage … but sometimes self-doubt can make you feel featherless. Cold, uncomfortable and unable to fly. I am in the process of realising that the wind under your wings doesn’t have to blow at the same speed as everyone else. You may not have it all mapped out in your tender twenties, but what you will have is the opportunity to do whatever you like. If you have nothing in place yet, that only leaves more room to build whatever life you like. In the end, your own self-belief and self-approval is limitless in its value. Try not to let what seems like disapproval from those around you, a dwindling bank account or a seemingly blank CV steer you away from feeling like a boss. Be the boss of your own business.

Rhi x

My first encounter with the world of PR

Though this piece claims that my placement at Approach has been my ‘first encounter’ with public relations, I must stress that it was not the first I’d heard of the profession. I first became familiar with it when watching Jennifer Saunders on Absolutely Fabulous. It was the humorous tone of Edina Monsoon, with her impossibly extravagant manner and her admirable attitude towards life, that first alerted me to the foggy world of PR.

Saffy: ‘I’m sorry Mum, but I’ve never seen what you actually do’

Eddy: ‘PR!’

Saffy: ‘Yes, but…’

Eddy: ‘PR! I PR things! People. Places. Concepts.’

I found myself laughing at a line of work that I had *absolutely* no knowledge of – a problem that is, according to Saffy in the quotation above, one that is widely shared across the working world. What does it ‘actually’ mean to do ‘PR things’? Well, my time at Approach PR has given me a glimpse of just that.

Firstly, their close-attention and appreciation of the modern realm of social media is something that has had a significant imprint on my business acumen. All I have ever known of social media has been the self-indulgent scroll down Instagram on an event-less evening or the substance-less tweets of reality television stars and beauty bloggers. If anything, I have always seen social media as a platform for vulnerability and self-confidence issues.

However, I have been pleasantly surprised by the way Approach, and other PR companies alike, use social media to spread their word. By utilising sites like Instagram, Twitter and Facebook, Approach share stories that may not have otherwise reached certain demographics and in turn cover a larger audience. Never underestimate the power of the hashtag or the lure of the Instagram location. It’s all clickbait – an opportunity for business!

The close-knit team here source the materials for a promising story, search for an interesting angle or selling point, and then peddle the blueprint towards surrounding journalists and broadcasters. In one week alone, I have had the chance to attend several photoshoots, complete social media planners, analyse video content, conduct media sell-ins over the telephone and much more. Though this may seem to be simple, Approach has demonstrated to me the precision, persistence and social awareness that is paramount to succeeding in this line of work. Whether it be skilfully selecting the relevant information for a piece or eagerly waiting on responses from journalists – the PR account executives across the globe go above and beyond to transform what can sometimes be placid information into compelling stories. You could say they are the fairy godmothers of the media industry – making the arguably mundane media, magical.

Despite arriving as a complete stranger to the PR universe, I am pleased to say that my time at Approach has left me feeling like a welcomed guest in an environment I’d love to learn more about. It has offered me a first-hand account of what life as a PR executive involves – and it is so much more than Edina’s trimmed down explanation of ‘people, places, concepts.’ I look forward to unearthing more about public relations – a profession that need no longer be misunderstood by the masses but appreciated as a valuable, and vital, vocation.

Rhi x

This blog post was written as a work experience project and is featured on the website for Approach PR Ilkley: https://www.approachpr.com/my-first-encounter-with-the-world-of-pr/

Ditch the Dressing Gown

Let’s start by clarifying that despite the title of this post, I have been a big, if not the *biggest*, advocate for the humble dressing gown. Though simple in design, it has been known in my household to medicate all matter of ills: colds, hangovers, heartbreaks – you name it, DG has seen it. Completed it mate. For anyone who has spent an extended amount of time with me (bravo), you will know that I usually spend at least 60% of my existence in my dressing gown. Throughout university, my housemates would comment that I was forever shuffling from one room to the next in a baby pink fluffy robe. In the last year however, I have upgraded to this plush number:

There’s definitely a hint of Count Olaf, the notorious villain in A Series of Unfortunate Events, to this piece. I’ve always been emotionally invested in Jim Carrey’s 2004 performance and therefore feel particularly evil and masterful walking slowly down my staircase in this – even in my bloody pyjamas. It’s got an edge. Completely ridiculous, I know.

Anyhow, I’ve steered away from the point. That point being that I have found my dressing gown to be, hysterically, a rather dangerous coping mechanism for the endless emotional trials of adulthood. I cannot put my finger on as to why I wrap myself in my dressing gown every time I feel particularly drudged down or unsatisfied with the day’s proceedings – but I can tell you that it has always been the first thing I want to do when I get through the door. How SAD, the crowd jeers. Honestly, it has always appealed to me as a fluffy comfort blanket that won’t judge me for my long-list of horrendous decisions made the night before, or a quietly quilted embrace when I need it most. However, along with it brought a very lazy attitude. It seemed to be all I wore when at home, and I started to fear that I was in sloth-transition. There was a lot of negative energy surrounding my poor, defenceless dressing gown and with it a state of being I needed to shake. SO, I made the decision last week that the dressing gown will be… no more. Sure, I’ll still use it in the winter evenings when I want to feel warm and fuzzy, or on the brisk walk from shower to bedroom: it can’t be completely discounted. But as for it being a strict uniform for every day off – hundreds of which I have wasted thus far – it is not.

It’s remarkable how much good getting up and putting on actual clothes can do. I know this is something that normal, successful people do without hesitation, but you’d be surprised at how many people live in the same sad, squishy existence I did. Actually dressing in *real* clothes and preparing yourself for the day can ignite a fire in you that you may have thought went out a long time ago. Mentally, it powers my brain into productivity. It sounds trivial, but the dressing gown instantly made me feel like a failure. Since getting up and wearing the clothes I feel good in, I’ve applied for a number of jobs and courses, and have made productive changes to my daily routine. This website being one of them. Even if you’re working from home where no one will see you, remember that you will see you. Dust yourself off. Glean back that vital sense of self-worth that may have been led astray by the allure of loungewear. Even within closed doors where there’s no one else to impress – ditch the dressing gown to impress yourself.

Rhi x

There’s a first time for everything

Firstly, if you are reading this then prepare to be seriously impressed. You are about to embark on a truly unique reading experience – one that will see your mind journeying through time and space and your emotional capacity tested unlike ever before. Of course, I’m kidding. Nothing I write will ever warrant such a reaction. If all this will ever be is an outlet for my somewhat clamped emotions then so be it. This is the first blog post I’ve ever attempted, so do forgive its clumsiness. Though I love to read and write, I cannot confidently say whether I am any good at it.

Having always toyed with the idea of starting a blog, I have often found myself asking: where do I begin? What interesting things can I say to glamorise my current situation and make it readable? That situation being living at home at 23 with no job prospects or commitments of any kind. Quarter-life crisis a go-go. Some have said that I should embrace this time as a blank whiteboard of opportunity, one that is waiting to be doodled on until drenched in ink. However, being the pessimist I am, I have let this limbo-land existence drag me down to depths I didn’t think existed. Since graduating, I have lost a lot of the things that made me who I was. As self-pitying as it sounds, my confidence has certainly been knocked down a peg or two since leaving the safe haven of education. So, whether it be good content or not, I have always found writing to be a form of escapism and have decided to use it as tool to remind myself why I loved studying English, reading books and writing essays. Here goes. If I’m going to moan about my state of affairs to people in person, then why not bore defenceless internet surfers through the written word about it too? It’s only fair.

So, sliding the depressing stuff to one side, I shall mostly be writing about things that make me feel something: subjects that stir something in me. What that ‘something’ may be, is unclear. My collection of millennial musings may range from memorable stories from my travels across foreign lands to general commentaries on pressing world issues. When I say ‘issues’, please understand that this could vary from my insistence that the Harry Potter books deserve biblical status, to the consistency of my morning Weetabix. But if you’re into that oddly satisfying everyday drivel then, by all means, read on.

P.S. if you are reading this, I love you. Not in the same way Gerard Butler loves Hilary Swank, but you get my drift.

Rhi x

Both the images included are my own: the first is a still from my kitchen table and the second is a shot from a day out in York last autumn.