Dedicated to the Ones Who Know Us Best

If you've got them you know, you know who they are. Without question. They're the ones that sense when something's wrong and call even if they're 100 miles away. Who let you borrow their shoes, even if you stretch them. They send you links of stuff they'd think you'd like and buy you silly cheap presents that are memories of a long-forgotten holiday. They think you're sparkling, so much so that you wonder where you'll find a lover who will reflect back such a magnificent picture. They know your drink order.

They'll talk to you about the same problem you've had for ten years with patience, but they'll call you on your bullshit too. You can spend hours with them in silence, and their parents have your mobile number. They'd happily invite you along on their date nights and vice versa.

You've enjoyed many a kitchen disco.

If you called them at 3am and they picked up, you know they'd help you with whatever you needed. They remember what you were like at 14, 16, 18, 21 and know that you still carry some of that uncomfortable adolescent in you, beneath the banter and blow dry.

They know your type from a mile off and steer you away if he's ill-advised.

If they wanted to they could say things that would pierce your deepest insecurities. But they never would, even during the most heated row.

You've laughed with them for thousands of hours of your life.

Travelled across the globe with them.

Know where the chocolate is kept at their parents house.

Sometimes when you're wtith them you feel s heated glow that tickles your spine, like you've drunk a bottle of wine. It's comfort and giggles and overwhelming emotion all at the same time.

Sometimes you want to smack them or tell them, to shut. the fuck. up. And you let them know. Sometimes you miss not seeing them EVERY SINGLE DAY, like at school.

The best foundations of your adult self.

Lost

I have decided after a dreamy ten day holiday to take part in the #100DayProject. There are various versions of this across the web and Facebook, but the general premise is a promise to do one thing everyday for one hundred days. I have decided to write. As a "writer" this may seem an odd thing to choose but I am in dire need of a writing habit that is not at the mercy of my creative spirit. I think comitting to this project will FORCE me to write something every day, however rubbish it is. For added help I will be using The Writer's Block by Jason Reuklak for those times when my head is empty.

I will be posting everything that is written here, so prepare to see A LOT more of me... and apologies if sometimes it isn't the most insightful prose.

Today my challenge was "Describe Your First Brush With Danger". This turned into a much deeper piece than I was expecting, but ain't that the way it goes. Anyway here it is. Day 1.

Lost

Being physically lost as a child is perhaps the most frightening thing in the world. Your heart beats quickly, the world seems huge, familiar paths and areas that you walk with your loved ones everyday suddenly transform into sprawling jungles filled with monsters around every corner. You jump, you jump as anyone approaches you as you have been told not to talk to strangers... you don’t know who to trust as your mother usually vets people for you. You tend to think more attractive people might be nicer to you, or kindly old ladies, but still, you are good and heed your mother’s words. Don’t move, don’t talk to strangers.

After walking around the small vicinity of the area in which you first found yourself lost, eyes desperately trying to make out a familiar figure, a red coat, the pitch of voice that calls you home, you sit down and you cry and this seems like the end of the world. This, the first danger you have ever felt, real true danger. Even as you remember the nightmares you have had in your bed, when your mother or father has come running, you scoff and become more tearful. When you had monsters in your head at night, you knew that they were always there to reassure you that these were just dreams and after hours of softly stroking your back and whispering calming words in your ears you believe them, safe in your home. Safe with your people.

But now they are nowhere to be seen. Everyone around you is a strange blank face and they all seem so large. Your mind flits between panic about how badly you will be reprimanded when they finally do find you and even more hysterical panic that they never will. You cry all the tears you have, until you know it is useless and then you sit forlornly on the ground waiting. You wonder what will happen to you now. Will you die soon or will one of those strange people kidnap you and take you away forever. You know not where, but you have heard such things.

Then she appears, an angel on the horizon that you almost don’t believe is walking, no running towards you. And she is crying. And you find yourself being enveloped in the familiar smell of cigarettes and perfume. The fear tension pours out of your body and the relief brings more tears. You are found.

**

Being mentally or emotionally lost as an adult is perhaps the most frightening thing in the world. Your heart in turn beats quickly and irrationally and then slowly and dully. The world seems huge and tiny at the same time, familiar streets and trains of thought seem both terrifying and full of monsters and that mind-numbing type of monotonous that is so alarming that it often makes you feel physically sick. You fear approach in this loss too, physical approach as this feeling of loss has turned you into a shell-less tortoise, a mole in the sunlight, shirking, blinking... diving for solitude. And also mental and emotional approach, because as fearsome as this loss is you are comfortable in it for now and anything or anyone that might try to tug you from it is highly suspicious and intrusive. Don’t move, don’t talk to strangers.

After walking around this small vicinity of your brain that your loss is comfortable with, you recognise all the familiar figures. They are all you or versions of you that you have allowed or other people that you have allowed, who echo back at you this version of yourself that you have approved. But these familiar figures don’t comfort you, they make you angry because they are why you are lost. This is the first danger, you have felt, the first real true danger, but this time you do not scoff at your nightmares, because they are part of your daytime. And your mind has given so much power to them that they have wrapped around your thoughts. And it is much harder to reassure yourself.

Your real people, your good people are everywhere to be seen. They are in photographs and in phone conversations, they are beside you every day, they are reassuring you, they are laughing with you, they are there. Yet, you are still lost. Even in the sea of familiar faces. You do worry about reprimand, because you are now an adult and adults are not meant to be lost, but it is ok because no one will know. You sometimes cry and sit on the ground forlornly. You do not worry about people kidnapping you... you think that might be a welcome break. You do worry that you have already kidnapped yourself. You know not where, but you have heard such things.

Then she appears, no angel at all, flawed in many ways, but she is familiar. Get up, she says, get up... we do know the way. We are not really lost are we? We have taken ourselves here and so we can get back. She is not crying, she is smiling and she is strong. I’m sorry, she says, I went away for a while, but you always knew I was here. Why are you not moving? Why have you not talked to some strangers? You are not a child. There is that familiar bossy yet placating tone and your fear is beginning to ease. It might take a while you realise, but you do know the way. You knew the way all the time really. Didn’t you. She did, she’s you. You are found.

On Still Being An Inbetweener

Firstly I'd like to point out that the original series of The Inbetweeners started in 2008 when I was neither a teenager, nor male, however certainly identified with that late-teenage claw through life. Time was when everything was a potential embarassment or fuck-up and you really didn't know whether you were coming or going. Whether it was cringe-worthy encounters with the opposite sex, the endless quest for "cool" or the feeling of being slightly out of place in every possible situation.

I also identified greatly with the sentiment of the "Inbetweener", halfway between childhood and adulthood and not really sure if you want to be either. The thing is now in my *cough late twenties, I would have assumed that my "Inbetweener" stage was over and I'd be well into my adjusted adult phase where everyday life was a breeze and my problems were only important, real things like death and taxes.

I have since discovered that is not the case.

In Praise of Americana

Friday was the 4th of July, Independence Day, a celebration for Americans across the world. Generally as a fastidious cynical Brit there's plenty of things I like to criticise about our friends over the pond notably language, faux-positivity an geographical ignorance. However really the United States of America is a complex and astounding country that has given the world a lot of impressive objects, laws, celebrations and notable figures. In honour of the 4th July, here is my personal and current top 10 brilliant Yank things or people:

1) Attitude

Yes, yes, yes. Well done. You can. Congrats. The yanks are streets ahead of us in celebrating success. The clichéd and much maligned American dream is still woven into the fabric of the country. Every small town gal and guy can make their dreams come true and America praises them when they do. They're proud of their countrymen's success. 

Whilst there may be a lot to criticise about the American attitude towards various things, they rarely tear down and scorn the successful as we often do in Britain. Surely success should be encouraged (ungrit your teeth).

2) Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton, Country Music and Hoedowns

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, the man in black, drug addict, lover, prison reformer and epic songwriter and singer. I pine for his dark tones and languid lyrics. I do not recognise his world and yet I lap up the emotion he conveys. I want him.

Dolly Parton and her hoedown contemporaries are part of a genre that we will never have in GB, despite our recent bout of nu-folk bands. Oh how I yearn to journey to Nashville and dance in cowboy boots all night...

3) Denim

Levi's were the first, hard wearing clothing for the workers which have since become an international unform for hipster teens, weekend dads, chic oligarch wives and everything in between.

God bless America for making our lives easier...

4) Teen Drama TV

Not sure if I would have got through the relative vanilla-mess of my Home Counties adolescence without Dawson, Jen, Joey, Pacey, Ryan, Marisa, Brooke, Lucas, Chuck and Blair. Well in to my early twenties these kids had my heart and the wardrobes I wanted. Why did public school boys from Guildford not have the rippling abs of Ryan or the deft wit of Seth, the sexiness of Chuck. Why didn't we have jocks and keg parties and incredible vocabularys...

In "teen-drama" land if you drunk a few drinks every Saturday, you were probably an alcoholic, the boys next door were cute (they NEVER are) and it was quite normal for close friends to die or have sex with your boyfriends...I bloody miss them and their prematurely 30-year-old acerbic wit...

(*side note: also weird how the actors playing their parents were probably about five years older than some of them)

5) ScarJo

Yes, I know her parents are Danish and Russian or something similar, but she is seen as the modern classic American sex symbol, and she is. At the top of my #girlcrush list... there are little who rival that blonde bombshell look. She makes some good films too... but to be honest I just stare at her face.

6) Hollywood and Films

This could be seen to be a tad wide perhaps.. but the USA is the centre of the film industry, the championer of the Talkie, the location of the famous Hollywood Hills. Some of the best movies in the world ever have been made there.. and some more of the best have been funded by money that comes from there.

I can't really write too much about films without being terribly sweeping and I love too many. So I'm not going to, but you get my point.

7) Martin Luther King

 “You may be 38 years old, as I happen to be. And one day, some great opportunity stands before you and calls you to stand up for some great principle, some great issue, some great cause. And you refuse to do it because you are afraid…. You refuse to do it because you want to live longer…. You’re afraid that you will lose your job, or you are afraid that you will be criticized or that you will lose your popularity, or you’re afraid that somebody will stab you, or shoot at you or bomb your house; so you refuse to take the stand.

Well, you may go on and live until you are 90, but you’re just as dead at 38 as you would be at 90. And the cessation of breathing in your life is but the belated announcement of an earlier death of the spirit.”

8) New York City

  There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless. Simone Beauvoir

I lived in New York when I was 19 in 2005 for three months with one of my best friends. 

We had a tiny apartment in East Village that was infested with mice, we had no TV and lived on Chips Ahoy and Reeses Pieces. By day we interned at an advertising company and a photography studio. At night and at the weekend, we walked and shopped and explored. We only walked though, we had no idea how to use public transport.. occasionally at night we'd shell for a taxi. We blagged our way with terrible fake ids and the most British accents we could manage into clubs: Duvet, Marquee, Bungalow 8 and then stood silently staring at everyone, impossibly glamourous American everyones. And there we were in our peasant skirts and coin belts weighed down by beads, as was the way.

We snuck into gallery openings and drunk all the free wine. One time we stayed up all night dancing in the W Hotel basement and then later in The Coffee Shop with some boys from New Jersey who bought us club sandwiches and champagne. 

Us in NYC, 2005

We stalked the Olsen Twins, devouring US Weekly and the like to try and guess where we could run in to them. We bought so many clothes that we couldn't afford. We stared at ground zero sadly. We watched live music in little dive bars in Greenwich Village and skipped down the street at midnight singing Downtown by Petula Clark..

The thing is... we just weren't aware. We knew we were lucky, but we weren't aware how lucky.

New York is beautiful city, an impossible city, a city that deafens you and hurls you around. It is in your face you see, but it's also layered and witty and clever. And small enought to really know. And big enough to hide. And you can just walk everywhere, which I love.

9) F Scott Fitzgerald and His Contemporaries

20th Century American literature has always been one of my favourite eras. I just loved what they were searrching for, Fitzgerald, Williams, Salinger, Miller, Walker, Kerouac, Lee and then later, Palahnuik and Morrison etc etc etc. It was so different to everything I ever read before when I started reading it at 16. It was so about the now and the future and little to do with the past... It was so about the pressures of success and who belonged. What made one acceptable or a decent person. Racism, Sexism, Capitalism it was all so exciting it burned me up inside and kept me searching for more from over-the-pond.

This may be another too-wide reaching paragraph. But it's true.

10) Computers and Social Media

Bill Gates; Steve Jobs; Marc Zuckerberg; Jack Dorsey... I salute them all...

Mean, Mean Girl: Lessons Learnt

Two weeks ago was the tenth anniversary of Mean Girls, a film which defined my late teenage years. I remember seeing it in the cinema and laughing out loud at the aptness of the observations and admiring Tina Fey's fearless humour. I don't remember anyone saying vagina in a teen movie before. Lohan was pre-rehab and Rachel McAdams had yet to be obsessed over by Ryan Gosling (who was he), no one knew Amanda Seyfried could sing. 

At our final school "prom"  when some friends and I were escaping from the five boys that had turned up (#allgirlsschoolproblems) and having a cheeky cigarette on a bench outside, I remember a girl from our year coming up to my two friends and I and saying after a while "You guys are kind of like the mean girls". 

I took this as a massive compliment. Who wouldn't want to be likened to those sophisticated American, follicly-gifted stuff of teenage dreams. In fact I don't think she was trying to mean.. And I don't think I was that much of a bitch at school. The truth though is that I loved been likened to attractive and popular girls, because despite my above-average conscience for a teenager, those things are what I strived for. I would have a very different attitude if someone said that to me now. I just don't want to be a Mean Girl any more, however much I might try and get down with the youth by talking about "ma bitches", on social media.

In reality, my generation learnt and in some cases (age 28), could still learn a lot from the truths of Mean Girls and this is perhaps why, it has stood the test of time unlike so many other "teen movies".

Here are the lessons that I learned:

1) "Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. Calling someone stupid doesn't make you any smarter. And ruining Regina George's life definitely didn't make me any happier. All you can do in life is try to solve the problem in front of you."

An early lesson for me... in fact one that, without sounding sanctimonious, I never really needed to learn. Perhaps this was because between the ages of 13-15, I was a full-blown geek/loser. I liked to read, I liked to do well at school revelling in the praise and the As. 

Reaping the usual teasing from this, I knew I never wanted to make anyone else feel like that. Why would berating and bullying others make you feel better about yourself. It is a quick fix that leaves one sick and regretful and possibly more insecure once the buzz wears off. This however is still a common tactic employed by the world over and the media in particular, mostly towards women. 

We need to solve our own internal problems, not try to drag others down to the lowness we may be feeling inside.

2) "Janis: [reading list the major cliques in high school] You got your freshmen, ROTC guys, preps, J.V. jocks, Asian nerds, Cool Asians, Varsity jocks Unfriendly black hotties, Girls who eat their feelings, Girls who don't eat anything, Desperate wannabes, Burnouts, Sexually active band geeks,

[a picture of herself and Damian come on screen]

Janis: the greatest people you will ever meet, and the worst. Beware of the plastics."

There are always cliques, though perhaps less pronounced than at the archetypal movie-version of an American high school and there are always mean girls.

Just remember, the only person who can really define you is yourself. Some people are always going to place a ring around your neck and label you as "xxxx", whether that is good or bad, but you know the truth. Avoid the mean girls if you can, but more importantly, respect who you are and what you stand for and you'll be fine. 

3) "Ex-boyfriends are off-limits to friends. That’s just, like, the rules of feminism.” 

Interesting definition of feminism aside, this is about honesty when it comes to men and women. Relationship are hard enough without worrying that one of your "friends" is going to make it harder. Having said that I don't believe that if you have let some one go to fly off into the universe without any issues that you should ban them from any relationships with your friends or acquaintances. However we should always be mindful of others and honest from the beginning. This way drama and hurt is usually avoided.

If you have no interest in someone anymore, don't stop them from being happy with another. On the otherside, don't assume someone is fine with you moving in on their ex without asking them. Basically this is another treat others how you would like to be treated, respect people. Weirdness will pass.

4) "There are two kinds of evil people in this world. Those who do evil stuff and those who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it.”

I was not brave as a teenager, I struggled enough to stand up for myself, having been haunted by a few years of being branded a geek, so when I eventually emerged from it, my whole being burned to be popular and accepted and so I avoided any confrontation. I was never the bully, but sometimes I ignored "mean girl" behaviour from people I was dying to impress. Nowadays this won't sit with me and I'm actually far more likely to defend someone treating another badly than myself even if that means saying something uncomfortable to somebody I love.Essentially this is also a selfish behaviour as I feel restless and upset if somebody I know is behaving in a way that I feel is cruel or unfair to another.

This is not an excuse to barge into anyone's business mind you, in a busybody fashion a la half the cast of Made in Chelsea, it is merely about listening to yourself and speaking up for what you know is right. This happens at work, in our social groups and in world issues. 

Note the famous Martin Niemöller quote re: the ride of Nazism and the German intellectuals who ignored so much:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out-- Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out-- Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-- Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me--and there was no one left to speak for me.

God Mean Girls is so intellectual.

5) "On Wednesdays we wear pink"

Don't ever feel you should wear something just because everyone else does. With my sizeable arse, I should never have worn Bolts (that's a noughties reference - they are basically massive men's mechanic jeans which one would tie chains to) for example. Nowadays I stick to this... eg you will never see me in a drop waist dress, no matter how pretty they are... They are made for the more boyish of figure ;) 

6) "I know having a boyfriend might seem like the only thing important to you right now, but you don't have to dumb yourself down in order for a guy to like you." 

As a teenager, I really couldn't talk to men (boys!) at all, I'd simply smile and stay quiet until I'd had enough cheap white wine that I might pluck up the courage to flutter my eyelashes enough that one might tongue me for an hour before I had to catch the last train home.

I'd like to think that at the ripe old age I am now, that everyone should know this, but I'm not so sure. I couldn't act "dumb blonde" anyway these days as I'm far too loud and opinonated and I couldn't shut up enought for a man who wanted a pretty ornament.

I also often refer to this article Give it up Giggly by the talented Sam Leith in Tatler, he writes:

"They are appealing to a masculinity that finds the prospect of female independence scary. The personality she contrives to display is all about him: she's there to adore him, to be completed by him, to orbit him like a giggling pink satellite...Yet, as I say, simpering still works on feeble-minded men. So, ladies, if that's the sort of man you hope to hook, knock yourselves out." 

Personally, I don't want a feeble-minded man and I'd rather be alone forever than act dumb to score one of them.

7)  "Well, I don't know who wrote this book, but you all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it ok for guys to call you sluts and whores."

I didn't comprehend the importance of this as a teenager. Calling someone a slut was a term of enderament or a jealous dig at someone who had probably had sex a couple of times when you were still a virgin. Again the all-girls boarding school didn't allow for any real "sluts".

Now I understand it as really being about the way that the entire world views women and trying to alter this with our own language. We shouldn't slut-shame or judge others or use derogatory language just because we may be having a jealous moment. If we do not know or care about the person involved then there's no need and we have no right to judge, if it is an acquaintance or god forbid a friend that we are calling this... we ought to accept that they are allowed to live their live however makes them happy even if we do not agree. And who makes you queen of the world. If they are not happy we should try to help them be happy. Walking around calling other women sluts, whores, bitches etc just affirms the ages-old female stereotypes that we work hard everyday to dispel. Think about it.

8) “Don't let the haters stop you from doing your thang."

Aside from the fact that Kevin G is a complete cult figure for the mean girl generation, along with the legendary Glen Coco, this final quote could be the most important. 

Teenagers are so led by disapproval, insecurity and the crowd mentaility. You have to learn that in life, not everyone is going to approve of you or help you or like you. Accept that. There will be those who criticise and mock and sabotage, get over it and get on with your path. Don't be a hater yourself either, don't be jealous or bitter or condescending.. move forward with your own life.

There will always be mean girls in the world.. and the ones that won't change will just get older and meaner and more bitter, so just breathe and ignore. You'll get further and be happier than they ever will.

Literary Role Models for Girls 1: Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lingdgren

This is a new series of posts that looks at literary icons for children, teens and tweens. Fed up of the idolisation of pop-stars and celebutantes who aren't always the best examples for the nations daughters (though I'm not saying they should be), I wanted to look at the girls and women that inspired me as a child and taught me that I could be anything I wanted.

Before Lisbeth Salander made everyone Scandimanic, there was one Pippi Longstocking; a nine-year-old with super human strength left to live alone by her sailor father with a horse and a monkey. Recogniseable for her ginger pigtails and freckles, she is rude and adventurous possessing little formal education, yet having all the necessary life skills to look after herself.

Whilst living alone in a multi- coloured mansion with only animals for company and no grown-ups to tell one what to do may be every child's dream, it is the spirit of Pippi that stays with you to adulthood. Sparky, prone to truth stretching and the antithesis of the traditional little girl ideals of dolls and cooking, she has been encouraging fun and good clean mischief for over sixty years.

The children came to a perfume shop. In the show window was a large jar of freckle salve, and beside the jar was a sign, which read: DO YOU SUFFER FROM FRECKLES?

"What does the sign say?” asked Pippi. She couldn’t read very well because she didn’t want to go to school as other children did.

"It says, ‘Do you suffer from freckles?’” said Annika. 

"Does it indeed?” said Pippi thoughtfully. “Well, a civil question deserves a civil answer. Let’s go in.” She opened the door and entered the shop, closely followed by Tommy and Annika. An elderly lady stood back of the counter. Pippi went right up to her. “No!” she said decidedly. 

"What is it you want?” asked the lady.

"No,” said Pippi once more.

"I don’t understand what you mean,” said the lady.

"No, I don’t suffer from freckles,” said Pippi.Then the lady understood, but she took one look at Pippi and burst out,

“But, my dear child, your whole face is covered with freckles!”

"I know it,” said Pippi, “but I don’t suffer from them. I love them. Good morning.” She turned to leave, but when she got to the door she looked back and cried, “But if you should happen to get in any salve that gives people more freckles, then you can send me seven or eight jars.” 

― Astrid Lindgren, Pippi Longstocking