We’ve had a conservatory at the back of the house for many years now, but it is only recently that I have discovered it and all of the joys that it offers. Come rain or shine, it offers eternal tranquility and total peace of mind – from the moment you park your posterior on the sofa within it your troubles melt away, if only for five minutes. The last few weeks have seen it become more and more of a place of refuge for me to think more easily and carefully about the state of my life, my ideas or the world, or alternatively just to enjoy a nice cup of tea (or a lager).

I jokingly suggested to Mum the other day that it should be law for those who have room for a conservatory to build one, such was the relaxation it offered. It got me thinking about what I’d use one for outside a house of my own. As the world has become a very sad place recently – I write this in the aftermath of a terror attack in Nice – I’d have to convert mine into a space of creativity, positivity and mindfulness. It’d serve the same purpose as a home studio does to an artist or a musician or an office or study does to an author, and it would only spawn ideas with the potential to make the world a better place in the most respectful ways. I’m not blowing my own trumpet, or saying that the ideas would necessarily be any good in terms of quality, but my intentions would be right and they would never change. In addition, anyone who shared them could use it too. Imagine that – even when it seems like the planet is dark and will never be illuminated again, there would always be another person helping the cause of tolerance, equality and unity.

Call the idea a mere dream if you like, but everyone seems to be aware that we’re waking to news of death and hatred on an ever more regular basis. With every report of a tragedy I grow more desperate for something to be done, and although my impact as one man on a planet of billions may be miniscule, I am feeling an increasingly strong desire to contribute to the fight against these evils. If any of the words in any of these blog posts count as lending a hand, it’ll be a start, and so be it – I’ll have to start sitting in the conservatory even more to compose them, as it is a box where there is only caring thought and calmness, and never any pain. When I’m there, I can at least temporarily sit without a churning stomach.

Mason

 

I may have mentioned before that one of the great joys of writing a blog post, especially using a computer, comes through letting the creative juices flow in perfect harmony with the tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. When I hear that sound – which I obviously don’t when I’m jabbing at the screen of my Kindle – I’m reminded that something is happening, and that I’ve had the confidence to see the idea I might have agonised over for hours, days weeks or even months through to completion. As I write the opening sentences of this post now, my fingers are racing across the keys of a new laptop, bought to bring an end to the “steam-driven” (as I put it in a tweet the other day) experience my previous five year old laptop had given me. At the beginning of its life, it was pretty much untouched and was something of a lifesaver in that it kept me occupied during six weeks in which both legs were plastered due to my hamstring operation. By Monday 4 July 2016, when its replacement was delivered, it had slowed to the speed of an arthritic tortoise and was living on borrowed time anyway seeing as I was consistently being reminded of the rapidly shrinking battery capacity.

I can sleep easy in my bed with this new and shiny addition to the Hawker household. The last post I published, on Monday night, was the first to be written on the new laptop and I hope I can continue to update Third Time Enabled on it for many years to come. Indeed, one of the main points of consideration before purchase revolved around whether it would be fast and efficient enough to do this and other creative things (the ability to play games came a close second). In the time that I have it, I want to add photos, videos and a more vibrant overall atmosphere for the blog, to lend it a proper and noteworthy identity of its own. I will also get back onto Celtx, the scriptwriting software I’ve used for the last few years, to work on some bits and pieces – including the second draft of my film, which I haven’t yet managed to stick to due to the presence of my old foe Writer’s Block. I’d like to think there can be many more possibilities than these to follow.

Yes, you might say it’s only a laptop and wonder why I have these high hopes, but I do view it as an opportunity for a fresh start creatively and for a new leaf to be turned over, so to speak. I no longer have homework dating back to Year 9 cluttering up my computer, and the thought of all that empty space waiting for new creations that are yet to be dreamed up and discovered, all things introspective and imaginative, is very appealing. Who said technology prevented productivity? Certainly not me – I’ll get started as soon as I can stop playing F1 2015…

Mason

The other day I saw a suggestion from WordPress saying that a post in letter form could make for good writing. This was actually something I’d been looking to do for a while, and it explains why I sign each post “Mason”. I like to think that someone can see that and feel like I’ve written to them personally and made a connection to my audience of some sort. Any one reader could feel like I’ve been pouring my thoughts and emotions out to them and nobody else.

In the days leading up to the EU referendum, I accepted a Remain poster from a campaigner on the street near where I work. I took it with me into the office, having come back from my lunch break, and when one of my colleagues saw it they asked “you’ve been flyered, have you?” “Flyered”, as far as I know, isn’t a real word, but I liked it and thought that maybe it should be. It makes me think of an instant burst of information thrust into my hands by someone passionate about it, and with anything I write – in any form – I’d like to think I convey the same kind of enthusiasm. The fact that I am so intrigued by creating a personal connection with each reader and so unfazed about coming clean where emotions are concerned must mean that I would have no qualms about writing a letter here, right?

Wrong. I have found, especially recently, that being so open in that way has caused me more problems than relief. There are many people I’d address such a post to – one of those that I haven’t seen in a while, perhaps, or someone I’d like to make amends with after a period of separation. I think the latter is what I want to write the most, but I’m well aware of the dangers. I think of myself as a very sensitive guy, and am quite simply worried that I will be too sincere and too heartfelt (not in a nasty way, but a soppy one) to make my letter effective. Maybe I would scare this person if I was too forward – I might inadvertently end up “flyering” them! The key, if I ever were to do this, would therefore be to think very carefully about the words used – something I think every blog post helps me with. If I turned each of them into speeches and spoke them in front of an audience, I’d quite simply never get anything out. They’d all be a total muddle!

Mason

Hey guys, Will here for another guest post. This article has a much sadder tone than the last one. As many people know, this month has been a plethora of horror. 49 dead in Orlando, the shooting of Jo Cox, and now a bomber in Istanbul. Sadly, with the rate that these chaotic events are happening, we don’t have much time to process what happened. What we lost. It took me a while to figure out how to write this post, because I was so stunned I didn’t know what to write. Okay, here goes…

The day before the Pulse shootings in Orlando, there was another tragedy. Christina Grimmie, a Youtube sensation and Voice contestant, was shot dead at her own concert in the same city. I’ve been a fan of her for a long time, around 4 years. When I first saw the hashtags and the tributes that night, I was stunned. I kept thinking that it was a hoax, some truly awful person trying to scaremonger. But slowly, we were given more information. She was at a meet and greet, signing autographs for friends, when she was shot. Her brother tackled the shooter to the ground, who then shot himself. And as soon as we were beginning to adapt and comprehend this loss, another nutjob opened fire in the Pulse nightclub. So the news about Christina was moved to the side for the week. I feel like more people need to know about who she was.

She was just 22. Christina was just at the point of her career where she was about to blow up in popularity. She’d become big on Youtube, and was one of the first that I knew of.  And from the videos I watched, she was a kind, happy, positive person. She was ridiculously talented. She was killed doing what she loved, and surrounded by people who loved her. That’s the sad thing about this. She felt safe there, she was the star there. And someone snuffed that star out. The same with the others lost in Orlando. They were surrounded by their peers, in a place where they thought the worst thing that could happen was drinking too much. Now people can’t feel safe in these places, because they think that a madman with a god complex may attack.

I am not saying that one of these events is more important than the other. Any life cut short is monumentally tragic. We have lost people this month that were going to do so much more with their lives, and that drives me close to tears. And there are those that to turn these people into political statements. These names are not yours to drag through the mud or put on a poster in order to demonise someone else.

Human beings are capable of great acts of evil. But don’t forget that we are also capable of great acts of love and kindness. That’s what Christina strived to achieve.  That’s what Jo strived to achieve. Keep all of these people in your mind. Do not forget their names. And stay safe.

P.S. Check out the video below.  It’s a tribute to Christina: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GNAbALe4y0

Will

That’s the rate at which I judge the last three years to have gone. In an attempt to distract myself from the post-Brexit anger and misery I’ve been feeling, I’ve been thinking about my Year 11 prom, which I’m informed was three years ago today. Some of my thoughts about that night, running up to the point where Will arrived at my house (since neither of us had a date), are collected in one of my notebooks. At first, and for a long time, I was adamant I wasn’t going to go. I think I was convinced that in order to do the whole prom thing properly, I had to have a real date – but I knew that I certainly wasn’t going to have one. The one girl I wanted to ask would probably have politely declined (she’s nice like that), and it wasn’t exactly like anyone else was going to queue up to go with me. I also believed that I would be expected to dance, and – as a disabled person – let me tell you that if I can’t physically do it, there’s no point in me trying at all! I relegated myself to minor arm movements at my table in the end, and once the night had gotten underway I discovered that all of my fears had been completely unfounded. I went from being completely reluctant to go to believing that I’d had one of the best nights in recent memory.

Will and I arrived at Butlins, where the prom was being held that year, in the back of my uncle’s Audi, which Dad had borrowed for the occasion. With everyone else, we watched the rest of the arrivals roll in, using vehicles ranging from a double-decker bus to a tractor (which actually came through a few times before stopping, I seem to remember). When we went inside, proceedings officially began – there was music to be sung and danced to, mocktails to be consumed and a prom spread to be eaten. Where the latter was concerned, I remember reacting with horror upon realising I wouldn’t be able to access the food all that easily. “Some bastard’s put steps up to the food!” I exclaimed to Will at the top of my lungs over the music. I went the entire night without a single bite, which to my knowledge is the only time I’ve ever willingly done that – and certainly the only time I ever will! One thing I was told I had to spend the night with, on the other hand, was the security guard whose job was to escort me to the loo for reasons of safety. I was embarrassed about having to be followed around whenever I needed to do my business, so eventually I successfully gave the guard the slip and never saw them again. After all, it was my business and nobody else’s!

I was also slightly embarrassed when I was named that year’s Prom King, as I have always felt uncomfortable being the centre of attention. The awkwardness of the situation, in which my name was called out in front of everyone so that I could go up and collect my plastic crown, was compounded by the fact that I managed to crash into a chair and get stuck on the way across the room. Eventually, the prize had been given and the photos had been taken, and everything got back to normal. I was left feeling that my friend Hamish was much more deserving of Prom King, in his colourful top hat and cane attire. To this day, I think he was robbed – by me!

It might now seem like I’m predominantly moaning, but I really did have a brilliant time that night – with good friends, bangin’ tunes and nice drinks, what more do you need? For me, it seemed complete, but there was something else I noticed. Everyone there, whether they were friends, acquaintances or people who had never spoken before, were getting on as though they knew each other inside out. They were shaking hands, embracing and laughing together as young adults heading into the next stages of their lives post-16. It was a kind of respect I saw carried into the Sixth Form, and something that was a defining element of prom for me, along with the music, the drinks, the banter and the temporary deafness and muteness Will and I were left with at the end of the night!

Mason

Today, I added a Follow button onto this blog (which you can only see if you’re reading it on a computer, rather than a phone or tablet). As its name suggests, other WordPress users can click it if they want to follow the blog and be the first to see a new post when I upload one. Of course, I know and have been told that people both read and enjoy the posts here, meaning that I also know I have an audience, and one that I really enjoy writing for. I once told a friend that, having tried to keep a more conventional notebook diary before, I much prefer being aware that there are other people around to read what I write, who can respond to it in whatever way comes naturally. You either like something or you don’t, so it keeps things interesting not knowing what the reaction to something will be.

However, I can’t be blind to the fact that – as I’m sure I’ve said before – the creative juices occasionally stop flowing. Therefore, the Follow button becomes the titular Frenemy, as next to it you will find a number indicating how many followers the blog has. As I write this, there are 2 followers, Will and Louis (although, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Will is the only one who reads this, so I effectively have only one). I suspect no blogger would deny wanting as many people as possible to see their writing, so I think that whenever I see that button, in the corner of my eye, it will stir me to make use of the slightest idea or the biggest emotions even when I may doubt them. It will be a motivator – but it will also taunt me, and quietly remind me that every day without material could lose me a reader. I sincerely hope that it has the intended, positive, effect, and that it proves to be a valuable addition to the blog.

Before I sign off, I’d just like to remind you that if there are any questions, compliments or complaints you may have regarding these posts, or any suggestions you would like to make, you can email me at thirdtimeenabled@gmail.com. There are posts carrying this address on my Facebook (Mason Hawker) and Twitter accounts (@HawkerMason) and, if you do decide to use it, I will do my very best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Mason

The recent tragic massacre in Orlando, as well as the hatred and persecution that continues to be directed towards people based on grounds such as their gender, race, religion or sexual orientation, has left myself and the rest of the world utterly heartbroken. The reaction to events such as the Orlando shootings from the idiots in the world will often set out to demonise entire groups, when only one or very few members is actually responsible for it. This happens time and time again, coming from a dark and dingy corner of the media, the Internet or the political world, and each time nobody who generalises in this manner learns their lesson. Respect itself is being disrespected because people disregard it, and I have long had enough. Whilst I am stating the obvious, there should be no room for bigoted, ignorant, cold-hearted and intolerant arseholes anywhere on the face of this planet. The fact that tragedies continuously reveal the existence of such people stirs a pain within me that is more saddening by the day.

I recently read a post on Emily’s blog in which her focus was mainly on feminism, a very important topic. It was a very well-written and well-researched post, and by this stage I’d already decided to write a post of my own concerning equality. I had trouble finishing it and knowing exactly how to get my points across, however, and it is terrible that it took something as devastating as the Orlando murders to give me the angle I was searching for. It’s also unfortunate that I could not produce as well-researched a case as Emily did, but perhaps it is best for me to let my purest emotions do the talking. As a disabled person, my life has progressed a little differently thus far than those of my peers. I had to do things differently because of my limitations, and they would take time, delay me, and drive me to compromises that did not always allow me to engage in the same experiences as everyone else – and yet every single person I’ve ever encountered has treated me with nothing other than total acceptance and equality (the titular “Big E”). I’ve never ever forgotten this, not even for a single second, and I am always grateful for it. It partly explains why I am left-wing – everyone treats me as an equal, and I quite simply want this for everybody else in the world with no exceptions. Why is this such a big ask for some people? Why are they more inclined to incite hatred or live with blood on their hands than see smiles on faces and a world living in perfect harmony? This kind of psychology is one that should never have graced any part of the world, and to make matters worse we now see people in positions of influence who are looking only to fuel this most undesirable fire – figures such as Nigel Farage on this side of the pond, and Donald Trump on the other. The possibility of either of these men, or people like them, gaining any kind of power is more chilling than any nightmare, and if either event was to become reality it would threaten to cast an even darker shadow over many lives from many nations and backgrounds the world over, including mine. We must therefore do whatever we can to stand together against hatred however it may manifest itself, and alongside whoever it affects. We must submit to love, respect and equality and never to hate or evil.

#LoveIsLove

Mason

Recently, when I’ve been out and about, and particularly around adults, I have overheard more and more examples of an exchange that usually goes a little bit like this:

“How was your weekend? Did you have a good birthday?”

“Well, it was OK, but you don’t really want them when you get to my age.”

It’s a very random conversation to notice, I know, but every instance of this happening is gradually uncovering a new trend, which I don’t like much. This trend, quite simply, is negativity towards birthdays. Every human being has one, and whilst each of us may share it with millions of other people around the world, we should still treat it within our own families and friendship groups as something unique to us. Instead of moaning about growing older, we should have days out or a meal with the people we love the most. Even if an individual’s outlook on life was largely an unhappy one, perhaps that special day could give them something to look forward to, as it does for so many others. We should use birthdays to bestow extra sprinkles of love upon those who are most special to us, so that cherished memories can be created year after year.

It might seem as though I’m suggesting that life’s dark clouds can be driven away by a single day – I know, of course, that this is not true at all. I merely wonder how that special, annual day, where someone can be the centre of attention for 24 straight hours, might be able to lift their mood when they really need it – or equally if they don’t. I am aware that the majority of people do take great pleasure from their birthdays, but just imagine if the remainder felt a bit better about them. There’d be nothing wrong with extra happiness in the world, would there? Every last smile is precious, and we should do everything we can to preserve them, whether these actions are big or small – and that includes making birthdays worth everyone’s while.

Mason

Yesterday, my poll card for the EU referendum came in the post (I’ll be voting to stay in). Immediately prior to this, I’d momentarily panicked over the thought that I hadn’t registered to vote yet, only to quickly remember that I’d already done so during all that spare time I had before Christmas. I have to say that I was massively relieved, since the chance to properly declare my views and make a difference with my vote is incredibly important to me – as it should be to everyone. Now that I’m 18, I can say here and now that I will eagerly take every opportunity to vote for the rest of my life.

I remember someone telling me after the General Election last year that they didn’t vote because they didn’t feel that any of it had any relevance to their life whatsoever. With the greatest of respect to them, they were – of course – wrong. It should go without saying that political decisions affect everyone, young and old, regardless of your situation in life – so it’s therefore quite literally impossible for it to be irrelevant! We should all take an interest, because our futures all depend on these things. And if you don’t do this, and in turn do not vote, you have very little right to moan when something doesn’t suit you!

As Emily pointed out in her post, none of us should be afraid to do our own research. Voting in the same way as your family or anybody close to you is something I have never understood. The rest of my family is largely Conservative, but I am left-wing and proudly so – my own personal experiences have taught me that I want everything the Left offers for the world and the people in it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. When it comes to politics, take note of your own life – nobody else’s – and listen to your heart, and therein you will find the viewpoint you are looking for. Once you have it, go and make a difference whenever you can, because your time is now, whoever you are.

Before I go, I want to thank Will and Emily for their brilliant posts, and I hope you all enjoyed their brief hijacking (or “blogjacking”) during my bout of writer’s block! It’s great to see that this blog can prosper as a group project, and I’d like to do whatever I can to make sure many more excellent writers can contribute in future – and to make sure we get Will and Emily back again!

Mason