Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got. Janis Joplin

One of my good friends grew up in a very deprived area of South London and attended one of its roughest schools where she was bullied relentlessly. She left school, literally battered and bruised, as soon as she could, without any qualifications, and became pregnant at 17. Once her son started school she began volunteering in his school and was eventually offered a job as a teaching assistant. Today she is head of a service in an outer London local authority in one of the most deprived areas of the country. The other day, discussing my being short listed for yet another job that I feel is actually way out of my league, I asked her why I keep putting myself through this. 'Because you have something to prove - just like me' she said.
 
Lying in bed that night thinking about what she said, I realised that, sadly, she was right.

The questions I now ask myself are why? Who to? And how do I change my thinking? Because constantly feeling inadequate is incredibly stressful and damaging.
 
Like me she wasn't really expected to do well academically. Her parents, like my mum, just wanted her to get a job when she left school. She got a job as a cashier in a bank and I started a hairdressing apprenticeship - neither role demanding much of the grey matter. Although we didn't know each other at the time we both ended up working in our children's schools and we both came to realise that we were just as 'clever' as the young middle class people who were teaching our children and, in some cases, even 'cleverer'.
 
Yet, each of us in our respective school, washed out the paint pots, sharpened the pencils and heard the children read. Over the years, as our skills and knowledge increased, we became familiar with how children learn and how to make that learning interesting. We gained experience in how to manage behaviour and how to inspire some of the most needy children in the class. We applied for any training that was available and happily took on new challenges. Yet no matter how much we learnt, how much experience we had we were never 'good enough'. We didn't have the degrees and the certificates that proved we were capable and would have ensured we were paid a decent wage and had some job security.
 
My friend, after being made to feel inadequate one time too many, eventually left to work in a local authority and it was there that her intelligence, flair and experience was finally recognised and she rose through the ranks to her current position of service manager where she has to manage a large multidisciplinary team of front line workers, she has to plan strategically for change and she is in charge of a multi million pound budget with a huge responsibility to the tax payer. She now feels she has 'proven' herself although she still yearns for a degree.

Schools are very hierarchical institutions and it took me a bit longer than my friend to realise I was undervalued, and along the way I managed to pick up a degree, but even then I was still looked down on by the professionals. Some in a very obvious way and some unintentionally. 
 
Since leaving the school job (madly enjoyable most of the time but with no hope of progression and paid peanuts) I have climbed the corporate ladder and have my sights set on a new position that I have little hope of getting, mainly because the fact that I'm not good enough may be picked up and, in addition, several of the other applicants are teachers - even an ex head teacher is applying. Over the last few years I have applied for several jobs and, after several intense and difficult interviews, have been offered them all except one. Each time I think 'Well. that's that. Can't quite believe they bought all that and I'm going to work hard and stay in this job until they either get rid of me or I retire.' And then another job, a bit further up the ladder and paying a bit more money presents itself and I find myself stressing over the application form. Then the anxious wait to see if I have been short listed begins followed by preparing for the interview presentation and rehearing my STAR stories. All the time thinking 'why the fuck? I love my job and can live on the money I earn so why. the. fuck. am I putting myself through this?' Well now I know.
 
I have something to prove.
 
So now I need to figure out who I have something to prove to.
 
My friend has something to prove to her bullies. To family members who wrote her off for getting pregnant while still in her teens. To the teachers whose classroom she washed paint pots. To the ex teachers and education psychologists she now manages, to everyone she knows who has a degree and to herself.
 
I was never bullied at school. True, I was never the most popular girl in class until, in what is now known as Year 6, I had my hair cut in a 'feathered style', which teemed with my suede hotpants, meant I was suddenly a bang on trend 11 year old and from that day on all the boys and girls wanted to be my friend. This is likely to be why hair and clothes have always been a passion of mine. I suppose this also fed into the assumption I was just a dumb blonde. Anyway I have no enemies from childhood and no old school friends I need to impress. As I'm still in touch with the ones I liked and, as they know how difficult my childhood was, I think they are impressed I'm not a druggie or an alcoholic.

I don't think I am trying to prove anything to my mother. I grew up being told by her I was useless, thick, ugly and unwanted. I don't believe any of those things and I know my mother well enough to know that I could never please her or make her proud. She just doesn't have those functions. She is damaged somehow and is never going to be fixed and I gave up years ago trying to find the switch that, if I flicked it to the 'on' position would make her a nicer person.

Am I trying to prove it to the teachers I used to work with?

Funnily enough I am now managing one of the teachers I once sharpened pencils for. Is she impressed? Is she fuck!
 
I have a degree. Not a great one - sort of lost interest in it in my final year as life as I knew it fell apart, but a degree nonetheless and, sadly, degrees are CV currency at the moment.
 
So I think the person I need to prove something to is me.
 
If that is the case shouldn't I just be able to look in the mirror and say something self affirming?

'Remember, you are a beautiful person in your own unique way. And you are valuable, worthy and lovable.'

Hmmm. Not my cup of tea.

Interesting article this month on self-affirmation in Huff -

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/02/self-affirmation-problem-solving-chronic-stress_n_3194437.html
 
It may help that I have recognised, through my friends comment, that I am at risk of chasing something I don't actually want just to prove to myself I am 'good enough'. It would be more sensible for me to try some Buddhist Affirmations rather than expose myself.
 

Today and every  day, I am committed to my meditation practice.

Today my inner lotus blossoms, as I release attachments and turn my face to the sun.

Today I seek enlightenment. Today I experience enlightenment. Today I am enlightened

Today I clearly see the beauty in a flower and my whole world changes.

Today I am practising right view in all my thoughts, words, and actions.

Today I am practising right intention with all my thoughts, words, and actions.

Today I am practising right speech with every word I say.

Today I am practising right action with everything I do.

I am the very embodiment of love and compassion in all my interactions with others.

Breathing in, I feel peace. Breathing out, I am peace.

The following link promises to be even more useful - 
 
 http://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-to-change-your-mind-and-your-life-by-using-affirmations/

Carpe Crap

If this were an 8 day week then today would be Newday and I would have an extra day in my week off work. As it stands I only have today and tomorrow left and I've only achieved half of what I had planned to do. So what have I managed to do? Get a haircut, finish my book and visit Soccer School.

Soccer School is a truly awful place.

Two Astroturf pitches in a huge cold warehouse filled with dirty smelly boys  of varying ages and lots of shouting. After my grandsons first day I thought he would be reluctant to spend another day in this hellhole doing nothing but kicking a ball about. I picked him up on his first day and was ridiculously early so rather than wait in the car I foolishly thought I would go inside the building and watch. The building was huge, cold and ugly. Behind wire grills I could see scores of boys and struggled to see my tiny grandson among the bigger boys dressed in a variety of team colours. I finally managed to spot my grandson in his Barcelona kit. I had never seen him look so dirty. Even his Sunday morning games in muddy fields don't make him look as if he has just finished a shift down a coalmine. In the car on the way home he was tired, hungry and grouchy and absolutely itching to get back to the school the next day. By the third day he was asking his mum if he could attend soccer school fulltime instead of going back to his mainstream school. 'I thought you loved your school.' his mum said. 'I did but it is getting so boring. All they go on about is phonics and we all know them.'

While I was watching two boys got into an argument and blows were exchanged. The trainers spoke to them about their behaviour and put them in 'time out'. The two boys sat together watching the others continuing to play and they were totally focused on the game. They sat quietly together, clearing itching to get back into the action, and when they were allowed to play again they stood up, shook hands, and joined in without another bad word between them. I spoke to one of the trainers afterwards and asked him about how they manage behaviour with a large group of boys aging from 6 - 11, most of who do not know each other and who play for, or support, rivalling teams. He told me that any bad behaviour is dealt with on day one and subsequently they rarely have any problems. 'The love of the game and the joy they feel playing overrides any frustrations they may have to begin with' he said. 'Even rivalry is forgotten when they start to appreciate each other’s skill'.

Pity this feeling doesn't happen around phonics.

Daytime TV makes me glad I am in full time employment although I did watch a couple of films. I rarely watch films these days and both these films were pretty awful although they did have good story lines. One, made for TV film, had the interesting storyline and a good twist so despite the poor acting, and the gaps in the story, I didn’t feel I’d totally wasted a couple of hours of my life but the other one, despite having a good story line and a great opening line, was a huge disappointment.  A classic film noir, D.O.A failed to live up to my (pretty low) expectations.  A murder victim has a matter of hours, days (maybe two weeks, no one could say for sure) to find his killer before the poison administered by the murderer kills him. He spends the rest of the film rushing around which worried me as I assumed this would ‘pump’ the poison around his body quicker reducing the time he had in which to find his poisoner.  In addition to finding his murderer the film shows his slow realisation that he really does love his devoted and loyal secretary and he has been a bit of a prick to her in the past.  I was quite pleased when he died in the final scene as he wasn’t a character you could warm to and the secretary, whilst now unfortunately out of a job, could do much better in the love stakes.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D.O.A._(1950_film)

Talking of jobs I have the task, today or tomorrow, of applying for a new job.  Filling in application forms can take a couple of hours and because of this I have been putting it off and watching crap films instead. Or writing crap blogs. Kidding myself that I work better when working towards a dealine. The poison of 'lost opportunity' is enough to spur me on. Enough procrastination. Carpe Diem.

http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/201109/procrastination-oops-where-did-the-day-go

 

  

 

Saturn Day and Newday

Those who know me well know how much I love Saturday mornings. A chance to, upon waking, lie in bed and contemplate the universe and the meaning of life or to do more productive things. It also gives me the rare opportunity to just be awake in my bedroom.

When I eventually get up (not too late as the days of sleeping all morning are long gone - I now feel as if I'm wasting a day if I sleep after 10am) I love the Saturday morning 'pottering about' stage which I realise, makes me sound really old. But 'pottering about', especially while wearing a dressing gown, is a vastly underrated activity. Some people do their pottering on a Sunday. But the danger of pottering on Sundays is that the pottering stage goes on for far too long and this IS NOT A GOOD THING. Saturday pottering only lasts about an hour before you have to stop pottering  and actually start doing things.

Some Saturday mornings I do housework. This really depends on how the week has been and what houseworky things have  already been done.  I put on some music and wash and dust until my home is clean and shiny and I feel as if I have had a bit of a workout. Then I can get on with my plans for the day which is usually to see friends or family and  just enjoy not being at work.

This morning, in the contemplation stage of my routine I had an idea.

The 8 day week.

Like most of my brainwaves I soon discover that someone had already beat me to it. In this case the concept had been tried out ages ago. The Romans used the 8 day 'Market Week' for a period of time. Of course I had been aware of the various calenders that humanity have created over time but hadn't realised that before settling on the one we have our ancestors had been very experimental. Even the bloody Beatles sang about the 8 day week 50 years ago. They failed to mention planets or the impact on the economy or the advantages or disadvantages of having an extra day in the week but focused on the extra day of love. They should have considered the impact of this extra day of loving on ones physical and mental health and thrown in a 9th day for recovery.

http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/beatles/eight+days+a+week_10026469.html

There are some people already living in their own 8 day week.

http://www.theeightdayweek.com/

However unlike theeightdayweek which involves shortening the days my concept was for an extra whole day that everyone in the world has. Mainly because all the extra days pay at the end of the longer month would be very welcome. It would surely help the economy as whenever a day of work is lost through strikes or because of the weather the news always reports that the lost day has cost the economy millions so surely an extra week day will pour millions into the economy. We will all have extra money at the end of the week to spend.

Children will get an extra day of learning so will become cleverer, the school holidays will be longer so the teachers will be happy and football fixtures will be easier to arrange.

I would have time to read my emails.

There will be an extra day between my weighing at Weight Watchers so I will lose even more weight each week.

We will all get longer in which to repay loans.

Mortgages will be over a longer time span so more people will be able to buy their own homes.

And best of all we will all stay younger longer. If this had started the year I was born I would only be in my 40s now.

There are even suggestions of a 10 day week. I was having trouble thinking of a name for my extra week day and eventually decided on 'Newday' so I was delighted to discover that the Archetype Calender has already names for all the extra days.

http://www.hermetic.ch/cal_stud/arch_cal/arch_cal.htm

Someone, of course would have to be made Minister of Newday, so that they could make sure people did not abuse it. There would have to be 'Newday Regulations' in order to make it work. For example -

Zero Interest to be added for the Newday for existing loans

Those who can work from home do so on Newdays

Business emails can be read, but not responded to, on Newdays

Newday curriculum at schools to focus on philosophy and the community

Minimum pay to be increased by 10% for those who work on Newday

Newday tax relief for low paid Newday workers

No soap omnibus' on Newday

To make things easier Newday will have to be slotted between Wednesday and Thursday. That way we still get the TGIF feeling.

Happy Saturn Day x

Beauty and the Olympics

The sun stayed out long enough today for my friend and I to enjoy an afternoon in Greenwich Park drinking Earl Grey tea and strolling among the tall mauve lupins. My friend noticed my newly (professionally painted) toenails and commented on how pretty they were. We spend a long time saying goodbye (mainly because we couldn't decide on whose car to take on our next outing) and trying to decide what to do the next time we met up. The trouble is London is an amazing city filled with an infinite number of interesting places to visit. It is also close to counties like Kent and Essex, and of course, the sea. We finally decided to visit Dungeness, both admiring of the industrial emptiness of the place. 'I thought you would like to visit somewhere prettier and picturesque'. said my friend.

Dungeness has its own beauty. Places by the sea do not have to look like St Ives or Lulworth Cove. Just as architecture does not have to be handsome Georgian houses or iconic buildings like the 'Shard' to be beautiful. Or women tall, blonde and size zero. Or men who look like George Clooney or David Beckham. I am always struck by the beauty of Battersea Power Station and the Nuclear Power Stations of Dungeness stir the same admiration in me.

My friend nodded. 'Me too. But make sure you wear some open-toed sandals so that I can admire your toenails if all the industrial beauty gets too much for me.'

http://www.dungeness-nnr.co.uk/

A more conventional beauty spot is Greenwich Park, sadly scarred at the moment by the preparations for the Olympics.

http://www.royalparks.org.uk/parks/greenwich-park

As the games get nearer I am trying to stir up some enthusiasm even going as far to enter a ballot to be allowed to buy tickets that have been allocated to Greenwich residents. But in all honesty I am not waiting for the opening ceremony with baited breath. I resent not being able to drive through the park each day and so missing the opportunity to witness the small changes that nature makes over the weeks to the flowers and the trees. I resent the heavy traffic I now have to sit in every morning. I resent the nightmare it is going to cause me on my journey to work this summer. I resent the blot on Blackhealth that the work has resulted in. I resent having to apply for parking permits in order to park at my home for the duration of the games. No doubt once they start I will be able to enjoy some of the hype and the sychronised swimming. Oh and the gymnastics with the ribbons always gets me going. There are some benefits I will enjoy. Take the new river crossing....flying over the Thames in 'gondolas'! I can't wait to try this out.

http://now-here-this.timeout.com/2012/06/19/sky-high-club-emirates-air-line-opening-date-announced/

And I will be in Woolwich town square with my grandson to see the Olympic flame pass through. Well why not? If you can't beat em blah blah blah.

 http://www.royalgreenwich.gov.uk/info/200131/greenwich_2012_community/1170/olympic_torch_relay_through_royal_greenwich

Hug

Watching the England fans celebrate last nights win got me thinking how little opportunity we have to express ourselves in such a overtly and noisy manner. There is a certain childlike exuberance to the screaming, yelling, jumping up and punching the air behaviour that was replicated in pubs, bars and living rooms up and down the country. And the hugging. Lots if adults hugging. Lots of men hugging men.

Hugging is a wonderful human interaction. Although intimate hugs are non sexual, non threatening - just human touch. Hugs congratulate, commiserate or even just greet someone you like.

On Sunday I was at work and my children gathered at my place before they went to visit their father for Fathers Day. While they were getting ready they allowed my grandson to play outside on the shared lawn. As he was making his way down the path in his football kit he met another boy, a couple of years older than him, also decked out in a football kit. The other boy was with his dad and they were returning from Sunday morning football practise.

'Hello' they said, each taking in the different football kits. 'Fancy a game?' my grandson asked. The older boy asked his dad if that was OK and on receiving permission the two boys, who had never met, enjoyed a kick about for a half hour. My son, who was watching, said the older boy was a skilled footballer and showed my grandson several footie skills.

My son told me that when my grandson was called in as it was time to go he heard the following conversation;

Older boy - 'Can we play football again?'

Grandson - 'Yes. But I don't live here. My nan does and I'm just visiting.'

Older boy - 'I don't live here either. Just visiting my dad. He lives here. I see him every other weekend'.

Grandson 'OK, lets play next time we are both here'.

And then my son told me the two boys hugged and said goodbye.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hug

Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you. ~Jacques Prévert

Everybody needs a hug. It changes your metabolism. ~Leo Buscaglia

You can't wrap love in a box, but you can wrap a person in a hug. ~Author Unknown

Hug Department: Always Open ~Author Unknown

I love hugging. I wish I was an octopus, so I could hug ten people at a time. ~Drew Barrymore

There's something in a simple hug
That always warms the heart,
It welcomes us back home
And makes it easier to part....
~Johnny Ray Ryder, Jr., "A Simple Hug"

Arm ourselves for war? No! All the arms we need are for hugging. ~Author Unknown
I will not play at tug o' war
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs....
~Shel Silverstein

A hug is a handshake from the heart. ~Author Unknown

You can't give a hug without getting a hug. ~Author Unknown

A hug delights and warms and charms,
that must be why God gave us arms.
~Author Unknown

Hugs are the universal medicine. ~Author Unknown

A hug is a great gift - one size fits all, and it's easy to exchange. ~Author Unknown

Happiness is an unexpected hug. ~Author Unknown

...A hug is an amazing thing
It's just the perfect way
To show the love we're feeling
But can't find the words to say....
~Johnny Ray Ryder, Jr., "A Simple Hug"

If you're angry at a loved one, hug that person. And mean it. You may not want to hug - which is all the more reason to do so. It's hard to stay angry when someone shows they love you, and that's precisely what happens when we hug each other. ~Walter Anderson, The Confidence Course, 1997

There's nothing like a mama-hug. ~Terri Guillemets

A mom's hug lasts long after she lets go. ~Author Unknown

Hugs grease the wheels of the world. ~Author Unknown

Your hugs and kisses are like the stars that light up my life when things get dark. ~Author Unknown
A hug is worth a thousand words. ~Author Unknown

Every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. ~Maya Angelou

Have you hugged yourself today? ~Anonymous

A hug is two hearts wrapped in arms. ~Author Unknown

I don't discriminate - I'm an equal-opportunity hugger. ~Author Unknown

Hugging has no unpleasant side effects and is all natural. There are no batteries to replace, it's inflation-proof and non-fattening with no monthly payments. It's non-taxable, non-polluting, and is, of course, fully refundable. ~Author Unknown

Hugs don't need new equipment,
Special batteries or parts -
Just open up your arms
And open up your hearts.
~Johnny Ray Ryder, Jr., "A Simple Hug"

A hug is like a bandage to a hurting wound. ~Author Unknown

Never wait until tomorrow to hug someone you could hug today,
because when you give one, you get one right back your way.
~Author Unknown

A hug is the shortest distance between friends. ~Author Unknown

http://www.freehugscampaign.org/

My Naked Women

On waking up he looked round my bedroom and asked me why there are so many naked women in my room.

Why indeed?

I love men. I much prefer to spend time with men than with women. For one I find that I laugh more with men. They are just funnier than women and I am funnier when I'm in their company.

Usually men smell good. I mean the pheromones not the aftershave although I do sometimes get a whiff of an ex partners aftershave (Obsession) and I am, in my mind, instantly back in his arms. Speaking of smells I recently purchased two vintage scents on eBay simply to revisit memories. One was the scent my grandmother used to wear (Yardleys Fressia) and long since discontinued. When I opened the bottle it was as if my nan had stepped into the room -  so powerfully did the smell bring her back to me. I then closed the bottle tightly and gave it to my dad, her son. His wife rang me a few days later to tell me he had taken the bottle into the spare room and a few minutes later she could hear him sobbing. That night they got out all the old pictures and discussed long forgotten memories and it was wonderful to have nan back for a few hours. The other vintage scent I bought was the one I wore in the 1970s (Panache...classy eh?) and when I sniffed it I was instantly transported to the time of my first love, loosing my virginity and being irresistible to the opposite sex. I spent a wonderful few hours being 17 again.

I love mens bodies. The muscle formation, the tight bums, their hairy chests and their bits and pieces. But I do not want them on my bedroom walls.

The naked women on my bedroom walls are beautiful and serene and quietly sensual. My favourite is 'My Senses' by Chekirov.

http://www.originalpaintings.com/talantbek_chekirov.htm

I wake up and the first thing I see is this beautiful woman drying herself after taking a bath in preparation for the day or the night. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Degas

Then there is my mystery woman. Who she is or where she is from I have no idea but she too is preparing for something or someone. She waits so patiently.

Filling my bedroom with naked women was not intentional - it all came about by chance as all rooms should. Not planned, not co-ordinated but just becoming the place to be for its user. My bedroom is also filled with books and shoes but all anyone ever notices is my naked women.

ignorance is bliss...and sometimes desirable

Major life events are still being recorded by my grandson in his little diary. However when I asked him if he had entered the news that Chelsea where the Champions of Europe he replied 'no, I'm only writing the important stuff'. This confused me as he had felt the fact they reached the finals as important and recorded that event in his diary but I thought no more about until my daughter told me of a conversation she had had with him.

'Mum, will I die when I filled up all the pages of my diary?' he asked her.

'What? No, of course not' said my daughter.

'What happens then? When I've filled it up? said my grandson.

'I'll buy you a new one'. my daughter told him.

So it would seem that he thought when he filled in the last page of his diary that would be the end of his life so he had started rationing what he wrote in it. But wouldn't it be wonderful if at the end of your life you could just buy a new one? Of course if you were very rich you could buy a good successful life, one in which you had brains, beauty and robust good health. If you were poor and could only afford the life of an unhappy, unloved ugly old crone you are hardly going to make the purchase are you? Or are you? Is life that desirable? In that case lets say you can buy the new life with good deeds. The more good deeds you have done the better life you could buy. If you had been a selfish cruel person all you would be able to afford is the life of the ugly old crone. Eventually the world would be filled with beautiful, clever and healthy people. Oh dear, that sounds like religion with a dash of eugenics....moving on.

Last weekend we spend a wonderful day at a 'Make Merry' event on a local common where
we enjoyed a variety of live music, dance and exotic food. A couple of days later we were driving past the common (one of several where I live) and I pointed it out to my grandson saying 'That's the common where we were making merry the other day' and he asked me why it was called a 'common'? I, incorrectly it turns out, told him that common land belongs to everyone. This is apparently a misapprehension that has persisted since at least Tudor times, when land would have been used for communal farming and domestic practises. Now it means Common land is a piece of land in private ownership, where other people have certain traditional rights to use it in specified ways, such as being allowed to graze their livestock or gather firewood. And in 2012 have festivals, funfairs, circus', football practise, kite flying, dog walking and general merry making it would seem. Anyway getting back to my wrong answer to his question - that a common belongs to everyone - he asked why the Earth isn't called the Earth Common as the Earth belongs to everyone. Now this is were I am blissful I was ignorant of the facts. If I'd know I was wrong it would have been oh so easy to explain why some people own parts of the Earth and why some counties wage wars in order to own parts of the world but I didn't know I was wrong and said that we just called it Earth for short.

Driving him home the other day I, slightly frustrated at my grandsons occasional inconsiderate behaviour, said to him 'you are a bit of a user your know'. 'Yep - lots of people have told me that' he replied nonchalantly.

Oh to be 6 years old and full of curiosity and self worth and having the ugly truth hidden from you.