I Was Too Busy Falling in Love in August to Blog... Ti Amo Italia

  

This is not a travelogue or an account of a holiday, it is a love letter and I haven’t written many of those.

I didn’t realise it would happen like this. I thought only romantics fell in love with you. Carb-sluts, middle-aged divorced women, those who fall in amore all the time like I would like to, perfectly turned out men - gay and straight, people who pick Romeo and Juliet as their favourite Shakespeare play. 

I’d been to Florence before twelve years ago and two years ago, and she had already flirted with my mind and my spirit. But I was there both times with my greatest friends in the world and I could be anywhere with them and soar with laughter and a satisfied soul. So I think I ignored it a little. I ignored the feeling walking the streets gave me, the calmness and yet awe I felt in the presence of the great religious architecture. My affinity in the worship of coffee.

And then I went back there and slowly it crept up on me.

You Don't Need Your Heart When You're Dead

When I was younger, the concept of organ donation freaked me out when I thought about it, which was rarely. Having been blessed in never knowing anyone that had had a transplant it was not something I'd addressed really; I'd blame youth, but I think I was just me being self absorbed.

And then recently I had to renew my drivers' licence and one of the questions asked by the online form was to please tick the box if you would like to be added to the NHS Organ Donor list. I ticked it and then I thought about it. A lot.

When my card arrived to say I had been successfully added, its accompanying letter asked me to inform my next of kin that I was a card carrier. And so this is me doing this and also sending out a plea.

I am not really sure why organ donation is not opt out to be honest rather than opt in... I don't care what religion you are, most religions - if not all - preach helping others. However, not associating with any fomal religion myself, that is not my argument. Here it is...

We live our lives giving away parts of ourselves every day, some to people who deserve it and some who do not. We give away our hearts to lovers who leave us and those who become their caretakers till the end. We throw away our thoughts and our speech carelessly every day to companies and corporations we work for, or necessarily use these solely human gifts to go about our day to day life. We burn energy from our muscles in exercise and moving about. We hear everything that passes us, without prejudice. In youth these gifts seem unlimited and we do not always choose to use them wisely, perhaps until middle age moves to old age and they falter and we realise that we would like to carefully select - as much as we can - what we utilise them for.

This leads to time, our most precious, most limited resource which we give away everyday, even though we still need it. We give it with joy to people we love and to pursuits we enjoy, we give it with reluctance to perfunctory tasks, with resignation (sometimes) to the grinds of everyday life and careers. Often we give it to the world, to people we don't know, to charities, to good causes, to those in need, to help others even if if we never see the outcome. We often lose it uncontrollably when we are angry or sad or bad. We numb it with alcohol, food, drugs and television. We wish it away, we wait for the weekend, for the summer, for Christmas. CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU. When we examine our lives we muse on how to give our time better, to be of more value.

All of this is human and it's wonderful and it's part of what it is to have a human life. But tell me this, why, if you are happy - for the most part - to give away all these things when you still have need of them, are you reluctant to give away your bodily organs etc when you have not?

I hope as everyone does that I do not die young, but if I do, I would like my body to be a free for all for anyone who needs it. Take anything you want. I believe they are unlikely to want my lungs as I have smoked for ten years and even though I am going to give up this year, I still think they are unlikely to be transplant worthy. Other than this I would like to give everything away with no conditions. Obviously I would prefer if they went to "worthy" people, but if my liver is given to an alcoholic (tbf that might be pretty ropey too ;), or my kidneys to an ex-con then that is the way things go. Maybe they will take it and it might make their life so much better and the rest of me can be burnt and spread around the globe.

To be honest, I would just like to finish on you ALL signing up to the organ donation website.... PLEASE

....

Little Scraps of Wisdom

Yesterday was Father's Day and I didn't see my father. I had just got back from a week's holiday in Devon and he was away. I texted him late in the evening, but I haven't given him a card or present. I struggle every year on both Mother's Day and Father's Day with buying gifts, because how do you really say thank you for a lifetime... or even for a year. How is there only one day to express gratitude for everything they have given you.

Last year on his birthday I wrote a piece on Things My Father Has Taught Me (So Far), something I recycled and added to in a speech I gave at his recent 60th birthday party. This Father's Day, I was at a loss as to what I could write to explain how grateful I am, then I came across this quote online... 

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”

― Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum

It has inspired me to try to write a poem on these little scraps... so here it is... and Happy Father's Day, Daddy - a day late - I know...

Little Scraps of Wisdom

Safety is the best feeling you can give someone, safety and calm;

When I had nightmares you took me under your arm.

And now when I speak to others, I try to help them feel as secure

In the moment, the conversation, in themselves.

For fear disarms us.

Little gestures of kindness that I never acknowledged at the time

Punctuated my days with you. 

And now I try to be generous everyday too.

You never let me win any game, even aged five

And debated with me even then.

Now I'm a fighter.

Our conversations went on for hours, still do.

So if you didn't have time to finish it, you wouldn't start it.

A lesson I'm still learning.

You were proud of me when I did well, but not sycophantic;

You knew what I was capable of, even as young as I once was.

I loved to hear tales about your travels about all the people around the world,

That you'd met, that you'd spoken to.

You made me dream of travelling far and wide across the earth.

And you never thought you were better, so neither did I.

Despite the privileges afforded to me.

Bad language wasn't clever you said, it's an easy way out.

You have so much at your disposal, no need to sound like a lout.

There's never an easy way to achieve something great.

Whether money or success or respect, you have to graft.

You did graft.

Making the effort with family often seemed like a chore to me.

You respected the bonds of history.

And I loved having all those people around,

And I love to love.

You always have opinions on everything, with fire in your eyes.

Yet you told me of how you were dyslexic and shy.

I never saw it when I was young;

Except when you asked me to spell things.

To me you seemed like a lion, loved by all.

Yet you never made me feel small.

*******

Apologies for the lack of posts. I have fallen of the waggon in my #100DaysofWriting. Getting back on it now...

 

I Mean... Writer's Block

 

Is it writers block or is it laziness, this feeling that overwhelms my fingertips. They buzz like they want to work, but they're disconnected from my brain which seems to have nothing.

Nothing.

Life is full of wonders it really is. I know that. My eyes say that. Meditation class, yoga, books, nature has taught me that. Life is FULL. Yet, when I want to buzz with the wonder and my hands are ready, my brain is reluctant; like a petulant teen, it says "No, not today. Today we have nothing for you. We're just going to lie here and muse about what we want to eat later..."

Is it laziness though? Or is it self-esteem? Something is telling me that however much my finger tips buzz and I write... it will not be good enough, maybe that's why I stop.

Or maybe it will be good enough and that is what I am frightened of. 

Who knows?

Are you good enough at your job?

If you are a writer do you write enough?

The other thing is the mood... I am trying to write a sad scene but my brain is elated, full of happiness, full of life... it can't write the solemness for this passage... or it is scared of it...

Or the opposite.

Which is worse...

I am melancholic.

How can I write anything but sadness, depression, anxiety... how?

But a good writer - (says my ego) - a good writer could write all the time, anything they are - or they are not - feeling...

"NO", argues my soul, "no", it's better when you are soothed. Are you soothed?

Go to bed, talk, laugh; soothe your soul darling...

Your writers block is not laziness, it is you fighting yourself darling, that is what it is.

You are not listening....

Listen, please.

It will get easier if you do...

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, Day 21

Four Weddings and Added Instagram Hashtags

When I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral as a young teenager, I yearned for the time of weddings, for country houses and London receptions and all best friends having LOLs over champagne. I couldn’t wait for the romance and the Mini Coopers and the hats. Now I have officially entered wedding life season, here are a few observations that I would like to make about how my childhood dream has been destroyed...: 

1) They do not warn you about the money. I know everyone complains about this... but FFS. 

Starting with 

A) The Hen/Stag Do: It is in the South of France with MOH e-mailing everyone “Hi Guys! Please all transfer me £500.00 all-in for Buttercup’s hen. Also please all prepare a stand-up comedy routine / original song / handmade quilt for Buttercup as a gift. Will be such LOLS. Also send me stories about Buttercup.” – I don’t know any fucking stories she’s an old work colleague that I didn’t much like. My only stories about her revolve around her lunch choices and the occasional time she’d get pissed on a work night out and flirt with the intern.

Things Left Unsaid to a Lover 1: I Wish You Were More Intelligent

I wrote this as a a monologue response to a playwriting workshop I did today. We were asked to write down as many "things left unsaid to a lover" in a minute and then we picked one to write something on in ten mins. Mine was, I Wish You Were More Intelligent... Maybe you'll see a version of it or the sentiment as part of a play one day.

I'm tempted to turn it into a series... There are many things in life left unsaid to lovers...

"I used to find it endearing the way that you are. That you laugh at everything, that you'll do anything your mates tell you in the pub. Just for the hell of it. I used to watch and think, there's my puppy. Now I think you're like the court's fool.

I watched you throw up, you were so pissed the other day because you downed 10 jäger bombs cos someone asked you to. It wasn't even like you lost a bet. And then you didn't sleep all night because obviously... And I didn't sleep because you didn't and there you were vomit-scented and caffeine-fitting beside me..

I think your friends take advantage of you. 

I wish that you would talk to me about REAL THINGS, you know like art, literature, politics, the news. I don't think we can survive on sex and mutual pisshead friends anymore, I just don't.

You said you've only read one book since school.

I don't think it's bad that I want more. I don't. I'm not an intellect snob. You're so kind and you make me feel safe and you are so beautiful... But it's not enough for me.

I just wish you were more intelligent..."

Ok, I'm Ready...

I think I'm ready now, finally. I have never really been before, but I think I am now because I know what I want and what I don't want. I've made those distinctions.

I've spend time having loveless flirtation and sensual (and not so sensual encounters). I've dated and dismissed many a man (and boy). I've had a few short "relationships". Mostly I've been afraid of it, to be honest, afraid of what somebody else would do to me. 

Maybe it's because I wasn't really sure about myself, whether I like myself all that much, whether I was who I was meant to be. The thought of blind and internet (sorry app- what is this the 00s) dating just sent me into a spin of fear and insecurity that they might reflect back at me the flaws I had already outlined in myself.

I was never one of those people who dated to fill a hole or to feel more secure and steady in a situation, because for me, putting yourself into that vulnerable position of being half of two rather than half of one was not something that settled me. In fact it sent me careering off into outer space, heart thumping head-spinning, ecstatic then anxious, crying with laughter, then just crying. I didn't want this. I wanted a steady ground.

I am ready now, because I've realised what I want and that steadiness often comes from within. I'm ready now because I am happier with who I am.

So if you know anyone...

Kind but not weak. Compassionate, likes animals and nature. Reads, please. Interested in all ideas even if they don't agree with them. Doesn't talk over people who are quieter than them. Respect's people of all ages, sexes, colours, nationalities, backgrounds, creeds, educated or not. Realises we are all the same, WE ARE ALL THE SAME. Can take (and make) a joke. Does not practice bitterness. Loves to laugh, to make others laugh, the moment of laughter. Wants fun in life. Responsible, but not anal. Understands me, lets me be me, even if that is odd. Intelligent, not necessarily academically or bookish, but bright, sparky, interested. Likes talking and listening. Likes long conversations about the world and what it means... but can tug me in and make me feel safe too if I drift off into the stratosphere. Healthy attitude towards mind, body and soul. Appreciates and indulges in the sensual pleasures of life, but does not gorge on them. Smiles at people even if it makes them look stupid. Tactile. Reassuring. Shares their problems. Lets me look after them sometimes. Not scared of their feelings. Quiet, but also loud. Trustworthy and trusting. Has passions and interests. Would be a good father. I want to find him beautiful, but that doesn't mean anyone else needs to. Makes my friends smile and feel warm inside. Interested in my family. Open-minded. Likes the sea and the mountains and travelling. As flawed as humans are. Never thinks he knows it all.

Do you know anyone like that? I don't yet and this list may seem unrealisitc. But I have no stipulations for money or looks or background or anything else. None of that, just these things.

I'm just putting that out there.

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, #Day12.

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.

To Valentine's

Too-red roses squashed on the pavement,

Like they've been painted by Alice's cards. 

Sticky chocs, and socks, and the scent of

What someone has called perfume on the breeze.

Shops are shades of pink and red,

The heart and the flower rule the court.

Stars and crosses cast aside

Whilst eggs are patiently waiting.

Those entangled with another,

Feel pressure and pleasure in parts.

Whilst those who stand alone

Shrug or ignore, burn or laugh.

Men and women both

Revert to forgotten stereotypes.

Restaurants pawning regulated romance, packed.

Though the world seems to ring with rejecting the day.

Silly, so silly, so silly they say.

Love is not one day.

So American with vivid white teeth is St Valentine,

A result of Cupid's arranged marriage with Simon Cowell.

We hug ourselves a little tighter,

Those of us alone.

It's like New Year, I hate New Year.

Yet though true, it doesn't numb us to it.

Leave the cards and three-for-one singles cocktails

At a damp west-end bar

And whether a half of two or one whole one. 

Accept it as a day to remind us of all love.

For yourself, for others, for life. 

Just don't start with a paper cut-out heart. 

The 12 Best Presents

I was going to write a post about My Forever Christmas Gifts; a typical seasonal salivate over "things I have always wanted" or would feel better and more valued as a person if I had. The list was a lusty, lingering, drooling dive into every Christmas gift guide produced by every single broadsheet, glossy magazine and/or blog/Instagram account of whatever twenty/thirty-something is stripping their unattainable life bare this week and making us all believe in the magic of the x-brand-life. The beautiful list included things like a Burberry Mac or monogrammed scarf, huge bottles of Jo Malone perfume (plus matching candle), Chanel bag, Liz Earle's entire range.. Alex Monroe jewelry. There were more considered forever items in there too... Books, flowers, art... (My one most favourite thing ever would be a personalised art piece from God's Own Junk Yard- just in case you wondered)

But I didn't write that piece because recently I have been thinking about what this blog is meant to be and how to make it better and more true to me and the place it came from when I started writing it. And really despite the title, it was about life-enrichment and happiness - mine and hopefully those reading as well as wider issues in the world that would affect those things. So whether I'm writing about a play, a bar or off on some feminist rant. I want it to be for a good thing; to make people happy, to make them think or just to make myself think.

So that decadent post.. That wouldn't be me thinking about anything except things I cut out of magazines in my early teens. It would also encourage my inclination to sheath difficult considerations and decisions with retail blow outs and getting high on NEW NEW NEW. Plus there are other blogger who do it farrr better than I would.

So instead I'm writing a different kind of gift list. This list is what I think humans really want for Christmas and for life. I've though about what I want, what I think my friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances and just general humanity would really want if they looked deep inside and weren't afraid to ask. Best of all, to give these things are mostly free or if not the cash cost is minimal. Mostly it's your commitment. Also, perhaps try to give the ones that don't come most naturally to you.. Because then it is a true gift, an effort made - there's a reason they give a prize for that at school. Let me know what you think and if there is anything you would add... I hope, sincerely that it is not too much of schmaltzy, American vibe.. But sue me if it is as it is Christmas and I love Miracle on 34th Street.

1) #LOLs

The Internet is awash with things that people have created to make each other laugh and ask anyone and one of the qualities that they value in others above all is a shared sense of humour.. So why do we not make the most of that EVERY day.

I'm not talking about the brash laddish humour performed in a group situation to win banter points, but the deep hearty laugh, the shared giggle that we can bestow on those we know the best.

One of my best friends has this gift, she always just wants to make people laugh, even when it's just the two of you and she laughs more when she sees that lift in another, plus she thinks about the individual and what they'd find amusing. 

I don't think about this all the time, I've never thought it my duty to lift the spirits of another in that way. I am more of a dry sarcastic comment type and if I have a day where I feel the bloody world is on my shoulders I wait for another to pick up the humour. 

But give the gift of a LOL or two and you'll find that you're lightened too.

2) Time

Who has enough of it, really. I don't, no one I know seems to. Every one would like more of it.

Help someone with a task so that it takes them half the time or offer to do something for them, so they are gifted some time to do something else that they really love to do.

Babysit, do their laundry, take a pile of work off their desk. Because giving your time really, sweetie, it's the most powerful currency you have. Realise that, for you and others.

3) A Conversation / Listen

Some people are good listeners in life, they have the knack to sit back and let someone else really talk without interruption or fear or worry that you've used up all your time on this round. Become one of those people, listen, think and consider what someone else has said without waiting to put your two pence in about your hella-fucking day or how you COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH/FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME. I'm not saying don't consider it offer your opinion, but really listen trust yeah, what are they actually saying to you...

4) A Skill

We all have them, whether we know it or not, yet how often do we give them to others without waiting for a payment or a favour in return. Without giving our "gift" because we know we'll get something back.

Some people know everyone and chat well and can introduce people to others who may help them/love them/employ them.. Some people can build or restore or fix things. Some can write, some can paint, some can occupy children for hours on end. Maybe you know about gardening or you've travelled to a destination they are going to. Or you can organise or file stuff or clean, you take great photographs, can shape eyebrows, play the guitar or wrap presents like they've been done professionally.

Whatever you can do. I'm sure someone else can't and would be grateful for it.

5) Ego Boost

Browsing Pinterest the other day I came across an affordable present hack board and one of the things on it was a series of sealed letters. There were six I believe.. alll for one person and each of them had something written in the address field. Open me when you feel lonely/when you don't like yourself/when you are tired/when you hate the day. Someone had carefully constructed each letter for an individual ready to make them feel better, to appreciate themselves and praise them for their decisions when they most need it. A beautiful thing for someone you love..

Yah, you London hipsters might have trouble with this one, thinking it the most distinctly non-British of things, to put out onto the page. But it is your voice remember and you can include as much sarcasm and fucking swearing as you want as long as it does the job...

Or you don't have to do this. But just boost someone's ego in some way. You'll know the best way I'm sure if maybe they'd fucking laugh at you if you gave them a bunch of letters. Trust them with a task, ask for their help or say nice things about them to someone else. Anything that tickles their inner human spirit, maybe focus on something that they're not often told.

6) Sleep...

A duvet day, an extra couple of hours. A more peaceful way to fall asleep. A candle, a playlist, a story. Use money or don't. But anyone is grateful for extra sleep.

7) Pay Attention to What They Care About

I know we do this with bought gifts once a year but maybe it would be better to do it more regularly with though and small actions. A conversation, an extra question, a photograph, a link, time out of your schedule to learn about something/someone that to be honest you couldn't really give a shit about. Let them talk, go with them to something or organise a trip. Remember the names they told you about, the boring situation, the new thing that usually you would glaze over during in conversation. Make an effort to care.

8) Reliability or Routine

A much underestimated gift is this. People think about it mostly in terms of older people or jobs, (Must visit Granny every last Sunday of the month etc) but it is a powerful thing. The sheer stability and therefore joy we can feel when we can count on something is immeasurable. Many people don't have it, if you know someone who doesn't, maybe try to give them that.

It is easy to promise and cancel, harder to commit. Think about what you in your life know you can rely on at all times and think about how you can give that to someone who has less.

9) A Chance

Harder to define. Some sit on the edge of the maybe or the someday or the it might happen, waiting for a chance. Some have no chances and never have. If you have any power to give someone a small chance in life, whether that is a job, a room, a place on a team or a chance as a friend or lover. Life can be made on the little chances babe.. It can.

10) A Little Push.. / Encouragement

You Know those people who always seem on the edge, who don't get off their arses and fix their problems or somehow definitely can't on their own.

If you have any strength to be a bossy fucking bastard and make them or the patience to be a sensitive attendant who can gently guide them in the right direction, then do it. Because if they get anywhere or feel like they've achieved anything, you will reap the gifts right back.

11) Respect

Sometimes I think we forget to respect the people we care about. If they have been in our lives for a long time, it is easy to box them and to dismiss their little quirks and opinions. But respecting someone else for who they are, for what they say or do is such a dual pleasure and people bloom under it. If you find someone difficult to respect sometimes, take a step back, breathe and think about where they are coming from and what you can respect them for.

None of us are better than anyone else, even if we all have different gifts.

12) Consideration / Love

Perhaps the most saccharine of the list and the hardest to define. Consideration is not simply how we would want to be treated - for we are all different are we not - but how they would.

Love is unconditional, but if you love someone, it's the time of year to consider if you are doing all the things on this list for them. I love a lot of people, but I can be a selfish dick sometimes, far too concerned with constantly assessing my own happiness and life goals. So I'm making it my mission over this festive period and into 2015 to consider those I love and if I'm doing everything I can to show them how fucking grateful I am to have them in my life.

Merry Christmas Internet, hope I didn't choke you with the maudlin sentimentality of it all...

Love, Please Read the Signs...

Have you ever had one of those days that pricks you, pinches you, pokes you around; life's not slapping you in the face, it's just cruelly teasing you like a small child would another, pushing your boundaries until you feel like crumbling up into the foetus position and weeping with the fatigue of it. I just had one of those days/24 hours and I hated it. I hated it mostly because my usual mantra is to rise above the angst and the first world problems and the stupid day-to-day shit. I like to play the part of positive and enthused even when I don't feel that even a little bit. Because I used to be a bit of a melancholy, cynic at times and I did not enjoy it one little bit.

But today.. Aah today got to me and I did not enjoy it. I wanted to cry and complain and beat my fists, beat away the feeling of not being good enough. Because surely it could not be my fault this prickly day. However, following a little bit (a lot) of thought and deep breaths, I realised this prickling, this poking by life is just it giving me a little shove, a little push, a little bit of a hard time..

Move it's telling me, move. There are things you're not happy with. You're ignoring some things. PAY ATTENTION to the signs, to yourself. 

If we listened to ourselves and our reactions to things daily, we would have a clear map of where we would be happiest going (joy is in the journey, you will always be on one). We'd have Google maps and City Mapper and Uber metaphorically routed out in our brains.

Why are we resisting, why are we angry, why are we upset? Think about yourself love, think about what you want.

When I get in these muddles, I try to think  like I'm talking to my best friend whom I love and respect and not myself who I often berate. It's part of what Zen Buddhism teaches really, be mindful, be mindful of yourself and the moment. Don't over react or rage or squash it. Zen teaches you to have a still mind. A balanced mind at all times, because external circumstances should not affect your happiness if you are truly balanced inside.

But whilst we are trying to gain a balanced life, a happy mind, sometimes we need to give into the tears and the anger and the frustration; let it roll over you, indulge in it for just a little bit and then asks yourself why and move forward... Make decisions. Eschew practicality for a moment and then think about what it is you really want out of life and if your current path is taking you there.

Because love, you see, as countless cliches claim, life is now and you are living it and if you have these things that we should all be grateful for every day, namely food, warmth, clothes, lack of real fear, literacy, anyone who loves you- thanks to Marc and Angel for that link- but if you have these things.. you don't need be facing daily taunting and teasing and struggles with yourself.

Put an ear to the ground, think and listen and make a new choice tomorrow. Change things that need to be changed to make you happy, because only you have the power to, love. Only you.

Stop Schizing Out You Retard: The #ThinkSpeakMind Mantra

Why is Derogatory Language Towards the Mentally Ill and Disabled Still Accepted?

In the media we are constantly hearing about instances of misuse of language that offends. Whether this is racist insults or homophobic slanders, misuse of words such as rape, sexist jibes etc; any celebrity or politician or public persona that slips is plastered all over the front page and decimated by the twitter-sphere whether their use of this language was purposeful or not. 

I abhor cruel, offensive language. I also think people should be careful when they are using powerful words e.g. rape as a metaphor or to enhance a feeling. Case in point Charlize Theron or Brooks Newmark. It trivialises the awful reality of the word. Language is powerful and we should be aware of how we use it. The point I am raising is why we do not place the same value on slang used to describe those with mental disorders, learning difficulties or those who are mentally ill. 

In the last six months, I have often heard each of the below used at least once informally and unashamedly to describe situations:

- She is such a schizo, she was fine one minute ago 

(someone who changes mood quickly)

- Stop having an epi, we'll sort it 

(To someone who is getting very wound up) - Epilepsy is not even a mental illness or learning difficulty, it's a neurological disorder but it is used in a similar vein

- God, I'm such a retard / so autistic

(after making a stupid mistake / being a bit oddly numerate)

- You're such a spaz

(to someone who has tripped clumsily) 

- I'm going mental, seriously

(a lot and I've been guilty of this one as casual adjective)

- You look fucking rexy, amazing 

(to someone who has lost weight)

- Are you being a bit "special"

(to someone who is struggling to complete a task)

- Can you wipe the surface after, sorry I'm so OCD

(after cooking or using a kitchen)

I could go on. The thing Is people don't react to these things like they would if I said "You look so gay", or "Stop being such a big girl" (said to a man) or any other offensive comment.

Why is this? Having grown up with a sister with significant learning difficulties, I have spent my life wincing every time people casually say retarded. I usually don't react angrily to it because I don't believe that it helps -(unless someone is saying something offensive about people with learning difficulties)- if it's used casually, I tend to ignore it. At the very most, I'll ask them softly not to use that language. I understand that it has become a colloquialism, however I think now is the time to change that.

People who are mentally ill or mentally disabled (very different things too obviously, I'm aware), who have the conditions that the words are referring to are not being stupid or overreacting or behaving in an unnecessary way like the slang insinuates. It is not a choice, nor does it make them any less than anyone else. I know that the world still struggles to understand mental health, learning difficulties and those that are not "normal" but I believe we really we need to lead by example and change this way of speaking as we have done for racist, sexist or homophobic vocabulary. It is important.

This is not about being politically correct, but being humans*. Because to understand and to learn and to empathise, we need to adjust our expression and remember that like everybody, people with these conditions are sisters, brothers, fathers, mothers, friends, colleagues and they have sisters, fathers, brothers, fathers, mothers, friends and colleagues. In fact most people know someone who has a mental illness or know someone who has been born with a mental disability.

I'm starting a movement, not of blame and finger pointing but of re-education and I will be using the hashtag #thinkspeakmind

When I talk about my sister, I generally say she has Special Needs because she does, but she's also just special and I mean that in the wonderful sense of the word, of being an amazing, incredible individual who just happens not to have the same abilities as others. Seeing and hearing that word used derogatorily is like a burn every time.

I've also known people who've suffered with mental illness and again the casual use of language does not help and in some cases can cause shame in talking to anyone about it.

#ThinkSpeakMind

Spread it about, tell me your stories and help people to understand.

*I've most probably slipped up in my reference to something even in this short post..

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.

What's Happn'd to Me? Another F***king Dating App...

It all started with a column in the Saturday Telegraph... A new dating app they said... From Paris they said... So so much better than Tinder they said. A tap and a click and an entering of my iTunes password (why when it's free BTW) and here I am reordering my pictures and waiting. Waiting to cross paths with someone.... 

The premise behind Happn is that it's for those lost chances in love. A man on the tube that you haven't the courage to talk to. A woman you admired whilst on your lunch break. It brings up on a feed everyone you cross paths with, as well as mentioning when and where you crossed paths with them. Once you click on your profile you can see further photos and anything they might have written a about themselves.

Like Tinder you can then cross or heart them and it only informs you if you have both clicked on the heart because the it's a crush and you can message each other. If you cross them they won't come up in your feed again nor you in theirs. Oh there's also charms which you can send or receive from people who you haven't hearted and it's basically like an old school Facebook poke. Hi I'm here, look at me! 

I'm quite enjoying the amount of quite beautiful men that I apparently pass every day. I have yet to see evidence of them if I'm honest... It also terrifies me that it has a function which ensures that it measures how many times you have crossed their path. I have crossed path with Marco, the bar manager at a pub v near work five times. Except I haven't, I've not been in, I've just walked past. 

Location accuracy is not my only issue with Happn, I'm a little worried about the stalking possibilities. People you've not even glanced at on your feed, yet not been disturbed enough to X could just longer there reappearing, working out your route as you happily go about life and basically stalking you..

So why is it still on my Home Screen after one week, in all its blue love hearted, irksomely spelt glory? Because basically I'm a romantic. I love the thought of someone admiring you from a far and you them and it all working out. 

Think about the potential. If Cinderella had Happn, she wouldn't need no glass slipper bitches... Plus I'm kinda addicted.. 

PS: The only person I've hearted ergo immediate crush was when I was on a weekend away in New Forest. He was 25 and farmery and unable to stalk me... clearly still got issues.

I Love You: Secret Theatre Show 5

Basically, I am not really sure what I am going to do when the Secret Theatre series is over and I don't even know when that will be because it's all secret and that. I have developed a full blown fangirl obsession with the shows and the company. It's a proper crush... After I saw Show 5 last Thursday, I proceeded to:

1).Tweet the Lyric immediately and asked them for the soundtrack so I could play it on my iPod on my commute

2). Google, Google, Google for signs of Show 6? And for news of the tour...

3). Stalk all the actors and actresses I could find on Twitter and try and find out which ones were single/might want to make new friends/would potentially slip me a tongue when pissed/stalkable in local bars as I only work in Chiswick. ;) #lol Because I love them all.

4). Also stalk the writers..as a writer and a wannabe playwright.. I need some of what they're drinking.

5). Work out when I could possibly see it again...

6). Dance to Proud Mary until I fell over

You see everything changed for me after Show 5... After I had been to see Show 3 and Show 4 (read the reviews, they are pretty sensible compared to this one) I knew I was a Secret Theatre convert and that now I had to see every one. I was even annoyed about the fact I missed one and two... (Though just mildly irked, now I am enraged).

 

A Series of Increasingly Impossible Acts - what Show 5 is otherwise known as - has left me all teenage and trembly and happy and light. It's not as emotionally powerful as Show 3 or as clever as Show 4 but it taps in to humanity and fear and failure and friendship and love. 

Show 5 is set in the Lyric rehearsal room and every night there is a different protagonist... a typical Secret Theatre twist which I believe (here is a tiny bit of sensible critique stuff here) must keep it alive and kicking every night, full of the energy of the unknown... The audience pick it out, so they can't even cheat... not that they would need to as they're all so talented (I told you, massive fangirl)

My protagonist was the fabulous Katherine Pearce (Kat) who I knew was talented and able to transform herself, from the previous two productions. In this, she was I imagine a played up version of herself. Everyone else was supporting in more or less roles. Everything centered round Kat and her trials, tribulations and difficult times in life and love and friendship. 

Some of the sketches were more narrative: sex, first kiss/ first date, falling in and out of love and being destroyed by it, cheating. Others were more metaphoric or symbolic: an obstacle course that was undertaken several times throughout the play at first alone and then helped by the whole cast; an odd sort of shrink session; a wrestling game involving fears and stripping. A shiveringly warming version of Sincerely by The Moonglows sung by Hammed Annimashaun, a dance to Proud Mary which I really had to force myself not to join in with... Each little excerpt bringing tears, laughter and recognition from the audience.

90 minutes shot by and I wanted more and I wanted to see all of the cast members take the protagonist role, because I felt like they were giving us a slice of themselves and a themselves that everyone in the company knew too. The Secret Theatre group have created something together.. and all these individuals have joined to create and perform it and they've got to know each other.

When I was a child and teenager, I used to be in all the school plays... used to love the rehersals, the comraderie, the thrill and then after the final performance for at least a week after I would cry and cry and feel miserable that I could never get that feeling back or work and act with those people again - not in that exact same circumstance... It was like a small piece of magic and then gone. Then after a week I'd forget about it.

I hope these lot never do.

Secret Theatre Show 5, The Lyric, Hammersmith

Now until May 29th


Here is the Soundtrack for Show 5


Here are The Secret Theatre Crew:

Nadia Albina @NadiaAlbina -

Hammed Animashaun @HamzDaActor

Cara Horgan

Leo Bill @SerpicLeo

Matti Houghton

Adelle Leonce @AdelleLeonce

Katherine Pearce @KattiAnn

Billy Seymour @SeymourBilly

Sergo Vares

Steven Webb @MrStevieWebb

Love them all <3

Images are (c) The Secret Theatre Group