Welcome

Welcome to JFS School's official Blog. This is our third year of the blog and represents a chance for our new team of intrepid student journalists to write what's on their minds. The Autumn term’s blog theme focuses on “Inspiration” - so stay tuned for some fantastic creative writing.


Thursday 17 December 2015

INSPIRATION: 'I Wait'

I lie, inert in my cocoon, unable to focus
My insignificant mind, an empty cavernous space yawns longingly,
I wait…

Heaviness envelopes me,
Tying me down to my incommodious sanctuary
The air’s humidity strangles my leaden lungs,
I wait, in anticipation…

Insect-like legs tickle my brain
An irritation I cannot quite scratch
I still wait…

A gnawing frustration waits to be quelled
The unsatisfying lull continues and still,
Nothingness…

An awakening prickle on my wing
An irresistible dryness in my throat
Battalions marching through my chest.

Potential trapped behind my eyes
The innocuous spark ignites my brain.

From the chrysalis my idea has emerged as
I conquer my deep dissatisfaction,
I am inspired.


I wait no longer.

INSPIRATION: Science Enthusiast

Science is my favourite subject and it has been for more than half my life.
My job aspiration is to be a physicist/x-ray crystallographer.
Having watched my sister study for her science A-levels, I have constantly been around an advanced scientific environment. This has encouraged my enthusiasm for science.
But when did I learn to like science?

My first recollection of interest in science was when I was 5, (Although my mum says that I asked her why doesn't the moon fall down when I was 3) I was watching a programme about Isaac Newton and how he discovered gravity (at this point I didn't even know what gravity was) I became interested and learnt how earth creates gravity and that it is relative to an object’s mass. Soon afterwards I learnt of Einstein and relativity. Looking back it seems like easy stuff but at the time it was way ahead of the curriculum. But it wasn't until the age of ten that I really became inspired. My best friend, outside of school, was talking about quantum physics. I was really interested and researched the topic at home. I learnt of a scientist called Neils Bohr.
He came up with the Copenhagen interpretation. However Einstein disagreed with Bohr and after 31 years of cold hard rivalry John Stuart Bell resolved the problem with his genius test which disproved Einstein! Neils Bohr is inspiring because of his bravery in standing up against an iconic figure like Einstein and sticking to his view despite the hatred from the public who stated, “G-d does not play dice with the universe.”

Another inspiration for me is Nicolas Tesla.

It is not very well known that he invented:
. An alternating current.
. Fluorescent bulbs.
. X rays (crucial for x ray crystallography.)
. The radio.
. The remote control.
. The electric motor.
. Robotics.
. Lasers.
. Wireless communication.  
. Limitless free energy.


You may be thinking ‘what about Thomas Edison’. Well in actual fact Edison was a businessman and he stole Tesla’s ideas and then made money from them. When Tesla found out he quoted ‘I don’t care that they stole my idea… I care that they don’t have any of their own.” You may now be saying, “but how come we don’t have unlimited energy?” Well, imagine the amount of money that is made every year by electricity companies who generate and sell energy. Because of this many hit men were actually sent out to kill him so that they could still make money! Many of his workings are now classified but there is now a tesla car that generates energy as it drives! Nicolas Tesla is inspiring because of his ingenuity and advanced thinking for his time.  

INSPIRATION: The Badge

Fresh new start, new premises to explore,
Building up since year 7, its part of my core.
From committee to committee, I have done it all,
I will reign in the votes; they will beckon at my call.

As I sit every term, listening to their speech,
I wish I was up their spreading my preach.
Deputy or Head I really don’t mind,
My name on that badge is the one you shall find.

In my head I have it all planned,
As Mr Miller calls my name, and shakes me by the hand.
I'll be very strict but also accepting,
And look back at my time at JFS, I will be reflecting.

I'll wear the badge every day with pride,
No more worrying for me, it will be an easy ride,
Oh how lucky those 6 are,
One day that will be me, and ill be the star.

My campaign could defeat Cameron or Clegg,
But its such a long process, each and every leg.
Like a kid on candy, it gives me a rush,
To know I'll be in charge and have the last hush.

If it wasn’t for Miss Patel I don’t know where I'd be,
Put me forward, given me chances, the hope she has given me.
All this work adds up, that’s for sure,
Everyone knows I want it; it’s like a newfound law.

I will fight for this role, at any point I get,
I was born for this job I can sure no regret.
My Assurance and confidence may strike to annoy,
But I can tell you now I will be the next Head Boy.

INSPIRATION: 'Where is the Love'

Inspiration-a word I previously found difficult to associate with anything in my relatively short-uneventful life span. Although I fully comprehend that individuals such as Gandhi or Martin Luther King have almost single-handedly changed the world for the better and thus become inspiring to people of all races and religions all over the world, their lack of affiliation with myself means that I obtain almost a sense of guilt knowing that I can’t write about how they have inspired me. Instead for this task, I have chosen something more abstract and unique that I believe has inspired me-the 2003 worldwide hit ‘Where is the love?’.  Although, the Black Eyed Peas solely released this record to try and be a force in the weekly charts, it has lyrics which are deeply relevant to today’s criminal world as well as to myself.

The song is simply genius. It has the ability to, not only show listeners the issues the world is facing today, but also to , inspire and motivate you to make a difference. In the first verse of this track, Will.i.am says how he thinks the “whole world is addicted to the drama, only attracted to things that’ll bring you trauma”, these lines got me deeply thinking and helped me realise that the news we see on our televisions, in the newspapers and magazines is always negative and continually has the intention to cause drama or hurt to one/a group of people. This idea is fortified when later on in the song, when there are the lines “Wrong information always shown by the media , Negative images is the main criteria, Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria.” Therefore ,despite not implicitly saying this, I believe Will.i.am is trying to encourage us in this instance to try and look for the good things in the world, rather than always the negatives, and this mind-set will eventually bring positive outcomes.

Furthermore, another phrase in the song that really hooked my attention is when , on line 10 , it is said “If you have only love for your own race, then you only leave space to discriminate, and to discriminate only generates hate”. The reason that, I took full notice of this expression is because nowadays we constantly see examples of bullying, discrimination and racism, and the reason this is the case is because people are completely unwilling to accept the unknown. This behaviour is a disgrace and should never be accepted in society or anywhere for that matter. However, this song motivates you to make a difference and to stand up to these people who, through their own naivety, are causing unfathomable problems for countless others.

In addition, the chorus of this anthem repeats the remark “Where is the love?”. The pure simplicity of this question forces you to question everything about the world today. Is there any happiness? Are people always looking for people to fail? Is the media always trying to cause hurt to others? This phrase  , ultimately convinces you that at this moment is time there is very little “love “ in the world and that this has to change urgently otherwise the world will be held hostage by “discrimination” , ”hate” and “terrorism”. Therefore, the chorus in itself is inspiring, as it goes to the heart of the problems in today’s world and subtlety encourages you to make a change or otherwise the consequences will be traumatic.


In conclusion , I believe that the tune “Where is the love?” has inspired me throughout my life, as it has told me to not always go by the norms of society and to question if you think that something is completely wrong in spite of what other people believe. Additionally, this song has inspired me as it has showed me to look for the positives in life rather than always thinking that the ‘so-called glass is half empty’; as this positive outlook on life will be imitated by others and can eventually lead to a happier world that we live in.

INSPIRATION: A Sonnet

It’s a crazy thing, inspiration
To be inspired out of desire   
Requires great dedication.

It’s a weird thing, inspiration
To have great ideas
Is now an every day expectation.

Yet inspiration can’t be forced,
And if you are given the gift of it,
It can’t be ignored

Because it is a reward, present,
One more chance
To make life on Earth more pleasant.


INSPIRATION: 'His Kanye Best'

When queried about your inspiration
One’s mind might drift to the best of us, there
Is someone whom I feel deserves this
Title, not that there was ever any
Doubt, dubiousness, or indecision.
One man, a Prodigy. His name you ask?
Kanye West. Yes. Simply magnificent.

For sure he is the Kanye Best of us
And if only I could be like him
That would be my life’s greatest reward.
Kanye West, the Kanye Best, the only
Man that I will ever look up to in
Such respect, and with admiration,

Kanye Omari West. My happiness.

INSPIRATION: In Quotes

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that” - Martin Luther King Jr.

This quote was from Martin Luther King’s book, written in 1957. If you ask most people what that they know about King, they will mention his famous “I have a dream” speech from 1963. This was the point in his life in which he was most known, he presented his speech on the March of Washington but he wasn’t the only one to talk that day. He was just the most significant. Undoubtedly, he was an inspiring man with a set of moral values which helped him in his successes but he wasn’t born famous. He grew up in similar conditions to many black Americans around the time of his birth but not all of them are still talked about today. What is so unorthodox about King that led for him to become such a role model that people wanted to assassinate him because he was so effective? His attitude.

“Forgiveness is not an occasional act, it is a permanent attitude”

In a world surrounded by unfairness it is easy to be aggravated. It is not, however, easy to do something constructive with this aggravation. A sign of a leader is adhering to your views, whether others agree or not and this involves moral values that are fixed within yourself- beliefs that cannot be changed. One factor in the success of King was his attitude- he knew that he was in the right and kept a positive attitude to be his inspiration through life. The difference between him and any average person was being inspired by his goal of equality and letting nothing get in his way. It is so easy in life to be distracted and to divert to another path because something seems appealing in the short term but having a long term goal set in stone, was his means for success. His attitude sets him apart from us. Generally, people don’t realise how easy it is to alter an attitude and decide that every experience is a positive thing as we learn from mistakes. The one major thing that we can learn from him is to keep a positive attitude to everything we do and that is how we can succeed.

“The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people”

All the way through his life, King preached against violence. We can now see why. Violence was the end of him. He was killed in a cowardly way by someone who realised there were no words left to say that could disagree with King’s attitude. It was so relentless, that the only way of silencing it was silencing him. His killer was stupid. It was too late to stop the preach of his frame of mind, it had spread too far. They tried to put out his light but King had passed his flame to so many people, touched so many hearts, that he would never be silenced. He may have been killed, but he would have died one day, as everybody does. His life may have been cut short but it’s better to live for just 40 years doing what he did than 100 years of a life of an individual touching nobody- King lives on through his values which have arguably transformed America. He should live on and you have the ability to let him. How? By not staying silent when wrong is being done, you are sending on his message, not just helping people but replacing the darkness with light.



INSPIRATION: The Philosophy

What is inspiration? The word comes from the Latin ‘to breathe in.’ I’m taking that to mean breathing in one’s surroundings to get something from it. The question remains: What are we taking, where are we taking it from, why can we take it from there and why does it make us do things?
I’d like to start by saying I have no idea. I’ve read around and had some thoughts on the subject but I’m not writing to educate people on what inspires me: that does not matter.

Inspiration causes people to do amazing things. It could be argued that it is the thing that has driven all of human history from the fire and the wheel to the symphony and the Space Station. It gives people ideas and passion that fester and grow inside people until it becomes impossible for it to not manifest itself somehow into the world. Inspiration is found in the glimmer on the needle’s end, on the broad-back of a sparrow’s wing, on the reflection in the mirror-like pond and in the face of a loved one. It literally can be found anywhere, so does that mean that we made it up, beauty in the eye of the beholder and all that? Not necessarily. This idea comes from the notion started by Descartes and Kant: That the world is subjective. Art and beauty specifically is subjective. It should be noted that they are among the first to think this idea that has become so common-place today. My opinion that Beethoven’s 5th is better than Justin Bieber’s new single is both pompous and silly as all art always is equal regardless of content. Needless to say, I disagree with this very much.

Plato described the idea of a world of Forms where everything in this world is just an imperfect copy of the epitome of that thing in another world that makes us know what it should look like. For example a chair is a chair because we know it looks like the Perfect Chair of which we have a sort of ancestral memory of. Something is beautiful because is somewhat resembles the Form of beauty. Now what of inspiration? Does it take it shape from a Perfect Inspiration or is it merely the expression of the feeling of great beauty?

The 18th century poet, William Blake, had his own philosophy on the matter: He described what he called the Poetic Inspiration. Blake reasoned that if mankind was biological, he was destined to repeat himself endlessly generation to generation, and is somewhat seen throughout history. The important thing to note is that it doesn’t. New art, music and literature is created, new ideas are had. But why? He reasoned that as a biological creature, there must be some kind of Poetic/Divine Inspiration that caused new ideas to be had in people. I think there might be something in it.

The alternative perspective is that inspiration is made-up to describe the biological processes in the brain that happen when we see something we find interesting. This changes person to person because of the make-up of the brain. I think there’s something that causes that to happen. I see no reason why this can’t be the mechanism for this to happen, but I’d like to think there is more than just chemicals driving the magic of history.

From a Jewish perspective, we believe that all things come from Hashem. All insight, wisdom and beauty comes from Him. To me, this seems very similar if not the same to what Blake described as the Divine Inspiration.  At the end of the day, does it really matter? It works, so let it.

Now, whether you believe in Forms, or a Kantian view of the world, is up to you, the reader. You don’t have to believe anything about this as after all as Aristotle described: “It takes an intelligent mind to entertain an idea without fully accepting it.”  This has been a very brief look at the philosophy of aesthetics and in particular, inspiration.

INSPIRATION: A Short Story

She stood outside his room, listening intently to the sounds coming from the inside. There was a distinct clicking and a muted noise from the video he was probably watching. She was thinking about opening the door before he could hide his phone or whatever technology he was using. That’s all they talked about on the news. Kids using their phones too much, it damaged their eyesight and stops them from sleeping. She had heard from her friends that they use the same technology as in an oven. Her best friend had said it cooks their brain cells and makes them stupid, but her son wasn’t stupid, he was quite clever she thought. Successful at school, good grades, good reports and he was very stable.
James was in his room, on his phone. He knew he probably shouldn’t be and he could hear his mom’s breathing outside the door a slow intake of air then quickly let out. He could tell her apart just from that. He didn’t really like his mom, he thought she lacked understanding of the world and he couldn’t speak to her of the things he liked because she was always on her phone and not really listening, so they didn’t talk much, just the occasional, ‘how was your day?’ James would love to talk about quantum mechanics or the crazy theories he had read about but no one cared about what he had to say. He just watched his videos and hoped that one day he would understand the world at a molecular level. His passion was life. He wanted to be a doctor so he could save lives. No one understood that, no one understood him. Not even his friends. He wasn’t a very good speaker but was good at listening and a good friend, he didn’t have a best friend, and no one he trusted with his deepest secrets and could speak to in complete understanding. He dreamed of escape, to live in a world where he was understood and the people around him were clever and liked him. James wasn’t very popular at school, he was a bit of a daydreamer. His friends thought he was dreaming about girls, that’s what he said it was but in reality he was thinking about solutions to global peace and cures to terminal illnesses and how he would achieve them in the future. But for now he was stuck in his room, watching a video on cancer and its cures.
She took the decision and opened the door. Sure enough he was on his phone, “I’ve told you before James, you won’t be able to get any sleep now”                                                                            
“Sorry Mom, I won’t do it again, I promise”                                                                               
“OK, switch off your phone and go to bed, goodnight"                                                                            “Goodnight”                                 

She knew him all too well, that’s all he ever did, every day when he got home the first thing he would do is get on his phone and start tapping away. Texting girls, he’s going into puberty she thought, he was 14, that’s the age when things start to happen and they affect how he thinks, we’ve all been through that. She wanted James to be a lawyer, he was a great speaker and could always formulate an argument, that’s what his reports had said, so it must be true. It could earn him a lot of money so he could have a nice house, get married, have kids and live a nice life. That’s all she wanted for him, to live a nice life. She wasn’t very good with education, she had failed her A levels and been forced to drop out, she had worked for her uncles business until she met George, he was great. Although sometimes they did have loud arguments and he had never really listened to her point of view and mostly relied on his own opinions. She could remember the countless number of times they had gone to see some terrible art gallery with him that they had both hated. Nevertheless, she loved him and would do anything to have a lasting marriage.

Sure he was annoyed, but he was also grateful. If his mom hadn’t come in he probably would have kept on watching videos until past midnight and never had gotten the sleep that was so cherished. He had observed with time that the older you are the more you come to like sleep. When he was younger, before his fifth birthday, he could remember hating going to sleep and waiting for the latest time to go to bed but now he went home just to lie down and take a nap, it was so relaxing and he woke up re-energised. He noted that as you get older you start to notice more and more things about the past that you couldn’t possibly have realised then. He decided to get some sleep for the next day so closed his eyes.

He could see his patient in front of him, she had recently gone into ventricular fibrillation and needed a desperate heart transplant. He had decided to work over time so was the only doctor there capable of succeeding in such an operation. He applied the anaesthetic and opened her chest, he had the replacement heart next to him and could see how he would operate; he cut the superior and inferior vena cava and sewed them carefully to the new heart. Then he did the same for the aorta and realised he needed to get the heart pumping. He took to his bare hands and rhythmically pushed onto the ventricles and the atria.  His hands were covered in blood. He had lost hope, but his hands kept pushing. He was sweating in desperation. Then, the heart started beating. He looked, unbelieving. He had just brought someone back to life. He closed the young women’s chest and called for help, he had just saved a life completely against the odds and the reality of this shocked him. Suddenly, the women jumped up and shook him “Wake up! Wake up!”

She went into his room quietly, he said his alarm didn’t work but she could clearly see that it did, the light was on and all that had to be done was to set it. She silently opened his cupboards and took out his clothes for school; his white shirt and black trousers that made him look so smart, his tie was in his pocket and she thought it made him look like a solicitor. She pulled up the blinds and took him by the shoulders before vigorously shaking him and his white blanket on her deceased grandma’s bed. She had given it to her when she had bought her first apartment. The memory brought tears to her eyes. She quickly shook herself out of it and resumed to shaking her son awake. He awoke with a shock and she rebuked him,
“You should have your alarm on or you’ll miss the bus!”                       
“I told you mom! My alarm is broken!”                                                                                                
“I put your clothes on your bed, get dressed quickly"                                                                               
She knew she was too nice, but he was her son after all so she had to take care of him. She would always do every little thing he desired. When he wanted some food she was there to get it, she always said ‘no’ at first but her refusal didn’t last long.

He was ready for another day at his boring school, he already knew everything they taught him. He was top in his class for all his subjects and didn’t need to focus in class, just raise his hand from time to time to show the teacher that he was interested. In all his exams he received top marks. There wasn’t much to be said about his friends though. The way he put it was ‘unpopular’ but it was clearly worse than that. People spoke behind his back and people he thought were his friends were slowly drifting away from him. Once I become successful it will all be fine he pondered. All he wanted was someone that would listen and not care if what he said was stupid and give him advice for his daily problems whether it regarded things including his social life or something as minor as homework. It was lunch time and as usual o he sat on his own and thought carefully about what he was grateful about and what he wanted the most. He wasn’t like the other boys he thought, I understand that sometimes I can make mistakes and that other people can be correct, it’s just that other people don’t understand me, no one really knows me, not even my own family. Everyone else just cares about football or new cool ‘vines’ and their social statuses within the ‘popular’ people.

Michelle was at home, as always. It had become her daily routine. She just sat in front of the computer looking at things she really wanted to buy knowing husband would disapprove. Sometimes, she would go shopping or go out with friends, but she had only seen them once in the last couple of months. She didn’t have a job and only relied on George’s small business to run the family. They lived in a small house and could have been considered as being the ‘modest background’ that so many celebrities claim to have emerged from. She hoped it would be the case for her son, she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but she didn’t like her lifestyle. She could only hope that James wouldn’t have to live like this, she was confident that he would become a great lawyer. He had shown all the traits to become one so far although he had never really shown any interest for a particular career path. She had some news to tell him when he got home. She was sure he would love it.

His school day had ended as usual, he took the bus and was abused by his peers. He was called names and accused of being a homosexual, he knew he wasn’t though, he reassured himself; he quite liked the girl that sat at the back of his French class, but he had never dared to speak to her and just sat from afar making sure she couldn’t see him. He was sad, as usual, and sleep deprived from having been on his phone the night before even though his mom had stopped him watching more documentaries. He was thinking about going to his cousins, he was a doctor with a good reputation around London and he was he could set him on the correct route to becoming the doctor that he had dreamed about on so many occasions.

She heard the knock on the door and was quick to answer it.                                                                  "You took long was the bus late?"                                                                                                            "No, there was some traffic"                                                                                                                      "Anything interesting to say?"                                                                                                                  "No not really"                                                                                                                               
"What’s the matter? Had a bad day?"
"No, nothing I’m just tired"
"Well, you’ll be glad to know I got you some work experience with some lawyers this Sunday!"
"Why Mom? I don’t even want to be a lawyer"
"James, I’m sure you’re going to like it"
"Mom, you don’t get it, I don’t want to be a lawyer"
"So what do you want to be?" She said, a bit shocked at this, she didn’t know anything about her son’s career choices. She realised she didn’t know much about what he wanted to be, It doesn’t matter, a little work experience is always good isn’t it?


“Mom, how can you not know this?! It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to become! I’ve told you so many times, I want to be a doctor! I was going to ask you if I could do some work with my cousin!”
“I’m sorry James but when did you tell me that you wanted to be a doctor?”
“Mom, I’ve told you thousands of times, you’re just always stuck inside your phone. You never listen, you just stare down at your phone all the time”
“How dare you speak to your mom like that! I raised you and you will listen to me!”
“Mom, you raised me to be like this and now you don’t want to be like this, I’ve had enough of everything you’ve told me. I don’t want to be like you!”
She was stunned by the reaction of her son, she could feel the tears coming to her eyes at the sudden rebellion. She had thought he was stable but evidently she had been wrong. She was scared at the possible consequences of their argument and she ran upstairs to cry in her room indignantly, she felt like a small child having been told off by her strict parents. She wanted everything to be sorted, she realised she had to speak out for herself but for now she sat huddled up in the corner of their small bedroom at the highest point in the house.


He knew what he had done was wrong, but he realised it was necessary if he wanted things to get better between everyone in his family. Yet he felt bad, bad because his mother was probably now crying in her room, as she did when his father neglected her feelings so often and she was too scared to raise her voice against him for fear he would leave her. He hated his father, for inflicting this upon them, he was at work now and would never hear of this. He hated it. Hated this way of life where no one understood him or even wanted to understand him. He knew that one day things would get better, but when times were at their lowest point of desperation, sometimes, he would forget this and in the midst of his sadness despair at the thought that his situation would never get better. He stayed downstairs and sat on the old black leather sofa, it had always been there, since his birth. He lay down on it and thought about what he could do to possibly sort himself and his hopeless family out, and occasionally, a tear would make its path across his distressed face.

She woke up with a shock, she had cried herself to sleep like in her teenage years after a bad break up. Her husband hadn’t moved her, she knew he probably thought it would worsen her mood if he did but in the dark hidden and forbidden corners of her was the thought that he didn’t care about her. She realised her face was red from the tears falling down her face and her eyes were heavy and only partially open. She wasn’t going to get up. She was going to stay there until her husband had left and gone, calmly inside her room to avoid confronting him.

He got up and dressed without his mom coming to his room for the first time since starting at secondary school. He felt the lack of something when his had breakfast but he didn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to talk about it, he regretted everything he had said that fateful night, and he knew nothing would ever be the same. He wanted to disappear. To take a ticket to a hidden place of complete silence where no one could ever find him. A place where he could see people weep his disappearance, see who really cared and who would cry. Then he would come back, and finally have a part in society. He would be accepted, everyone he knew would realise what he meant to them, how much of a hole it created within their lives. He would start planning, an escape plan to find somewhere to go. Somewhere peaceful where he could continue his studies in only Biology and Medicine so he could become an established name in the field of Medicine, then he would get married to a nice wife and have children, live in a nice house and have nice friends and live a great life without having to worry about his past. He knew. He would escape after school. He ran to his room and packed dark clothes inside his bag.

She knew things wouldn’t get better, their argument had opened a wound that would be fatal if it wasn’t treated, and even then it would leave a clear scar that would disfigure the face of their relationship to an extent where a transplant wasn’t an option. She could only hope they would eventually talk to each other again, conversation was the start of everything wasn’t it? I have to get him off his phone. No! I won’t listen to those ‘experts’ anymore! I’ll talk to my son properly as soon as he gets home. So she started waiting, for hope that would never arrive.

School ended quickly, all day he had been thinking about what he would do after school, he made sure to make the most of his few friends but none of them noticed and he was mostly ignored. It won’t be the same after today he pondered to himself. In all his lessons he hadn’t been focused, he was up in the clouds, with only himself to talk to. He was able to converse with himself, when he deleted all the background noise from pointless chatting between friends about recent ‘vines’ they had seen or a singer that had released a new song. He had found a solution to his troubles, he was going to disappear even though he would encounter a few problems along the way. He would enter a new life.

She was thinking about what to say when he would come home, she was formulating apologies and expecting some from her son, she was impatient. She decided to take her car and go to the bus station straight away. She arrived 10 minutes early and carried on thinking about what she was going to say, she knew it was going to be something about change, about becoming a different person, more educated, she wanted to start reading more complex books, she hoped it would improve her situation. She could only hope for the best. She knew James would think about it deeply and maybe not respond, but she could only hope. Hope was the last thing she had.

He didn’t get on the bus, he stayed at school and changed into his dark clothes before taking it to a run to get out of school without being noticed. He took the bus to central London. It was a long ride, he sat on the first seat he could see and put himself next to the window and looked outside. He looked at the moving background, the trees from his school neighbourhood then the tall, grey city buildings that dominated the centre of the city like giants in an ancient time and smelt the different people that sat unknowingly, there were some that smelt of old age, like when you kissed a great-grandparent, he wouldn’t call it a stench, but a strange smell that he commonly associated with it. He could also feel the air around him, it was stiff and unwelcoming, full of bacteria that had been shared with everyone around it and he could feel the bizarre tension that always filled a crowded bus, nobody spoke and the silence it caused was deafening. He thought about what he was going to do and the implications of it, the sadness he would bring upon the whole of his family. He looked at the people in the streets knowing none of them were worrying about him, none of them knew what was about to transpire, but it would be heard everywhere on the news. Then they would all know and he dreamed, although he knew it was desperate, of the sad faces with tears streaming down their faces, dark blue bags under their eyes from lack of sleep and their hair in messes because all they would do watch on the news for any possibility of him coming back, but he knew there wouldn’t be. He started stressing, was it the right decision? He had so much inspiration, so much good to do in the world, so much people to save... No, if I continue I will inspire hundreds, maybe even thousands more.

She started worrying. James hadn’t come off the bus so she had called him but to no avail, maybe he missed the bus? No he would have called, maybe his phone was out of battery? No he would have used a friend’s phone. She couldn’t think of a reason and looked at the station in despair. Raindrops started falling. The station looked haunted, the rain fell onto the dark grey pavement, it was a mix of colours but they were all a shade of either grey or black now rendered darker with the rain. The station itself was a pole about two metres high with a sign on top displaying the name of the station and the numbers of the buses that passed, there was no one there, the station was deserted apart from the occasional pedestrian walking passed, they were mostly young teenagers in dark coloured tracksuit bottoms with black coats above their head but occasionally an older person in beige trousers, shoes that could be worn with a suit and a drenched shirt worn with a dark coat and an umbrella that didn’t work. Those were the people that made up their neighbourhood, they didn’t fit into either categories and had the money to move but it was up to her husband, not anymore, she thought on, I’m going to make decisions now, it won’t be him taking all the decisions in and out the house, but right now her son was the main issue. She called him again. It rung once, twice.
He had gotten off the bus at a station near London Bridge. He now stood on the outer edge. He looked down at the drop beneath him. His ticket to a new life. People were looking at him now, staying at a three metre boundary to avoid any sudden movement. Downwards, he saw his feet, and below the crashing waves of the massive river. They were black at this time of day, the wind was up and displayed the true nature of the enraged waves. They shouted at him, showed their true face, “Come to me!” They bellowed
“What about my mom?”
“It is only when you come that anyone will finally take notice of who you really are”, the river replied with its large yet obviously fake grin. He started to hesitate. What if it’s the wrong decision? Maybe I should just...? He couldn’t think of anything. His dark, wavy hair blew across his face covering his spectacularly hazel eyes, even with his dark tracksuit bottoms and hoodie he was affected by the chilly wind that blew across his body and burned his throat with freshness. He felt his hands loosen around the edges of the side. His phone rang. He knew who it was and he searched in his trouser pocket 
“Hey Mom”
“Where are you? I’m really worried and we need to have a serious conversation”
“Mom, please don’t be alarmed. I’m standing on London Bridge above the water, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now. I’ve wanted to disappear-”
“James...” Her breath came out in quick sharp sobs
“-Mom! Listen, I just wanted to make an impact on this world, I’ve never made an impact. No one ever listens to me, I don’t have any friends at school I can talk to, I want to speak and to be listened to, to ask and to be answered and I’ve resolved that the only answer is this. All I’ve ever wanted to do was to contribute goodness, no one ever saw that, no one ever saw me. I know it’s sad and that you’re going to miss me, but I just want people to realise what they’ve done, to finally make everyone notice that if they don’t... All I ever wanted was to be a doctor, to save lives, I hope I will be a martyr, to show that if you don’t nourish those who truly mean good but just can’t communicate it through speech”
“James... I’m sorry, I know you must be angry and I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through, but you don’t understand what you’re leaving behind!” She shouted in despair, she was in tears. They streamed down her face like an enraged river at the peak of its height, “I need you! You’re my only pillar of support, I won’t be able to cope with your father, and I will live the rest of my days in desperation and solitude. Please don’t do this to me!”
The rain crashed down in large masses, his hair was drenched in his own sweat and the rain, he clenched the phone in his hands until his knuckles were white
“Mom, I love you. I want you to know that, you’re the only person who’s supported me through harsh times, I know we never really talked much, I wish we did...” The rain turned to thunder, and vicious vivid lightning lit up the sky showing his face in a flash but then disappearing back into the shadows, “Mom, I wanted to leave a message, I guess this is it-”
“No, James, think this through”, her sobs were clearly audible through the phone, she was running outside now, she had her hair in a mess from the last fateful night, she was running as fast as she could, she didn’t know where from or to. Too many things were rushing through her head. Filled with the cries of thousands, some voices that tremored and some analytic, she debated with herself but nothing was audible beneath the thick sheet of her sorrows, “Please!”
“-Mom, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done”
“I can do so much more now! I understand! We can be happy! It doesn’t have to end this way!”
“But so much more happiness can be gained if I take the step! How many people will realise the harm they have been doing!”
“It isn’t going to work!” It was all she could think off, she had fallen into an abyss that she feared would never be able to come out from. She wasn’t talking, it came from a deeper part of her, the part that she had hidden from her husband, it rebelled and pushed the only reason she had left into the form of words, “Everyone will be sad, then you will be forgotten and another child with the aspiration for life will be lost, you can’t stop it, all you can do is fight it!”
“You’re wrong! I can stop it, the feeling of despair that you get in your darkest moments of sadness!” The rain fell across his emotionally scarred face, tears falling and glowing bright under the lightning of awesome power
“I’m sorry Mom” he cried out. “Goodbye, please don’t weep for me long, know that I am sacrificing myself for a just cause, I am going to save more lives than I could have during a lifetime. I love you mom. Goodbye.” He dropped the phone down the endless drop that lay before him, it shimmered under the trembling lightning and screamed a final call for help across the midst of the death marked fall.


He stood there in the blinding darkness and looked down. It’s worth it. He took a last breath and his hands began to slip from the rough, wet stone. He fell forwards and spun in the air, time slowed down around him. I was inspired, I could have felt the pulse of a needy person in my hands and have been trusted with the lives of complete strangers. I’m going to pass my inspiration to everyone now. Those in need and those who have run out of any inspiration. I could have become anyone I wanted, a singer, a scientist, an athlete, but now I am a martyr for the cause of sadness. To remove evil from the world, the evil that caused this upon me and my family. Those like me will be spared, the evil will become good and push the world to perfection. Is that even the point? Why am I sacrificing my life? Is it for anything? Who says any of this matters? Maybe all this is a waste, maybe life is just... Luck. Maybe it was a meaningless part of our universe that just happened to produce such complex life as humans. Isn’t that pointless? Surely the world has a meaning, surely everything we know was created for a reason and my act is just part of a bigger plan envisaged by a greater mastermind inside the universe. Maybe a God, maybe the powers of mature. All I want is to understand. That was my inspiration, to understand the world. To know what everything meant rather than it just being something that we took for granted. A wasted inspiration.
His body fell down to the waves and a last tear came from his eye. A tear filled with the sadness of thousands, it was crystal and had a slight glow around its pure edges. It slowly drifted among the thousands of tormented raindrops as though it were flying smoothly inside the agonised winds that blew the ghostly tune, the tear sang in a beautiful voice of truth a song too pure for an ordinary ear to hear. It felt the air around it and lit up in godly light under the powerful lightning. And slowly landed on James’s lifeless head taking it away to the bosom of the darkness.



She screamed at the top of the voice and fell down onto her knees and her head fell into her arms, she shouted again “Why!” A wimpy last attempt to call for help to higher powers, to gods? To nature? She cried and didn’t care about the passing strangers in the dark of night. Her back lit up with every bolt of lightning and glowed in the destructive rain. She was cold but didn’t notice, her legs were covered in dirty water, her clothes were a wretched mess of brown and green. She shouted at passing pedestrians in her sorrow, looking for an answer in the unknowing, emptiness of the air around her. She screamed incomprehensively, completely powerless to anything. Attempting to gain any understand, any help from anything. It’s what people do her deep hidden feeling said they don’t understand, they shout powerlessly and can’t achieve anything, yet they know there is nothing to be done but mourn. They keep on shouting, looking for a voice of reason when there is nothing to be heard. All has been done and the future is the only thing that will keep you sane. She stood in this new mood of understanding, and, still in pitiful sobbing, she walked towards the station to find the final burial place of her anguished son.

INSPIRATION: The Blank Page

Most people love a blank page. A new start – a clean slate full of opportunities. What’s not to like? For me, an empty sheet is terrifying. The pressure to write claws at me as time ticks away, the daunting pages sitting there, mocking me. I try to block everything out, focus my mind away from all the distractions, onto the blinking cursor where words should be flowing. But nothing comes.

Eventually, I give in to the temptations around me and let my mind wander. Through the foggy window, I watch snowflakes flutter gently from the sky, shimmering in the morning light. My eyes close. I find myself in a deserted street, every surface covered in a thick, white, snowy blanket. The howling wind drowns out my footsteps as snow brushes the tip of my nose, urging me to have a taste. Shrill voices rise into the air as I turn the corner into the park.

Walking through the gate, I'm greeted by an incredible sight. Hundreds of kids, laughing, celebrating the snow, their colourful jackets brightening the monochrome landscape. Snowball throwing children are soaked to the bone, their gloves sopping wet. Others skate across the lake, making large cracks in the surface. Sledges hurtle down the hills, racing to the bottom. A few lone snowmen are dotted around the hills, their pebble eyes surveying the scene, old scarves wrapped carelessly around their shoulders.

My eyes flicker open, and I'm back at my desk, gazing at the same blank page, the same flashing cursor. But suddenly it doesn't seem so intimidating. My head is full of ideas, just waiting to be put down onto paper.

INSPIRATION: Becoming Your Own Inspiration

Where do you get your inspiration?
Do others motivate you to achieve your dreams?
Did that quote you saw push you to try something new?
It’s hard to believe that the inspiration could come from you.

Maybe it’s natural human instinct
That we search for reassurance
Getting it right means you won’t stand out from the crowd
Is being different even allowed?

I say it’s time we start inspiring ourselves
It’s amazing what could be achieved
If we stop looking to others to give us the motivation we need
Be the inspiration, take the lead.

Being the person that provides the motivation,
Who achieves so much,
Is something to aspire to
So don’t sit back and wait for someone else to lead the way

The inspiration can come from you.

INSPIRATION: The Relentless Personal Statement

I can’t remember a time when I didn't know about the personal statement. It’s a constant presence in my life; an inescapable dread haunts me, like the morbid dog “the Grim” from Harry Potter at my heels.

And then, the day comes. Assembly. “It’s time for you to start thinking about your personal statements”, a sonorous voice booms across the theatre. A girl begins to cry. I finally know I am not mad -- they all see it too! They all see the spectre of UCAS! And yet, this is no victory at all. I feel sick. More people begin to weep. The voice ploughs on, relentless. “You need to explain why you want to study your chosen degree” -- the sentence is broken, suddenly, by the sound of someone wailing “BUT WHAT IF WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE WANT TO STUDY?”. The cold, glittering eyes find the person and abruptly skitter off them, and everyone sitting near them edges away. They are already done for.

And now it is just me and the blank white page. Not for long, though: the reports start to roll in from my friends that they’ve done it, have conquered the beast -- “I would like to study English Literature because” (Oxford applicant). “Natural Sciences is the best course for me” (Cambridge). “Politics, Philosophy and Economics because” (another Oxford). I am intimidated, and crush this down (I am a good friend!) by helping them edit and adding suggestions: Ctrl+alt+m, add comment, “Nice ending!”. Ctrl+alt+m, “This would make a good body paragraph but you want a snappier opening”. Ctl+alt+m, “Delete! It doesn’t add anything”. Finished -- with their work. Now it is me, the blank white page, and my worries.
Tentatively, I tap a single key. “I”. Nothing terrible happens! I live on! I gain courage, finish a sentence, and begin to move more quickly -- discuss my lifelong love for English Literature, my exalted status as the top borrower of the school library, the books and poems and plays I’ve read and heard and seen and the things I thought about them. It’s fine. It’s fine, and the spectre is gone. I am sprinting, now, I know I can do it. I am inspired. Draft after draft exits the protesting printer, and they are distributed to parents, teachers, friends, relatives, strangers on the street who make eye contact: anyone who stands still long enough. The criticisms roll back, but I am still on the high of inspiration; like a good Literature student would, I learn from the criticisms. I rewrite, I rebuild, stronger. I pay, I click, and I send; the modern veni, vidi, vici.

And out of the corner of my eye I see it. Three thousand words of English coursework -- and my inspiration nowhere to be found.



INSPIRATION: Conquering the Climb

I do not get inspired very often but in America this summer as I was in Yosemite national park by the massive rock face, el Capitan a huge wave of inspiration rushed through my body. This was a feeling I never felt before. However the question is what has a rock face done to inspire me? A year ago I watched a program on television about a girl climbing El Capitan and ever since I heard that we were going to Yosemite I felt compelled to look up at it.

When we arrived and I caught the first glimpse of this huge rock face knew at that point that I wanted to climb it. All I had been saying the whole way to Yosemite was “I want to go to the base of El Capitan". On the first day we hiked along a trail going up to the base of el capital. When we arrived at the base I looked up “WOW" I had been looking forward to this moment for ages. Now I was even more inspired to climb up this rock face because of its height, beauty and the challenge it would be. I could just feel the feeling standing at the top; I imagined it would feel like I was on top of the world. You would think that you can't get more inspired then this but I did. At the base there was a rocky bit of El Capitan before the face starts getting flat so as I was so inspired I climbed the first five feet and this made me want to climb the whole way even more.

Being inspired at the time was the most amazing feeling but maintaining that is so hard. Although it was the most insperational moment I knew that if it was going to come true and I was going to climb El Capitan I would have to keep hold of that passion.

Now as I am back at school and summer is over I still can find that little bit of inspiration in me and although I have not done anything about it yet I still want to pursue my dream all thanks to that moment.

INSPIRATION: Malala Yousafzai

“In some parts of the world, students are going to school every day. It's their normal life. But in other part of the world, we are starving for education... it's like a precious gift. It's like a diamond”.
14 years old was Malala’s age when she and her family had learned that the Taliban had issued a death threat against her, and the only reason why was that she did not want to have her basic right of education taken from her. For a long and exhausting year, Malala was under constant pressure, not knowing when or if she was going to be attacked. On October 9, 2012, on her way home from school, a man boarded the bus Malala was riding in and demanded to know which girl was Malala. When her friends looked toward Malala, her location was given away. The gunman fired at her, hitting Malala in the left side of her head; the bullet then traveled down her neck. Two other girls were also injured in the attack.

The result of the shooting left poor Malala in critical condition, so she was flown to a military hospital in Peshawar. A portion of her skull was removed to treat her swelling brain. Once she was sent to the United Kingdom for further care, she received multiple surgeries that thankfully took her out of a medically induced coma. In March 2013, she was able to begin attending school in Birmingham.

When I was given this task to complete, instantly Malala’s name and story entered my mind. Her story is incredible. She truly believed in the power and right for young women to have an education, and she never did forget that. At the age of 17, Malala Yousafzai became the youngest person to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. In congratulating Yousafzai, Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif said: “She is the pride of Pakistan, she has made her countrymen proud. Her achievement is unparalleled and unequaled. Girls and boys of the world should take lead from her struggle and commitment."

Malala made me realize the great importance of equality and being educated. I want to use this as a chance to thank Malala for her incredible bravery and showing young girls like me that if you strongly believe that a change should be made or something should be done, you should never give up until it happens. 

INSPIRATION: Michael J Fox

You can be inspired by many things, for example people, books, films and nature. You know you have been inspired by something when it makes you think differently about something, or think about something you’ve never thought before. Something that changes your behavior, your attitude or your decisions for the future.

When you think about who inspires you, you are usually drawn towards someone famous or important. You can also be inspired by people who aren’t necessarily famous, but have done or are doing something good. Someone who devotes their life to helping others is inspiring.

At first I didn’t know what to write about. Movie? Book? Music? A famous person? When I really thought about it, nothing came to mind. Then I remembered that only recently, it was back-to-the-future-day. A day people around the world have been anticipating and waiting for. In 1985, "Back to the Future" was released. It was about a boy travelling in a time machine invented by his crazy scientist friend called Doc. Towards the end of the film they travelled into the future, to the date October 21, 2015. The movie was a huge hit, and was followed by 2 more films in the series. October 21 was celebrated recently to commend the fact that they travelled to that date.  When thinking about the movie, you think about the funny and the interesting parts, but there is actually a story behind the main actor, that not many know about. This story is of Michael J Fox’s. When his name is mentioned, not everyone knows why he is inspirational apart from being an actor in a great movie. At the age of 29, at the height of his career, he was diagnosed with Parkinson's. Parkinson’s is a disease, were the brain cells (called neurons) become damaged. This makes you to be slower, have a loss of balance, impaired speech and tremor. You can only imagine, how this would affect a famous actor's career and daily life. There is no cure, and no one knows how you get the disease, yet 1 in every 500 people have it. That’s around 127,000 people just in the UK. But it is not the disease that is inspiring, but the way he dealt with it, and what he’s done in his life since then. At first, he was very depressed and turned to alcohol. He felt he should keep his disease a secret, and took medicine so he could continue acting and cover it up. After 7 years, with the support of his family, he decided to turn his life around. He had a goal in life, and this was to find a cure to the disease. He is known as the person doing more than anyone else towards the research of Parkinson's. Michael's decision to tell the public about his condition in 1998, gave those suffering from the disease a powerful voice. He has started a foundation (Fox foundation) bringing together the world's best researchers and providing findings for promising studies. In total he has raised over 300 million pounds for his charity. He regularly meets with other patients to give them emotional support and hope for the future.


I have found Michael J Fox's story inspirational, as he could have chosen to lead his private life dealing with his condition far from the public eye, but he chose to stand up and make a difference to the world, and to people with Parkinson's. In one of his interviews, Michael was asked if you had a time machine, and you could go back to the past and change the fact that you have Parkinson's, would you do it? To which Michael answered no. I think that says it all...

INSPIRTION: 'What is Inspiration?'

When you think of inspiration, what is the first thought that comes to your head?
Is it Malala Yousafzi and her story?
Perhaps it is Usain Bolt?
Or maybe it might be a fictional character…

According to the Oxford Dictionaries, inspiration is …                      
1)   The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative:
"Helen had one of her flashes of inspiration"
ingenuity · imagination · imaginativeness · originality · individuality · artistry · expressiveness · creative power · creative talent · creative skill · genius · insight · vision · wit · finesse · flair · brilliance · sophistication
§  the quality of being inspired:
"a rare moment of inspiration in an otherwise dull display"

§  2) A person or thing that inspires:
"he is an inspiration to everyone"
synonyms: stimulus · stimulation · motivation · motivating force · fillip ·
encouragement · influence · muse · goad · spur · lift · boost · incentive · incitement · impulse · catalyst · example · model · guiding light · shot in the arm · afflatus
§  divine influence, especially that supposed to have led to the writing of the Bible.

3) A sudden brilliant or timely idea:
"then I had an inspiration"
synonyms: bright idea · brilliant idea · timely thought · revelation ·

4) The drawing in of breath; inhalation.
"crackling sounds are heard in the stethoscope on inspiration"
synonyms: inhalation · breathing in · drawing in of breath

Most of us commonly refer to inspiration as number 2 (a person or thing that inspires), but really it is much more.

I believe that we need inspiration in our everyday lives to help us strive towards our goals and live to our full potential. The fourth meaning of inspiration is to inhale breath, to breathe fresh air. Oxygen is a necessity, in the same way it is important to inhale fresh ideas that inspire us and exhale the ideas that don’t.  These ideas support our creativity and mental stimulation, just as oxygen plays it is own important roles in our body. Our inspiration shapes our personality and leads us to our personal goals.
This is what inspiration means to me – it’s a way of life!