Butterflies

It is quite raw, so please bear with me and apologies if it is awful, but here is a thing what I wrote.

The girl loved to run and play with her friends. She was still little and knew the simple joy of the sun, the wind and the falling of a leaf. She ran amongst the others every day, through the meadow and down to the woods. She played in the streams, climbed in the trees and looked beneath the rocks. But mostly the girl ran alongside her friend’s, arms wide, mouth open, enthralled by the world.

One day however the girl and her friends came to a dark place, a place they hadn’t been before. The air here was cool but the girl didn’t like the place and sweat prick her skin despite the chill. The air here was damp and stale, but the girl’s throat felt dry and tight. The light was not dappled and playful here, it was dark and uninviting, the girl felt a fluttering, churning in her stomach.  The children stood together, grouped tight, suddenly there was a flash of yellow and they scattered, running again. This time with purpose towards the light and airy places of the world, as fast as their little legs would carry them.

The girl forgot about the dark place and played until the sun started to slip from the sky, one by one the children’s mothers called them home. As the girl turned to shut the door on the world and join the warm, laughter of her family the sky flashed yellow as the sun finished its descent. Suddenly the girl felt a familiar churning, turning in her tummy. Her mother held her and smoothed her hair and soon she was absorbed in family fun, despite there being a funny in her tummy.

The next morning the girl leapt form bed ready to run and play with her friends, but before she could go any further she was pulled back by a tightness in her belly. Her mother smoothed her hair, held her and rocked her and made her a simple porridge to sooth her, but nothing helped. So the girl and her mother went to town to visit the doctor.

The doctor was gruff and grey with a flash of yellow in his eyes. He growled and grumbled at the fuss he was presented with. He told the girl’s mother not to let her eat berries in the wood with her rambunctious friends. He prescribed plenty of rest and sent the girl home to bed.

The girl lay under cool sheets, sipping ice water and listening to her friends run through the meadow, the warmth of the summer sun warming their backs and pushing them toward the cool relief of the woods. The girl missed her friends, but whenever she tried to rise her tummy tightened and ached. Her mother brought her herbal teas to calm and clear her pain but to no avail. Eventually the sun was sinking once again to its nightly slumber. The girl to tried to sleep, but it was a fitful and restless affair.

The next day the girl awoke to find her stomach full and round, reaching out to the world without her, but tender to the touch. Once again the girl and her mother drove to town and visited the gnarled and growling doctor. Even this grumpy, grumbler was perplexed by the girls distorted, double in size, belly pushing her shirt forward. So with more moaning he sent her off to the next town with the big clinic.

The town was big, bigger than the girl could have imagined, the clinic was white and bright, too bright. It was not bright like her airy meadow, despite its brilliance it loomed. The girl held her mother’s hand as they made their way through the corridors, and her troublesome tum, tumbled and twisted with every turn.

The doctors in the clinic were kind but closed, umming and ahhing and looking at her this way and that. The girl held her mother’s hand and tried to think of her meadow, of her wood, of the running streams, the high trees and the low rocks. All that happened though was her stomach began to ache, dull and low. The girl bit her lip and tried not to cry out, she begged her mother to take her home but the doctors shook their heads and made their notes. She was not going home; instead she would have to stay at the giant, white clinic with its lights so bright. She would be prodded and poked, tested and touched, eventually being allowed to sleep, though it was a sleep more fitfully than ever, even with her mother’s protective arm so close by.

On the second day at the clinic the cool and collected staff seemed to be hot under the collar. The girl’s tummy was by now so big and baleful that she struggled to focus on their rambling, ruminations. The doctors and the nurses, the students and the consultants looked and tutted. They scratched their heads, they scratched their beards and they scratched around for ideas. Then a lady doctor stepped forward and said “it’s no use, we need to see what’s inside”. They rushed and they hurried and they got things ready and before the girl could prepare herself the time had come.

The room was hushed; the lady doctor stepped forward with the scalpel raised high. With flick of her wrist and a flash of yellow in her eyes, she made the incision. The girl listened for her scream, but instead came a sigh and from in her insides, fluttered hundreds of butterflies.

The girl soon recover and before very long was back running and playing with all of her chums. If there is anything we can learn from the girl in the woods, don’t run with your mouth open, you never know what you’ll catch.  

Quit it

"Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation." - Saint Augustine

Every year I give chocolate up for Lent and every year I get endlessly asked why, get opinions proffered on the stupidity of giving things up, and comments about how "you don't need to give it up anyway!". I often get made to feel like some sort of social pariah, either for choosing to observe a 'religious' tradition, or for having enough will power to give something up. 

I know Lent is a religious symbol, I know a lot of people think it is outdated and irrelevant, I'm not particularly religious. However I was schooled at a Catholic institution and it was fine. I never felt pressured to believe, or to join in if I didn't want to. For me a Catholic education was one of interesting stories, comforting traditions and friendly faces. The only negativity I experienced was from the academic side of school, not the pastoral, religious side. So for me I have positive associations with the traditions and rituals of Catholicism.  

It is not so much observing a religious tradition for me, as continuing a tradition of childhood. It feels like an important part of the passing year. Given my relationship with time it is hardly surprising it holds significance. That bit is a no brainer for me. 

What about the validity of giving something up, or whether you need to give it up. Do I NEED to give up chocolate? Nope. I am not over-weight and I would imagine statistically the likelihood of me getting big again is probably lower then for many people. The amount of chocolate I do consume probably doesn't do me much harm physically, so I am fine. 

It isn't about my physical health though. It's about my mental health. I have an addictive personality and I am a control freak. So maybe it is good for me to manage my addictive urges, maybe it is bad for me to support my controlling ones. What I do know is, it is necessary to help me move through my year and stay safe. 

At the end of the day why I chose to give something up for Lent isn't really important. What is a shame, is that I feel I have to defend it. It is a complex thing, it feeds part of my story which is clam and nurturing, it also feeds part of it that's more challenging. For those asking remember, curiosity is one thing, derision is something else. 

 

Condition or Compulsion

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

Flash fiction or forced fiction. Is there any point in forcing writing if it won't come. I am undecided.

I know that to get the words to flow you have to turn on the tap, but what if all that comes out is brown and cloudy. Is it worth leaving it running in the hope that it'll run clear, when does the point come that you need to give up and go run an errand or visit a friend whilst you wait for the problem to rectify itself.

I am struggling at the moment to get the words to flow. I'm stuck between the feeling that there is something there, something that is at least good enough to satisfy me, and the feeling that I am just not that articulate and it doesn't matter how much I persevere nothing will ever be quite enough.

I guess at the end of the day writing for me is a compulsion. I can't get it out of my head. I have a vein of creative desire which I can't satisfy any other way. If I sing, ears bleed, if I paint, eyes cross and if I dance, it ends in tears. I'm not saying I can write well, but I can do it without damaging anyone. Reading this is your choice.

So whether I leave the tap running or give it a while is still up in the air, maybe I'll have another cup of tea while I decide.

Fit to work

"One out of four people in this country is mentally unbalanced. Think of your three closes friends; if they seem OK, then you're the one." - Ann Landers

I am contemplating going back to work. I don't want to go, but I really should. My job isn't that bad, I am sure someone would love it. Unfortunately it's just not me. The people I work with are lovely I couldn't wish for better colleges. Although jokes when the heating is off, again, don't always go down that well.

I've been off for a fortnight, viral exhaustion. Get a virus, add a bunch of emotional stressors, lack of sleep, bad eating and boom you find yourself whacked out. It's not just that though.

I'm being stalked by the black dog and lately he's been hanging around, not for a game of fetch. I wish I could put my finger on what attracted his attention, but that's the problem isn't it. If the cause was obvious, the symptoms would be much easier to deal with.

I am lucky, I have a great counselor, an amazing family, fantastic friends. I know that balanced food, sleep, exercise are important. Sometimes though it doesn't matter how hard you fight, how hard you try, it still creeps up on you. Drags you down.

So I am contemplating going back to work, but I am nervous. I am nervous about adding something extra to my week. I am nervous about where black dog might lead me, who I might become. 

Home, Sweet (?) Home

"A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body." - Benjamin Franklin

I'm fairly sure I have had a rant about this before, but it's bugging me again. Why does everyone make being an adult look like it is easy when this is clearly lies?

Lemons, it was lemons that really got me today. How is it that at my parents my mum always have lemon, they never go bad, and I am fairly sure she doesn't use them for anything. Am I being fooled, are they fake? I am sure I have used them for baking before, so what is this witchcraft?

Also stuff going wrong, all of it, all the time. Why does everything go wrong? I get one thing fixed, I settle down and think I am going to get a break, a chance to relax and enjoy my home. Then the next thing goes, or series of things. It is unbelievably frustrating and I feel like I never get a break.

Then there are all the things that haven't gone wrong but need doing. Grass, does it ever stop growing? Get the mower out, fix the "issue" the mower has developed since it was last used, mow the by now jungle like lawn, put mower away, turn around........jungle! The same goes for housework, shopping, finances. Having a home is like having a child in it's own right, with a constant unending stream of wants which rapidly become needs.

Honestly I have to go to work, I have to manage my house child, I have to solve the mystery of sneaky lemons. No wonder I regularly feel a little frayed.

Routine

“Sometimes, when things are going hard, you have to use your routine to keep yourself moving.” – Anonymous

I have been struggling to write the last few days as the observant among you may have noticed. Those of you who know me will know that's because there is a lot of "stuff" going on right now. There is lots I could write, but I respect the written word, once its written down you can't take it back. You have to be careful what you write if you are going to write from the heart.

Anywho I have been trying to work out what I do want to share and found something has been sitting with me for a few days. Someone made a comment the other day about depression and the importance of routine. The black dog definitely doesn't hang around if he is well fed, and walked at the same time every day, he's not a play fetch kind of mutt.

Anyone who has every found themselves stuck at the bottom of the dark well of depression knows the drill. Eat properly, get enough sleep. Do the things that need doing, get out of bed, wash, get dressed, don't push yourself but keep a sense of normality, give yourself a lifeline to hold on to.

The things is there is a fine line between good routine and unmanageable routine. I'm sure I'm not the only one that struggles with balance. The reason I'm generally in a pickle is because my routine is too hectic and I've crashed. I feel like I am on a pendulum, balance is possible but fleeting.

So yes, when I am low I need to get sleep, eat well, get up in the morning, get dresses, get some fresh air and exercise. If someone can let me know how I work out when the list gets too long that would be super. I guess I'll have to muddle along, trying to figure it out on my own for now. 

Little things

“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.” ― Albert Einstein

There is a lot going on right now and I'll be the first to admit I am not holding up very well against these waves. My head says that we deal with different things in different ways, my heart says not a lot, and the rest of me says I need to man up. The result of these different points of view is chaos, internal and external.

However small steps are often the most important ones and today I was reminded of the importance of simple things. I've spent a lot of time outside today, outside and with small people. It is, despite my regular instance otherwise, still winter (just). It was grey and damp and blowy out today. It wasn't freezing though, nor was it entirely grey. There were swaths of white and it wasn't snow, there were splashes of yellow dotted here and there. The trees weren't green, they weren't even fluffy, but wrapped up tight in their protective coats are signs of spring. I know because I was showing a little person, well between stirring puddle cauldrons and transforming things with giant stick wands.

Little things are important, taking time out to look for signs of spring, to contemplate the ever changing nature of all around us. Holding on to these little insights is something different. I guess that is the next step. I hope it isn't too big

Borked

"Wisdom is the reward you get for a lifetime of listening when you'd have preferred to talk." - Doug Larson

Have you ever been in a relationship which lacked in the communication department? One where you were either constantly second guessing each other or at cross purposes. It is not a pleasant position or one which you choose to get into. I am in that kind of relationship with my mental and physical health. My body refuses to tell me straight up what it wants or needs, it tries to take care of itself without my help and regularly fails.

I fell asleep this afternoon for no reason. I don't nap, I hate napping. I'm either asleep or I'm awake. If I sleep I need 4 hours minimum, if I am awoke before then, well lets just say, BEWARE. Why could my body have not just told me I was tired, oh I don't know last night. Or maybe have choose to get some quality sleep during the 8 hours I was in bed last night.

On that same vein why can't it tell me I am thirsty rather than breakdown because I haven't drunk enough water. Why can't it tell me I am full when I have eaten enough or hungry when I haven't, rather that telling me I am full when I am sad and hungry when I am bored.

I guess like with any relationship the real question is, is my body not telling me the right things, or am I not listening to what it is telling me? I guess I will have to just keep trying to find out.

Dammit, Janet.

"I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey." - The Rocky Horror Picture Show

It's cold and windy outside and I am lying in bed writing to you and regretfully peeling off  fake eyelashes. It's been a heck of a night. I think I am in love with a man in a corset and stockings.

I had a strange introduction to Rocky Horror. I knew most of the jokes and lyrics before I had ever even seen it. 50 miles on foot, over three days, in the Scottish boarders, with a (mixed sex) group of scouts has you picking up the strangest things. Most of Life of Brian, ditto Monty Python's Holy Grail and all of the lyrics to every Rocky Horror song, all pepper with Full Metal Jacket quotes, obviously. 

Despite such strange beginnings  or perhaps because of them, The Rocky Horror Picture Show has an extremely fond place in my heart. Last nights 40th Anniversary show was amazing, the cast and the audience were stunning. The cast knew to expect the unexpected and the audience knew how to provide it. From the opening line the energy levels were turned up to 11, I had trouble staying sat in my seat. Oliver Thornton's Frank-N-Furter was beautiful and intense, who thought a man in stockings could be that alluring, whatever your preference. Philip Franks as the narrator was razor sharp and utterly unflappable. Sadly, Eddie was weakly played and some what over looked, though much of the audience seemed unfazed by this. Also a song by Brad in the second act drastically changed the pace of the overall performance,jarring against what came before. Otherwise Each and every member of the cast knew they're role and played to exactly what the audience wanted. Rhydian's Rocky was not only perfectly sculpted, but finally a Rocky with a voice, and what a voice.

So glad I got to see the show again, and to share the experience with the friends that I went with. Now all that is left to do is wipe away the last traces of drag queen ish make up, and crawl into be with "Don't dream it, Be it" floating around my brain.

Empty

“There's just something obvious about emptiness, even when you try to convince yourself otherwise. ”
― Sarah Dessen

I don't know what is betraying me. Body or mind. I have nothing to give. I feel like I have been hollowed out. Maybe it is the cold. Maybe it is the fact nothing has been working at work this week. Maybe it is this dark time of year. Whatever it is I am afraid that today I have nothing to give.

I hope your body and mind are behaving better.

The Gift of Dyslexia

"The biggest problem with dyslexic kids is not the perceptual problem, it is their perception of themselves. That was my biggest problem." - Bruce Jenner

I think I have mentioned before, I am dyslexic. Today I am particularly Dyslexic. I hadn't noticed it explicitly before, but apparently stress makes me worse. I managed to transpose every set of four numbers when reading out a credit card number.

I don't consider myself "very" dyslexic, although in truth I don't really know what constitutes as mild or sever dyslexia. Sometimes I wonder though, maybe I just don't notice it, maybe it is my attitude that makes it feel like part of me rather than something wrong. It is swings and roundabouts. My attitude, that it is just another unique part of my make up, probably makes it easier for me to get on with things, but harder to recognize where it does make experiences different for me.

It made me wonder what else we take for granted. I am not suggesting we are all walking round a bit wrong, but more self awareness can't be a bad thing?

Gotta have faith?

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Faith has been a bit of a theme lately, not least on Sunday when I was asked to celebrate a friend's son's Christening. It was strange celebrating a CofE service. If anything my family would be Protestant, but I went to a Catholic school and my extended family are Catholic, so for me if it's not Mass it doesn't feel right. However I did get a cup of tea which I was allowed to drink whilst sat in the pews so it wasn't that bad. 

I find religious faith quite a challenge, I'm not sure I believe in, as my brother would put it, the magical sky wizard. What I do have though is a sense of something more, something bigger. I just don't know what that is, maybe it is a collective consciousness, maybe it is the flying spaghetti monster *all hail his noodley appendages*. There is something that my faith hovers over that I can't quite put my finger on. 

I don't think that is a bad thing though. I am science minded, I believe in fact, in proof, in evidence, in proving a hypothesis. I also strongly feel that a sense of something else, means you might have your feet firmly planted on the ground but you can still have you head in the clouds, feeling the sunshine, hearing the birds sing and hoping to find something new. 

It's oh so quiet

"Saying nothing...sometimes says the most." - Emily Dickinson

I can't really write much again today. I am tired, I am fed up and Thumper's Mum said if you can't said if you can't say anything nice.

My work was cold, the heating is broken.

My computer was broken, nothing new.

I'm shattered for no particular reason.

I have nothing nice to say.

I do have chocolate.

I'm going to go do that.

Night.

Sorry

"It takes a strong person to say sorry, and an ever stronger person to forgive." - Unknown

For tonight, that's it.....as the title say.......

Books and covers spring to mind

"You never get a second chance to make a first impression." - Unknown

I got a second chance to witness a first impression today and it was totally different. I went to help a friend make a very important purchase. One of those things you buy, during your life time, that you want to get just right. I have been honored that two people have allowed me to be a part of this experience. Interestingly they both chose to visit a number of shops and happened to have one in common. 

Two visits to the same place, two completely different experiences, one good, one bad. I find it interesting that two people can go to the same place and have such different experiences. Sure there are a lot of factors, how busy it was, who was serving, what kind of day that person was having, who else was there, etc. Equally though, the two people I went with were both essentially looking for the same thing. Under the surface however, what they wanted was completely different and that, along with all the other factors, had an big impact on their experiences. 

It is a small but intriguing observation, I guess it is kind of obvious if you think about it. Then again, how often does they obvious completely pass us by. I know I won't look at Amazon reviews in the same way again. 

If it goes around, it comes around

“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.” ― Elbert Hubbard

My friends are unique, beautiful, talented and funny. So goodness only knows why they hang out with me. I really am lucky to have them. I guess we all feel that about our friends.

They ground me, the listen to me, they hear what I am not saying. They see what I am doing before I do, and they judge me, but mostly with love. They let me learn for myself, but still pick me up when I fall. 

I don't know about you, but I doubt myself a lot. I get the sneaking suspicion that quite a lot of people feel that way. Quite a lot of folk, doubt themselves, wonder if they are getting it right, worry about what they are doing wrong. 

I would imagine some of my friends worry about those things, at least some times. They shouldn't though. Why. Refer to paragraphs one and two. 

If you think your friends are pretty awesome, then they shouldn't worry either  and chances are you are their friend too, so neither should you. I guess that means neither should I. 

Confused? Me too. 

Look again

"Advice is like snow - the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper in sinks into the mind." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I should go to bed instead of sitting here watching Bones and eating a Curly Wurly. Alas I have my snow head on. You totally thought you'd got away without snow chat for a second there didn't you? Sorry no luck people it is all about the white and fluffy today, at least I hope it's going to all about the white and fluffy.

I know, the first sigh of a few flakes and the whole country goes bonkers. I'm sorry, but I love snow, snowy snow snow. It makes everything a little bit more amazing. Yes it is a pain to get to work and everything goes a bit bonkers, but it is so pretty. I feel for those of you who have to get to work, the emergency services, hospital staff, mental health services, prison officers, everyone who makes a vital contribution to keeping things running.

The thing is snow makes me feel alive, refreshed rejuvenated. It is amazing the power in looking at things differently and snow forces you to look differently. My brain definitely needs a different perspective at the moment. Don't get my wrong, my sub-conscious is trying it's best I have been having some fascinating dreams, but the problem is I don't think dream sleep is the most restful sleep. So finding a new view externally is a lot less effort.

My fingers are crossed that the world will be beautifully coated in the morning  Whatever you are hoping for be safe, keep warm and if you get a snow day and decide to pop round, bring some milk, I've only got enough for me.

Loads and loads of nothing.

“Biology gives you a brain. Life turns it into a mind.” ― Jeffrey Eugenides

I have been to the gym, I laughed so hard I almost ended up giving myself CPR with the weight. I saw my Ma and Pa and fitting too weeks worth of news in a hours worth of chat. I have had dinner which was 50% health, 50% carbs and 50% chocolate. I have clearly lost the ability to do maths. I have also lost need to express myself. It is one of those nights where I have nothing to say, so instead I am sitting here typing in the hope something will come.

Maybe it is just that so much has happened today. Maybe I have subjected myself to too much stuff. There was a terrible incident in London this morning, I am sure a lot of other people followed the news. I say news I mean the various media outlets recycling the same few facts endlessly, in slightly different way and threatening to create a black hole if they got any more circular. The problem is I still find something compulsive about it. I guess that says something about me that I need to try and shed light on.

It wasn't a news day where there was a major incident and nothing else to fill the void once those facts could no longer be rehashed and recycled. The other stories were trivial in comparison, but still strangely gripping. Not only that but I finally figured out how to stream i-player and listen to the news and radio whilst at my desk without disturbing anyone.

I think I have out stuffed myself. I think I have over filled my brain without allowing space for any processing. So sorry if you came along hoping to read something interesting or new. This is just an outpouring of the stuff I tried to cram in today my already tattered mind. I going to get it unpack, sorted through and repackaged tomorrow though, so we can only hope for more sense.

You and Me

“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.” ― Bob Marley

Other people. We spend out time with then, we think about them, we expend energy on them, we need them. All is well with this, as long as; they spend time with us; think about us; expend energy on us; need us. As soon as inequality creeps in we are in trouble, whilst inequality is taking hold, blame also slips in through a side window.

I feel bad because you are not spending time with me. You are making me feel bad, You aren’t changing this. You don’t care that I feel bad. You don’t care about me.

Well yes you might feel bad when someone doesn’t spend as much time with you, but are they making you feel bad? They are making you feel rejected, you gave them the power to do that. Take away that power and responsibility, what have you got? Restored neutrality, surely?

Relationships become like an equation from this view point. You spend energy on them, they spend less one you, you feel neglected, you take away their power to make you feel neglected by taking care of yourself, balance is restored.

It isn’t that simple though is it? Social norms tell us that we can be expected to be treated in certain ways. We are brought up to behave within certain accepted framework and believe others will do the same, that others should do the same. In order to maintain social normality, in order for us to recognise un-normal behaviour we need the rules to be followed by all. We need to need other people in order for society to function.

Don’t we?

Food glorious food!

"Tim Bisley: Oh my God. Daisy Steiner: What? Tim Bisley: I've got some fucking Jaffa Cakes in my coat pocket." - Spaced 1999

Food truly is glorious, unless it is hot sausage and mustard, because mustard is grim and yellow and clearly not a food. *watches only reader leave*. Whether you are a foodie or a faddie, a gourmet or a junk addict, food plays a pivotal role in our lives and in our world. We spend about 6 years of our life span eating and if you are me the other 64+ years thinking about food. It is estimated that a third of the food produced globally per year goes to waste.

So how come we are seemingly so clueless about how we fuel our bodies. Presumably we didn't develop from being knuckle draggers whilst abusing our digestive systems? We seem incapable of listening to what our bodies tell us. There is too much noise these days, too much choice, to much marketing, to much packaging, to much information, too much stuff that isn't food.

Of course we should be able to stand up for ourselves, but when bad food is made to be as addictive as possible and you can't exactly go cold turkey, it is a hard battle. Never-the-less I strongly feel that people give up too easily, food isn't just about energy it is about so much more. Listen to your body you'll be surprised what you hear.

*feed me jaffa cakes*

Scared of who you are.

“A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.” ― Dwight D. Eisenhower

Sometimes being white, middle class, and from the home counties can be scary. Not in a fear for you life way, not as in how am I going to survive tomorrow kind of way, but never-the-less scary. Lets not forget that as with most things of this nature, the essence of fear is relative.

Being who I am and where I am from with my lifestyle and upbringing makes me hated. It makes me a target for a lot of vitriol. In that sense I feel a strange kinship with those who seem are very far removed from me, but who are the target of the vitriol of the flip side of the same coin, so called benefit scrounging scum.

Privately educated, you are clearly up your own arse, with a sense of entitlement the size of Jupiter  Comfortably off, clearly you are tax cheating, thieving, scum who hides white collar, unspecified crimes under a layer of Prada and Channel. From the home counties, clearly you having everything and more and would rather kick a tramp than consider "giving back". Goodness forbid that you try and express and opinion, that you try and share your experiences, no-one can hear you because of the silver spoon in your mouth.

Maybe everyone who is shouting, be it about benefit cheats or toffee nosed rich kids, should just stop for a minute and consider the human beings behind the stereotype. Maybe if instead of relying of caricatures we should be thinking about how to turn people towards one another instead of away. Maybe we should look at the stories, not the generalizations.

But then I am spoilt little rich kid, so I am not entitled to an opinion.

Stirrings in the darkness

"No winter lasts forever; no spring skips it's turn." - Hal Borland

It is that time of year where people think me odder than usual. People sit in there houses seeing only the orange glow of street light or the raindrops running down the panes. They rush from warmth to warmth, hoods and hat pulled low, scarves up to their eyelashes. They shiver as the wind blows and wonder what fright the weather man had in store next. 

Do you know what I saw today? Driving home well after 4pm the trees though stark, were still strikingly silhouetted against a grey, but not yet dark sky. I saw a shade of green that I haven't seen for a good eight months. I saw birds scavenging the garden, the last of the winter berries having been consumed, but new offerings are starting to arrive. I even saw a  tiny splash of yellow, like a scouting party for what is to come. 

If you look closely it is the time of year for seeing tidings of spring. 

It's a miracle!......No it's a figment of your imagination. - 11th January 2013

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ― Albert Einstein

Tut tut tut, late again! I should have guessed the lure of the pub would mean I'd need a miracle to post before the turn of the day, but I haven't been to bed so it still counts.

Miracles have been a theme this week. I have been hoping for a few, the fact I got out of bed most days was one. We also discussed miracles of sorts at college, well we considered the miracle question, the question essentially being, "If you woke up tomorrow and found you had the power to alter the way you live easily so that your biggest concern was dealt with, what would that mean and what would life be like?"

Sounds easy, I'd wake up rich, I'd wake up smarter, I'd wake up healthier. It isn't though, the question wants you to look at what you could change in your life which would make the most difference, to know that we have to really know ourselves and know what we want. I wonder how many of us really know what it is that we could change to make ourselves happier, safer, more comfortable in our own little universes. I wonder how often the answer would surprise us, or be far removed from what we thought or feel we can control.

Sure I would love to wake up tomorrow morning and have won the lottery, but would it have fixed the fact that I don't really know where I want my life to go? Would the security of no financial worries really help me to sit down and write in a disciplined way? I doubt it, it would probably just give me infinitely more possibilities when I am looking for ways to procrastinate.

It is an interesting conundrum and I can't help but wonder whether if we gave more time to consider it, if we wouldn't find that what we are looking for is a lot closer than we might have though.

Radio Ga Ga

"With a bit of a mind flip, you're there in the time slip" - The Rocky Horror Picture Show

I have finally wrenched myself out of the incorrect listening frequency for my demographic and placed myself firmly in another one, where yet again I don't belong. Actually I say that, for the first time in my radio listening life I am now a two station gal. Six Music and Radio Four share my bestowed grace of tuning in. Though Radio Four is my true love. It does't seem to be able to help but appeal to my inner vintage geeky goddess (god I sound cool on paper....when I am writing.... never mind). The simple fact that they stop broadcasting at 1am, this being preceded by the shipping bulletin and proceeded by the national anthem brings me out in goosebumps of joy. It is amazing, it is like being instantly transported back to the 1950's. Bliss.

Who could not love listening to the home of the Infinite Monkey Cage? Where else do you get an eclectic mix of, an expose on the myth of genie's, half hour of a math's bloke and stats making sense, James Naughtie actually calling the ex-Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt what we all call him, but live on national radio, and of course where else could you possible get the deep unfathomable, but strangely gripping Archers? Tum ti tum ti tum ti tum.

Hmm I actually think that might be more nonsensical than last night. It's getting towards the end of the week though and I am seriously sleep deprived. Expect normal service to resume........who am I kidding.

It's about to get weirder

"You're traveling through another dimension........ Your next stop...the Twilight Zone."—Rod Serling

Welcome, it's late and I've had a long day.......consider yourself warned. I am currently sat in bed duel screening and munching wafer biscuits. I have been to the gym and the endorphin's are flowing. Expect nonsense and limited punctuation. 

Sometimes the way I approach thing exasperates even me. I hate waiting, really hate it. I think it is because once I have made a decision I want whatever I have chosen, now. I need to know if I was right, what the next step is, exactly how things are going to work. I am a kinesthetic learner, (yes, I did just do that to use a long word) I learn by doing. Sure I might be able to grasp the concepts by watching or listening, but unless I have got hands on, down and dirty, I can't be sure if I understand. 

I guess that is probably my dyslexia, I often wonder how much of the way I am is just every day weirdness and how much of it is my kinked up brain. My Dad is just as weird as I am, if not more so. I am fairly sure he is a bit spectrumy as well. That's not PC is it,......is it OK if you say it in reference to yourself and others? Bah your are all geeky creatures you know what I mean. 

Yesterday I had an interesting conversation about being clinically thick dyslexic. Someone shared that it is something they keep to themselves, that they worry about, that they think they hide. Which is something I find hugely alien. My darling parentals, dear old Mum and Dad, are as nuts as a welly full of bats, they are truly wonderful, but boy did they land me with some baggage. Not however when it comes to my dyslexia. As far as my parents are concerned the yes dyslexia explains why my brother and I can't spell,and why my brother writes in the most difficult way possible, but also gives us so much that other folk don't have. Sure my brother and I joke about being clinically thick, but really we see ourselves as having something special, something that makes us different from you normos. In our house it really is the gift of dyslexia. 

To be honest most of the time I don't think about it. The only time I do consider it is when I am communicating in writing and then the thought is, I hope they don't get so caught up on my spelling and punctuation that they miss seeing me *waves*. Not that I am anything special, but I am a whole lot more than my inability to work out where the u goes. (color, coulor, colour, cuouluour?) I'm a bit odd, several shades of special, but there a some folks out there who like, or at the least tolerate that sort of thing. 

I guess all of this really begs the question, if dyslexia can be viewed so differently by two people who suffer/enjoy it. What other "disorders" might we need to reconsider. It is the age old question, is it the mad man who is really mad? 

Cat got your tongue?

"Those who speak the loudest often have nothing to say." - Unknown

I'll be honest my lovelies I honestly don't know what to say today. The cat has well and truly got my tongue  My brain on the other hand is buzzing. Busy day at work, meetings, tasks, lunch with friends. Busy evening at college, lots of new information, and lots of self reflection as is the nature of the beast.* To be honest I would love to say I worried about the fact that my offering tonight is terribly sub-standard, but frankly I'm too tired.

On that note I will love you and head to bed. Please feel free to take wagers on whether or not I manage to sleep. Na Night.

*Level 2 Counselling Skills

Computer says NO

"Computers are like Old Testament gods; lots of rules and no mercy." - Joseph Campbell

So for what feels like the twelve thousandth time, this morning I dragged myself to work only to find my computer wasn't working. It is Monday, I got out of my warm comfortable bed to face a mean cold world at 7am. Despite the dark, greyness of this mornings winter dawn I still wrenched myself out of the house and negotiated the commute to work, the commute where other people are allowed to drive on the same roads as me. I made the choice between parking in a free spot and walking for ten minutes, or parking in a paid for spot and not walking. Actually that decision was made for me by the other people who are allowed on the roads making my journey ten minutes longer than it should be. I then sacrificed myself to the harsh fluorescent lighting, the unpredictable temperature fluctuations and soup of other peoples post-Christmas germs that is the office. Only to once again spend an hour and a half trying fruitlessly to login to my computer.

It took 35 mins for there to be any sign that IT recognised that there was a problem. I tried calling myself, but the line was constantly telling me all operators were busy, which suggests other folk were reporting the same thing. It wasn't just me who couldn't get logged on, but every fellow desktop user in my team and doubtlessly that means every desktop user in the organisation. Generally the laptop users, mostly consisting of those who manage the desktop users, do not have this issue. Their laptops rarely fail to allow them to do their work, this makes it quite difficult to manage relations between the two groups. It is an unfortunate truth that human beings find empathy difficult, especially when they have no experience on which to hang that empathy.

Of course the biggest issue we face is the demoralisation of the workforce due to this on-going issue. I believe if my maths is correct I alone have lost nearly two working weeks since August 2012 due to these continually occurring issues. I don't always go in to work with the Monday morning blues. Sometimes I am all game face and ready to go, but that rarely lasts longer than half an hour into one of these little "moments" our IT system likes to have.

With no solution on the horizon however I suspect I am going to have to learn to live with it, perhaps acceptance can be located at the bottom of yet another cup of tea.

Late Post 6th Jan 2013 - Poor Me

"Each patient carries his own doctor inside him.” ― Norman Cousins

6th Jan 2013! (Late post)

Well that was a terrible night sleep and I still feel awful. Funny how that happens sometimes, I'm certainly not ill, my system is just having a moment. The things about days like these is that your body is trying to tell you something, slow down, sleep more, drink more water, be nicer too me. Working out what it wants however isn't always easy, it's like trying to understand a regional dialect when you only have secondary school knowledge of a foreign language. It is especially difficult when you don't spend a great amount of time listening to your body when it is running well, or paying attention to the signals that you are doing things right. I do listen to my body and I am struggling. 

I think today might be a Sunday for the sofa and sitting down. Tea anyone?

Shhh I'm having a moment, just me and my book.

“So many books, so little time.” ― Frank Zappa

2011 - 13 books. 2012 - 20 books. Which means 2013 - 27 books? Hmm we'll see, I'll be happy with 24, two a month wouldn't be bad.

My first read of the year, in a serendipitous fashion, reflects a new beginning of sorts, J K Rowling's first post-Harry novel. Whatever you think of it a a novel, it is safe to say that the author is a storyteller by nature.

The story of a rural town in the West Country which is struck by the sudden death of one of it's Parish Councillors is a powerful one. The charters are well rounded and in some cases beautifully loathsome, most are flawed. The action flips between the idyllic town and a neighboring estate, which is far less salubrious, with an almost careless ease. The story itself is one of those, things happen, but equally you would be happen just to read about the lives of the characters, at least that is how it feels.

I finish it today and will miss Pagford and it's inhabitants. I fine it hard to move between books, between the world the authors share with me. I also have no doubt that I will re-visit Ms Rowling's new offering in the future as I do so often with her Mr Potter and pals.

First though I must find a new landscape to inhabit, new lives to learn about, because there really are so many books, and time is so very short.

The Sun shines out their.........

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” - Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

We all get worked up and say silly things in the heat of the moment from time to time. It is human nature, some kind of survival instinct. It isn’t nice and we would do better without such foolish pride, but never-the-less it is what it is.

I fail to grasp however, what constitutes heat of the moment for some people. If you are in the middle of a screaming match with someone, maybe you should be rethinking how you communicate but that is by the by, that is heat of the moment. What about a discussion with friends who have different opinions. How does that scale up to become a heat of the moment row? What about written communication, how does that situation leave you seeing red, worse still what about the global political arena?

This week the President of Argentina published an open letter in a number of British newspapers restating her belief that the Falkland Islands should come under Argentinean authority. This is not a new argument, not something that has come out of the blue. It is certainly emotive, but I fail to understand how some have managed to reach quite such a level of fury over it? Does the Sun newspaper not realise it is being trolled by an entire nation? Or am I being naive and is there reaction entirely based in the desire to earn money, to re-ingratiate themselves with the British wallet?

Whatever their motives it leave little hope that the wider public might make a move away from reactionism and begin to turn the other cheek. Especially since so many seem to think that the Sun shines out.............

Atop the wooden hill, lies the elusive land of nod.

"To sleep, perchance to dream" – Shakespeare

"Up the wooden hill to Bed-ford-shire", that always confused me as a child. I've been to Bedfordshire, it’s not on top of a hill made from wood, it is too big for starters. Mind you I was quite literally thinking as a child and getting my head round Jean-Luc Picard’s Captain’s log was tough, what on earth was he up to, creating the largest pyre in the known universe?

Anyway I digress. Bed time, sleep, beautiful, wonderful unconsciousness. Time for the mind to do what it does best to sort, to process, to apply balm to the worries of the day. It fascinates me the routines people go through to achieve a state they'll have no recollection about come the morning. It doesn’t surprise me though, I have too many of my own pernickety night time needs to be surprised by anyone else’s. A cool bedroom, a leaning pillow, nothing electrical in the bedroom, two trips to the loo, darkness and quiet. I thought the last two at least would conform to the norm but it seems not.

Some people have to go to bed early to quell a fear of not being able to drift off, despite no supporting evidence that they will struggle. Some can’t sleep with out the television or radio on. Some have to have warm feet or feel protected wrapped to sweltering point in an overly heavy duvet. Others need to cling on to the headboard as though they might fall off in the night.

There is something powerful about the need not to tempt fate when it comes to sleep, not wanting to jinx it. Which suggests that we all place great importance on it, know deep down in a primeval sense that we need sleep. Yet how many of us really take it seriously? How many of us actively ensure we get enough, actively ensure it is good enough, make the sacrifices to ensure we always wake up on the right side of the bed. One wonders how much the lack of a good nights sleep might be at the root of so many of the problems we face every day. Would we all eat better, exercise more, if out brains were rested enough to allow us to focus on these things? Would our relationships with friends, families, partners be better served by being alert and awake after a good nights sleep? Or is all of that a fantasy, is sleep fragile by nature. Are those pre-civilized instincts to remain alert to danger so deeply ingrained that we can’t get rid of them and our strange modern day rituals a way of relieving our natural inbuilt anxieties.

I am sure some boffin out there has studies many of these questions, but some how the power of our need to relinquish to such a unsafe state keeps it's secrets. I know I am certainly no expert, however I will continue my life long study in the hope of figuring my own relationship with sleep out. So up the apples and pears I go.

The morning after the day before the night before.

“In case you never get a second chance: don't be afraid!" "And what if you do get a second chance?" "You take it!” ― C. JoyBell C.

Welcome to 2013. Lets face it, yesterday hardly counts. I don't know about you guys, but yesterday was mostly spent eating cheese and chocolate, and chocolate and cheese. There were also movies and cats and the like but frankly it is mostly a sugar and fats induced blur.

So lets just write it off and get on with our new beginnings today.

Last year was a really weird one for me. There were a lot of changes in my world. Friends started families, or had their families grow. Other friends made commitments to build lives together, maybe start families of their own. 2013 looks set to hold much of the same, weddings, babies, new homes, new jobs, new dreams, on and up, on and up. I had changes in my life, but there were less tangible less identifiable. The kind of changes that sneak up on you. You don't even realise you are in the chrysalis let alone what your butterfly will look like.

I certainly found some pieces of the puzzle, not the ones I expected or the ones I had realised were missing. I learnt that I can think for myself, that I might have opinions Which might seem odd, but it genuinely was a revelation. I learnt how to be calmer, more measured, I also learnt the thinks that challenge my calmness the most. I learnt that it doesn't matter how well you know yourself, sometimes stuff takes over and you will surprise yourself both for the good and bad.

I am not setting any new years resolutions this year. Instead I am setting myself a challenge. Stop sweating the small stuff. For now though I am just going to go to bed and hope I sweat out the fat and sugar, doubt it I think I might have to go for a run tomorrow.

We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet

"Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." ~Hal Borland

So 2012, it wasn't quite what I thought it would be. There were too many goodbyes. There were some moments were love shone brightly. There was unfulfilled promise. Though it is never too later.

I am immensely luck to have wonderful, intelligent friends, both in my life physically and those who I have met online. They get me through, keep me grounded and call me out when I need it. Never-the-less, and despite more help than I believe I deserve, I still don't make things easy for myself. In 2012, in every year, my worse enemy, the thing that holds me back the most is myself.

There is of course every possibility that I only think I am being held back, but I would rather fail for trying than fail for not. So though the turn of the year is not really a beginning or and end, maybe it can be a change.

If all else fails I will get at least two pretty dresses out of 2013, and I'll take that as an early win.