Over Sharing and Cheerleading

Tonight's Activities

I sit here, hot and sweaty from my workout. I've just done a Davina McCall 30 minute Cardio Box in my new workout gear and rather fun new shoes. I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting back to the point before I had the time off for the move and everything. This is a very happy feeling indeed.

The exercising I believe has made a huge difference to my energy levels. I'm doing stuff now as soon as I think about them and without having to psyche myself up for the task. I'm now looking at all the things I'd like to do exercise-wise in the coming weeks and what I'd like for myself long-term. 

It's a small change in my lifestyle that has had a huge impact. I think it's because striving for fitness and seeing the small gains I've made has made me realise that I can achieve other things too. It's a generalisation - a term from NLP that describes a pattern of learning. Once you've learnt to open one kind of door, you've got a pretty good idea how to open others and it then becomes the task to seeing how each door is different from the original. Also, exercising is tough and requires determination and motivation. Doing this has reminded me about physical and emotional resilience.

How often when confronted with a situation have I said "oh, but this is hard." 

Yeah, it has been hard. But you know what? So what. I'd rather be sweating through the difficult stuff (and yes, moaning about it) and do it, than sit on my butt doing nothing (and moaning about it even more). It's not that it gets any easier, I'm just able to do a little bit more each time. And that little bit more has felt like a huge triumph over my own laziness, fear and negativity.

The best part about this process is the support I've been given from the people around me. Dave has been an absolute star. He's never laughed when I said I wanted to do something, in fact, he's worked to find a way I can do it, even if it's meant adjusting my expectations. I've made some new friends and strengthened old friendships, both IRL and online. And it has made such a difference to me. The cheerleading totally over-rides the little internal voice being all sarky and disparaging about my very small triumphs. I see other people's accomplishments and I celebrate with them, even if I'm not even a fifth of their level.

I've seen people around me who've started, made real progress and stopped. They've run out of motivation, real life has got in the way, they just can't be arsed. They talk the good talk: they'll get back to it tomorrow, or next week or next month. They'll cut down the booze, give up the fags, stop eating crisps and cake - but not today.

It took me about a year to stop smoking. I started and stopped several times. But I didn't give up. December will be a year I will be nicotine free. This time next year, I don't want to be looking at my cool new shoes, still pristine, thinking 'next week'. I don't want that to be me. I may not ever have a body like Davina, but I will be fitter than I was 6 months ago and fitter than I was 6 weeks ago and I won't stop trying.

So, thank you Ladies and Gentlemen for keeping me company, cheering me on and taking the piss. I've really appreciated it. 

Roses
xxx

Adventures in a Pub on a Cold, Wet Sunday Evening

Ladies and Gentlemen, what follows is why I had to start blogging again...

Last Sunday the clocks went back. I was still feeling a bit wrung out and the weather was diabolical and then of course, it was dark by 5 pm. I'd put on my comfy clothes, snuggled down on my favourite corner of the sofa, got my Shiny Things nearby and basically got ready for an evening in reading a trashy book.

When I started hanging out with Lawrence last year, he introduced me to Norwich's gig scene. We'd go down to Jurnet's Bar in Wensum Lodge for their Acoustic Nights, listen to acts play their funky music. We'd go to Olives on Magdalene Street for Penguin's Acoustic and Eclectic evenings. I've seen some amazing bands and my music collection has grown because of it. What I've really loved is getting to know the museos in the bands, thanks to the power of Facebook and the fact that Norwich is actually a small village really. 

One such band is Das Fenster and the Alibis. Voodoo rock'n'roll with a dangerous edge. I am pretty sure we were at their first ever gig and we've been following them around ever since.

Lawrence was working over the weekend, and I was not feeling up to much, so we agreed that Das Fenster's gig on the Sunday evening was probably a no-go. I snuggled down, got my iPad out and then it started.

A poet, who I will call H asked if I was going and then there was a quick flurry of exchanges with another poet J, joining in. In the end, I got up off my butt, changed and picked up J. Off we went to the pub, very early as it turned out.

Now the Edward VIII advertises itself as a 'live music venue'. It's not in the most salubrious area and it's not the most well-heeled establishment, but it's fun. In we go. I sent a text to Lawrence saying I was there, with poets.

We caught up, drank and waited H and her husband M to rock up. There was much kissing of cheeks when they did.

Das Fenster and the Alibis are a trio. There's Das Fenster on lead vocals, guitar and occasionally piano, Pearly Gates on double base and Stagger Lee on drums. The pub soon filled up. What the poets and I hadn't realised is that it was published as a Halloween affair, with loads of people turning up in fancy dress. The walls, pictures, beer pumps were draped with cobwebs, spiders and bats. Witches and pumpkins adorned the windows; all illuminated by UV light which made the whole thing a little bit creepy. Think luminescent cobwebs...

They got up, introduced themselves and started playing. In the year since I've known them they've only got better, adding new material and they are great show men. I won't go into too much detail, but click on the links for a taste of the music. I'm nagging for the album they're busy recording.

So anyway, they start and so do two hecklers. I'm not sure what it is about drunk men, they think they are so funny. At one point I wondered whether this was going to be my first ever pub brawl. Happily, they reigned it in a bit, with the occasional comment from the floor. The poets and I sat in the corner up on bar stools, which meant I could see. What we hadn't realised is that we were sitting over the smoke machine, which enthusiastically set to work. Unfortunately, it did it's job too well, getting to the point where I couldn't see a foot in front of my face.

There's a certain cool factor to the lead singer saying from the stage, between tracks "Lawrence, Roses is sat in the corner over there!" Lawrence had arrived and couldn't see me in the smoke and darkness. My night was complete as far as I was concerned...what did I know? They played my favourite song "I won't go back" and it was stonking. I had to have jiggle.

When the gig ended, Lawrence accompanied me outside as I had a nicotine break, the pub secures the doors once the gigs start and it took us a minute to realise we had to lean on the front door to keep it open so we could get back in. We were joined by one of the hecklers and his girlfriend. Both were well in their cups. I smoked in silence whilst they slurred their way through their conversation and then I unwisely I looked at Lawrence and pointed out how patient he was being.

The heckler's girlfriend peered at him and then looked me straight in the eye and announced "It means he's crap at sex!" 

WTF?

"I wouldn't say that at all." Was my mild reply. My first job was in my dad's pub. There's very little that can shake, rattle and roll me. I've seen it, heard it and frankly, if she thought she could shock me, she was disappointed.

"Oi loik you. You're nice people." She puts her arm around me, squashes me to her net jumper and introduces herself and her boyfriend.

"What's your names?"

Quick as a flash, without even a pause, Lawrence says he's 'Eric' and I'm 'Louisa'.

Lousia? Really?

If I'd have stayed home on my sofa, I'd have missed out on this experience. Definitely worth getting dressed for.

Assuming the Position

The meal went well. Really well. Except I'm a bit fragile. Okay, more than a bit. Yes, I over-indulged. But damn it was fun.

Chicken was a definite success. I'm glad I tinkered with the marinade on Saturday. The extra ginger, chilli and coriander made all the difference. I knew my cooking was good when Boy came back from his dad, took a look in the stew pot, squeaked and filled up a plate full. A couple hours later he came down again and emptied all the pots of their contents. All I've got left is some salad and a bowl of dressing.

I'm moving slow today. A good night's sleep and I'll be raring to go again. The week is a-calling. I have things to do. Projects to catch up on. And I will....tomorrow.

Happy Valentine's Day

Even if I wanted to ignore it, the shops filled with bright red hearts, cuddly toys and balloons, would have made it impossible not to know that Valentine's Day is upon us. Needless to say, there are no boxes of chocolates, balloons, cards or cuddly toys resting on my doorstep. Thank the Goddess.

Any man appearing with cuddly toys, balloons or a box of Cadbury's Milk Tray for me, would need a trip to A&E to remove them from his rear end. I'm not partial to the Forever Friends bears, cards with cutesy doggerel or milk chocolates.

I usually dread Valentine's Day. It's the day when the world rubs my nose into the fact I'm single.

However, this Valentine's Day is slightly different. No, my status hasn't changed. Robert Downey Jr is still very much married and in ignorance of my fabulousness.

For me, life is about connections. The connections I keep, the solid gifts of friendship that supported me through my ups and downs. The connections that keep going through the years despite my best efforts to fuck things up. I might not have a man, but I have many, many people who are committed to me (who occasionally think I need to be committed), who love me, just for being me.

I had a stark reminder today; life is too short to fuck about. Today, is as good as any to tell you, how much I appreciate you being here with me. If I were you, I'd grab your significant other, your children, your parents, give them a big hug, tell them you love them. Don't waste the precious time on games, on fears, on the small stuff.

Happy Valentine's Day.

FYI

Boy and I will be elsewhere for the next 2 weeks. Gee's fabulous daughter Aitch and family are rocking up in about an hour and a half and will be running riot over Palais de Roses. Therefore, normal blogging service is likely to be patchy.

Don't have too much fun while I'm gone.

Meeting Dave

Today, I met Dave. He says I'm his 21st blogmeet. I find it difficult to do a reciprocal calculation for the simple fact quite a lot of the bloggers on my list, I knew well before I blogged, or knew they blogged.

I was late. I had to shout at the bank first thing this morning and when I got home I didn't want to leave for the eaterie, without doing the dishes first, in case he wasn't a serial killer, and I invited him back for a cuppa.

He began by apologising. He warned me that he talks alot. Yes, he does. And we talked pretty solidly for over 3 hours. I was concerned that as a Man of the Cloth, he would attempt to share with me the error of my ways, being a dippy-hippy pagan and all that. I could have saved myself the worry-time. He didn't try to convert me to the Dark Side and I didn't break out the Lions. Though I will say, at one point he talked about his love of cricket; I smiled and nodded. After all, it takes all sorts.

Note to Self: most people don't take it as a compliment if you point out that they are spitting images of your birth father, bar for the obvious racial difference. Strangely enough, he has a similar sense of humour and the same deep well of compassion. Perhaps that's why it was so comfortable?

When I figured out that he would make a lousy serial killer, I invited him back to the Palais de Roses to see the garden where the purple oriental poppy seed he brought, will be sprinkled. He is not partial to grass, but could see why I wanted to keep it. I think he approves of my gardening plans.

Dave has been blogging longer than I and when we talked about it, I realised that for both of us, blogging is a community made up of friends you wouldn't always meet IRL. But once people become blogging friends, they are solid and with you through thick and thin. They are the people you can reveal the parts others don't necessarily see in your day-to-day life. People who don't blog, don't get it. And that's fine. I would argue that us bloggers have a deep need to communicate, to create connections and through those connections, live a little. It's a way of having a bit of fun, exploring creativity, exploring personal issues, sharing yourself. It's a way of being seen and acknowledged. It's a way of getting to know people that you wouldn't normally think would be friendship material. Dave said to me as I rolled up my crafty smoke, that he wouldn't normally meet smokers in his day to day life. I think he's walking on the wild side!

Sunday, Sunday

This was one of the last weekends Boy and I have together before the madness of Christmas takes over and I wanted to make the most of it. We had company yesterday Bear and his lovely missus came over. We caught up over coffee, ciabattas stuffed with cheese, ham and salad and put the world to rights, lubricated by some fabulous elderberry wine from Scotland. It was lovely just being able to relax with good company and good food.

Today, Boy and I went for a walk. We started off with a hearty English breakfast at my favourite greasy spoon and then we headed off to UEA on foot, through the Avenues, and round about a council estate called South Park (I kid you not) until we finally fell over the university. It was a nostalgic meander, one which called up both good and sad memories. At UEA, Boy bought me a coke and we sat out and watched the world go by before we trouped around the body of water known as the Broad. We caught the bus back.

I'm still having difficulty with the thought that in 4 years time Boy will basically leave home. If he pursues his dream of becoming a vet, it means he'll be studying for 9 months of the year, with 3 months as work placement. Yes, I know he will come visit and vice versa. But he'll be setting out into the world as a man. I suppose it's a scary thought, simply because he'll be off, and I have no idea what I'll be doing with myself. Will I be writing? Will I be employed? Will I be a famous artist? Will I be on my own? With someone else? Will I still even be in Norwich, or England?

The scary thing is I don't even know how to go about answering those questions now. I'm just putting one foot in front of the other at the moment, moving steadily towards the day when I'll be a single-parent without my child. It's a pre-cursor to the Empty-Nest Syndrome I suppose. I'm not comfortable with the uncertainty, but as scary as it is, it's also exciting. Boy is going to be a Man. When he leaves home, it'll be the first time that I will experience life without the responsibility of another human being. Though apparently, I get to keep the cat. Joy. While we were walking and chatting, he said he didn't particularly want to drag her all over the country with him. So she has officially become mine. Just as well really.

Three Part Post

Part One:

This image and about 90 others like it, is basically how I've been spending my time on the buses. It's a bit scary to think that in four weeks time, I will have completed my installation for my degree show, and so endeth my work at the College. Eeek! I'm still thinking seriously about the MA in Digital Art as a potential way forward for me as it will mean more self-generated projects like Journeying. Plus, at the end of my time I'll be able to go for better jobs than I can at the moment, specifically in the creative industries (whatever that means, I am merely repeating what the very kind careers officer told me). If I do decide to do the MA, I'll do it part-time as it will give me more breathing space to work and to grow creatively. Having said all of that, I'm not making any decisions that are set in concrete. I'm determined that I will take my time and see what opportunities present themselves. I've also been looking every week at the Guardian's Media page to see what's floating about. This indecision is unusual for me, I'm more the 'push-past-the-angels-and-bugger-the-consequences' type of girl, which has been fun, it must be said. At the moment, I'm very aware of the effect of my pending decision and I want to make the best possible one.

Part Two:

This is my Proud Mum Moment. This evening Boy and I met The Teachers at his school, to discuss his progress in the first year of high school. Our meetings with said teachers were brief. They pretty much all ran along the lines of: he's a keen student, he participates in class, he's pleasant to teach, he works hard, he's doing really well. In some cases, exceptionally well. Boy wants to be a vet, like his uncle Atlas. He's taken on board that he's going to have to be completely committed and motivated to do it and he's walking the talk. How proud am I? We went out to dinner to celebrate. He rocks!

Part Three:

This is a Big-Up for Gertie. If you have been clicking on my link, you will no doubt know that Gertie has been having a bit of a rough time lately. We first met working with NHSD, where she wasn't only working silly shifts, but also doing supply teaching around Norfolk. She had just qualified and thanks to a surplus of teachers in Norfolk, was without a permanent teaching position. So, she would finish at NHSD at 2am, go to bed for a few hours and then be up in time to teach a bunch of reception year kids numeracy and literacy at 8am. She had to move to Kent to a less-than-ideal temporary job and has had to deal with unruly kids (and I'm being kind in my description) as well as piss poor management.

I'm asking you to give Gertie a Big-Up because although life is being generally shite to her at the moment, she is still committed 100% to teaching. I'm just amazed by her fortitude and strength of purpose. Teaching is her dream job and as hard as it is now, I just know that she'll land that fab teaching job. In my skewed view of reality, success is The Outcome for that much determination and hard work. I'm so chuffed she's my friend. Go Gertie. Go Gertie.

Denial - not the river in Egypt

As far as I can make out, not much has changed in Norwich, apart from the chippy down the road changing hands. People seem to be the same. Busy, stressed, working, loving, living. Boy is continuing to be 13, the cat is continuing to be odd. But everything has changed.

I don't know how to write about it without being bleak or depressing. This is actually the third time I've written this paragraph. Despite it all, it isn't really about pain. It's about hope. The realisation that this life we've been given is so precious, that every decision about how we spend our time, ought to be weighed more carefully. Whatever your spiritual leanings, you'll never really know what waits on the other side until the very end. Therefore, it makes sense to live this life well and hope for the best. If it is pointless and death is a void into which we fall and are lost to eternity, then at least these moments spent together will not be wasted time.

I really don't believe this is the case. I have attended the deaths of both my mother and my step-father; after their deaths, their bodies were like the clothes I leave on my bedroom floor. I believe there is something more. Knowing that, I still don't want to lose the chance to live well.

I know St Valentines Day is a commercialised event, to up the sales of gooey cards, roses and chocolates. But quite frankly, there is so much pain and suffering in this world that any day dedicated to the people we love has got to be good.

Money no longer is the be all and end all to me. It's now about time. Time is precious. I want to spend it with the people who I care about, and the people who care about me. I want my time to be spent doing fun things, nice things, creative things.

I now want to take the time to tell you how much I appreciate your dropping by. You've been an important part of my life for the last 8 or so months. Thanks. Happy Valentine's Day.

Hangover Cures

Gertie the Frog came over last night and we had a lovely bottle of red, which is now a dim memory. One of the things I learnt last night is that you should only pour Baileys into clean glasses. Pouring it into a glass that previously held red wine makes it curdle. Trust me, it's not nice. Really.

The plan last night was to watch DVDs and loads of them, we drank wine, chatted about work and moaned about callers, ate pizza, drank more wine, chatted about men. Drank more wine, chatted about families. Did lots of hugging and squeaking when her parents text her to say her sister had her baby. It was a lovely evening.

Not so lovely feeling this morning. Especially when Boy announces we have to go into town to get a present for the birthday party he was invited to this afternoon. The Xmas shopping bonanza has started. Cheerful shoppers, smilling happily with their gifts, laughing at their kid's jokes, clearly enjoying the feeling of warmth and togetherness - not. I was so glad to get home. This evening has been relaxed, friends popped round with posh bickies and a bottle of wine, it was so good to catch up with them.

I'm going to let you into a little secret. I've been looking at MAs in Fine Art. I think I want to be an artist. Oh dear Goddess, did I say that out loud? I will always write, one way or another, but I don't get up in the morning thinking 'I've got to write this down'. When you talk to writers, or listen to them being interviewed, it's an obsession with them. I'm not obsessed by writing, but I am obsessed by my Creative Practice. When I was so low in the summer, it was that which kept me going. Yes, I know. This way lies madness. I have no idea how I'm going to do it, or pay for it, but something will work out. If it's meant to be, it'll happen.

Scent of Earl Grey

Today, I had a rubbish day at work. One of the things I'm discovering about working for NHSD, is that nothing ever happens by halves. It was a really rubbish day. As in I started work at 7 am and by 8 am I had my first expected death. Expected deaths are what they say on the tin. It was an elderly person with a terminal illness, whose relatives respected her wish to let her die at home. I heard the grief in his tightly controlled voice and I couldn't type, I couldn't think.

The best part of today was coming home, getting changed and chatting to new friends on-line. Virtual friends, but friends all the same. We talked about stuff and lots of it. Tomorrow, I'll work on my dissertation and prose and then the weekend and more friends, this time in the real world. I might have had a shite day, but I've had a lovely evening. I can't help but feel that yes, life might not be quite going according to plan, but it's all good.

Baby Blogger

I woke up this morning, washed my hair and realised that the maternal hormones have chilled out again. Whew! I can't be doing with that at the moment. Life is interesting enough without me making it 10 x worse by wanting to reproduce on top of it. Thank goodness the rational side of my brain finally kicked in.

Anyway, over the weekend I've been having a look at other blogs and the eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed I've added some other blogs in my links section. I think they're pretty fab. Girl with a One Track Mind, you've heard me talk about previously. There's now JonnyB in Norfolk, who is really witty, I love his droll humour. Petite Anglaise is another blogger who got 'dooced' (outed and fired for those who don't know), and her life in Paris. And for those who are fascinated with all things medical, Random Acts of Reality, the joys of being an ambulance crew in East London. Mike Carter and his mid-life crisis blog are a bit sporadic and the Observer don't seem to believe in maintaining a dedicated space, so I'll just keep linking his articles.

At the Baby Naming yesterday surrounded by academics and really creative, intelligent people. Perhaps I should introduce them properly. Yummy Mummy is a doctor (not medic), her Fab Hubby a nurse (the medical kind), her sister Truly Talented is wading her way through a Masters, her boyfriend The Bostonian is working on his doctorate, their mum My Best Friend is writing 2 books and is in the midst of recording another album, her husband Rockin Johnny plays bass round the county. Their two huge, boys are like older brothers to my boy, the eldest Loomer and the youngest Headbanger both play guitar and several other instruments.

ah yes...the Baby Naming. Surrounded by this excellence I had to field several enquiries as to how I'm getting on with my dissertation and project. Saying 'ummmm....' just doesn't quite cut it. Especially as My Best Friend has lent me several books to get me started. Time's cracking on, I've got another month and then I start my final year. Oh boy.

I've got 2 days work at the practice, and my Boss doesn't mind if I study when I'm not dealing with clients or the phone. I'm hoping it won't be long before I hear from the bus company. Being sponsored would be just great. Keep your fingers crossed for me.