Who am I?

I guess this is a question most of us ask ourselves and one which I have been struggling with more and more lately.  It is no coincidence that in both of my books, the theme has been reinvention.  In today’s world, everything moves so fast, people live longer.  We now have to be able to change careers, homes, countries, sometimes partners, perhaps several times during our lifespan. We are expected to constantly adapt to new technological advances and an ever changing world.

I thought I was special when I was younger, in the way that I imagine most children do. For children there is only the “me.”  I really believed that I would achieve something important.  I didn’t know what, but I just felt it would happen - that it was my destiny, waiting for me to grow up and fulfil it. 

Now I am at an age where I am faced with the reality, which is of course is that I’m not special at all. I’m just very ordinary, and I’m never going to set the world alight with my talents or prowess in any particular field.  So that begs the question – who am I then?   Some things I know i.e., I’m a wife, mother, daughter, mother-in-law, aunt, cousin, friend.  I am also the sum total, such as it is, of my various career choices and studies, but none of this really answers the question properly.  If I exist, as Sartre says, in the gaze of the other, then if others fail to see me, I fail to exist. So is our measure of our reality how we feel about and see ourselves or is it through our impact on others?

I understand the need for reinvention and in fact, have had to undergo it several times in my life.  My latest transformation was turning my back on singledom eleven years ago to re-marry, and I have never regretted it, being blessed with a fantastic partner.  Perhaps I am just at the stage now where my own ambition and dreams are dissolving and my role is now to foster and help my husband and children achieve their destinies and dreams.

I’m not unhappy about this.  Yes, it would have been nice to have trail blazed in some field but I think having accepted that is not going to happen, there is a sort of contentment in the recognition and acceptance of this.  I have not achieved much generally by most people’s standards, but I have a wonderful family and friends and I have loved enough for several lifetimes and found love in return.

 And that is all I know.

Whether 'tis nobler in the body to suffer the aches and pains of prolonged exercise or to take arms against it, and by lying on the sofa, end them...

While away visiting the relations down south, I decided to start jogging again.  I used to jog regularly, my daughter and I completed the 10K about five years ago but although there have been sporadic attempts to get back into gear; I haven’t consistently sustained any exercise over more than a three month period at a time.  Suzie and I did attend a Yoga class for a while but the seventy/eighty year old woman who had the supple body of a thirty year old, unfortunately did not have the mental agility to match.  At the end of one class, she got mixed up and thought she was starting the class all over again.  We gave up at that point.

So I went jogging when visiting mum and dad in-laws.  Bad enough to try and start running when you have been out of the saddle for a while as they say.  But even worse running with my husband Mark.  Mark is the love of my life, but I’m sorry, he is six foot three ins and I am five foot 2ins, so his strides are way longer than mine. For one of his strides, I have to take three. He tells me he is running at my pace, but I am far from convinced.  We managed to go round a few blocks, a quarter of a mile or so with relative ease. Nothing to this really I decide and agree to continue when we got back to Scotland.

 When we returned home however, as we were still on holiday, we decided to do a familiar two mile run.  I wanted to give up several times, thinking longingly of my affinity with the sofa, cups of tea and coffee, long cool drinks, the TV, remote control, magazines etc, all of which require little more than a stretching of the arm. (Surely that counts as exercise?)  Mark took the role of coach, telling me to keep going with a long list of motivational phrases such as : “you can do it!” “keep going!”   “just one more hill to go!”  He even used his arm to help propel me up a particularly steep hill.  Apparently I was giving him murderous looks – mmm, can’t think why.

 Yes, I did indeed feel very virtuous when I returned home but I had a tomato face which lasted for over an hour and a half!  Mark had hardly broken sweat and is now sneakily planning to extend the run to 5k.  My God, I even enjoyed re-reading Sylvia Plath’s ‘The Bell Jar’ this week more than the running. Yes, reading about someone having a breakdown held more appeal than putting on the running shoes again.

 No doubt if I can put my heart into it I’ll start to (sort of), enjoy running  again. As revenge of course, I intend to insist that we get the bicycles out of the garage, we live near a canal cycle path and make sure we intersperse it with cycling, one of the few sports like badminton and swimming that I actually enjoy.  Meanwhile we have a planned run for tomorrow morning and I am thinking what a terrible shame it would be if one of Mark’s training shoes went missing.  I mean, he is always mislaying things….

On the other hand:-
"Quotidie damnatur qui semper timet" - the person who is always afraid is condemned every day.

This is one battle I think I might lose - watch this space.

Being There

It is spring which is ironic really

I had already cleared you out of my heart

But the box of letters lay unattended

 and dusty, with the passing years

I took an hour and read them through

Someone else’s life surely?

Meeting an old half remembered friend

Glimpsed in the corner of my mind

Was it I, the person you wrote to?

Spilling your fire and passion onto paper

Making promises, full of hope and love

that flowered but briefly

I found the keeper of my heart

Who has captured it and holds it close

It wasn’t you, my former love

And never will be now

Enough of searching for heroes

who love romance but have no room

for the mundane vicissitudes

that consumes every person’s life

The man who is there for me has

romance and passion in abundance

But he loves me when fortune’s winds blow cold

Everything I ever wanted

Phyl Wright (c) 2007 

Myspace versus Facebook

Well the statistics prove that Facebook is more popular in the UK than myspace.  In fact, I think it is more popular everywhere except the USA where I believe Myspace still leads (albeit not by very much).  I have noticed however that when people leave Facebook their accounts are not always cancelled, but are inactive which makes me wonder how many people actually have left that still count towards the numbers?

Personally my introduction to social networking was myspace.  I came late to Facebook and joined it mainly because people I actually know in real life are on it.

I have noticed lots of differences between the two sites. Myspace friends tend to be lots of people you have never met in real life, which I don’t think is true to the same extent as Facebook.  This is of course can be a drawback – it is not the first time I’ve had to block someone sending inappropriate content.  On the other hand, I have made friends all round the world with Myspace and many of these friendships have endured.  Relationships flourish on myspace.  I know of at least three marriages and two engagements which have taken place in the last two years between people who only met on Myspace.  Perhaps this is also the case on Facebook? 

I do find the Facebook very clunky to use compared to Myspace but then I am a bit of a technophobe.  Photos, music and blogs are much easier to download and access on Myspace. It is geared to people like me who like clear instructions and it is also faster to download something to the site than Facebook in my experience.  I also like the way you can link with artists, writers and musicians by category on Myspace, again Facebook may have this feature, but I haven’t found it yet.

Myspace has more people using pseudonyms on it than Facebook.  Not quite sure why, but a friend commented on his blog that he felt it enabled him to say things that he would have trouble saying under his real name.  Obviously this is a double edged sword but  it can give a certain freedom to relate certain things without causing offence to the people concerned. (Yes, DJD - hope your sisters have forgiven you now!) For many people, it enables them to try out a different persona – less honest maybe - but no different really from say sites like Second Life, with the Avatars. I know people send lots of comments on Myspace and yes, you do get the pixie comments, and the cartoons and the gothic vampire comments.  I like them all, just because it says that someone thought enough about you that day to send one to you.  Facebook has its Wall which is fun, and serves the same purpose as Myspace comments, and I also like the way people can join in discussions on Facebook about a particular comment or statement that has been made.

The blogs on Myspace are great and I have learnt so much about so many things from them.  I have also encountered lots of new music which I would never have been able to track down on my own. I also like the way you can design your own profile page on myspace, and change it whenever you like.

I have stuck with the American version of myspace which means if I have trouble with any technical faults, I can turn to good old Tom to sort them out.  Of course, I know that there is a whole office if not building, of people working on the technical side of running Myspace, but like other Myspacers, I like to believe that it is Tom who is labouring away on our behalf.  He looks quite cute and is always reassuring about anything not working on the site.  A sort of nerdy genial geek who is a whiz at sorting stuff out.  If something goes wrong with the Facebook site it just seems not to work, and you have to wait until it clears again.  No Tom!

I guess the major reason I prefer Myspace is that it feels like more a community, but a very relaxed informal one.  It sort of reminds me of sitting round a table with friends, sharing a coffee mid morning, elbows on the table and just chatting to each other.  Facebook seems more clinical.  I think it still has the student-based feel about it, where one looks for the clever turn of phrase, the latest news and what is “on trend” at the moment. For me, Myspace is like the old sweater, comfy, not particularly fashionable, but you can’t quite relinquish it.  Facebook is the new shirt with the stiff collar that looks great but you can’t quite wait to get home to take it off.

Colour me yellow like the desert sands
trickling beneath the soles of my feet
Colour me red as the sun sets above
reflecting the beauty and power of love

Colour me green like the grass underfoot
and the jealous eyes of the slant eyed cat
Colour me purple, a blackberry stain
Majestic and regal like those who reign

Colour me white so my feelings are pure
and free from hate or bitterness
Colour me brown so that I may know
comfort and strength from the earth below

Colour me black for sadness and loss
when pain and heartache lie within
Colour me pink as the sweetest rose
with love for food it thrives and grows

Colour me a rainbow with many hues
bestowing happiness and light
A buoyant spirit straight from the skies
Blazing colour that burns and then dies.

Pandora

“I remember,” he whispered softly

She listened smiling but answered not

"Don't you?" he asked, persistent now

He wanted her to unlock that place

deep inside, locked and barred

where the knowledge resided

safe, disarmed and undisturbed


In captivity and darkness dwelt

the prison where the memories lay

unbidden, waiting to see daylight

Easier than allowing their release

to derive their power and once again

inflict their tortuous love

upon her being, injuring her


Would their potency have waned

with the years that lay between?

Or would she find herself again

at their mercy? Vulnerable, exposed

to a passion that burned so bright

His touch once again consuming her

“I remember,” she said, and sighed.

Phyl Wright (c) 2009

I decided not to make any firm resolutions this New Year.  I am the personality type that makes resolutions month by month, week by week even sometimes day by day.  'Tomorrow I will start running again to become more fit' / 'Next week I'll work harder/smarter' / Next month I'll try and learn another language' /…and so it goes on.  When under least pressure to achieve is when I normally work hardest, being of a contrary disposition to boot.

What I have decided though, is to make a conscious effort to live more ethically in terms of carbon footprints etc.  I suppose, like everyone, the whole concept of humans actually causing harm to the planet has permeated my brain slowly over a number of years. Now I would like to be more pro-active in trying to do things that will reduce the carbon footprint of our household.

Some things are already in place.  We now have one small car rather than a large car and a small car.  As someone who both hates driving except when necessary and is a terrible driver anyway, we worked out that it was a cost that we couldn't really justify to have two cars on the road.  Sometimes Mark is able to take the train which means I have the car the odd day, but quite honestly this decision to downsize was down to economics of the situation rather than any attempt to live a more green existence.

With bags in supermarket, I was only to happy to embrace the bag for life, opting usually for the nice Hessian ones rather than the durable (but still plastic) models.  I do admit a predilection for the large Hessian bag from Tesco with the little ladybirds running up the side.  I know, wrong consideration entirely!

Recycling is something the council is keen on, and we have boxes for sorting/recycling.  The only problem with this, is that despite containers being labelled with the recycling logo, the people who empty these boxes work on some odd arbitrary system of taking some things one week and refusing them the next.  So I always find a collection of stuff left over which then makes it way into the general household bin.  As well as this, the firm is outrageously messy and manages to tip many of the contents onto the street.  As this necessitates more street cleaning, I am not sure how many green points this scores.

Supermarket shopping is one area where I feel strongly about the amount of wasteful packaging.  I have heard that in Germany, many people now unpack the unwanted packaging in the store and leave it for the equivalent of Sainsbury to sort out.  I can't actually see myself being that Eco warrior, but part of me would like to.

Home cleaning remedies are easy and I am happy to make those - white vinegar, bicarbonate of soda and lemon juice anyone? - or buy environmentally friendly cleaners, some of the cleaning chemicals on supermarket shelves contain horrendous toxins which end up going down our drains and finding their way into our bodies.

We have decided to sign up for a scheme to receive a box of organic fruit and vegetables every week.  These will be local and seasonal.  I am not promising to give up exotic fruit and veg, no, please, not a life without artichokes – but at least it is a step closer to some sort of greener solution.  Having read that some vegetables can be sprayed with up to 35 pesticides, I think it has to be healthier.  The other option is of course to grow our own.  Our one trial of growing carrots failed miserably although we do get apples from the apple tree and the herbs were fine last year.  Having got fed up pulling weeds out by hand last summer (or what passed for a summer), I eventually reverted to a spray weedkiller so my garden is probably not very organic. There must be home remedies for weed killing  surely?  Hopefully this summer we might manage to coax a few vegetables to grow...

We can't do anything about our hardwood floors, which are down now, bamboo is much more sustainable, but we can reinsulate our loft which badly needs done.  We have energy saving light bulbs in most of the lights except the recessed ones, again not for green purposes but because I just have to flick a light on to either blow an ordinary bulb immediately or fuse the entire house.  This has happened frequently and Mark is convinced that I must do something distinctly odd when I put a light switch on. I disagree, I mean – surely there is only one way of switching a light on?

Looking at our bath and shower products I am horrified that most of them contain Sodium Laureth Sulfate which many believe is carcinogenic.  What is wrong with a really nice soap – we currently have a lovely French milled one which smells delicious and is not full of horrid chemicals aping 'fresh fragances.'

 I can't give up all my lotions and potions but will try to make more effort to look at the companies behind them.  Many companies not only test on animals, but have business interest in countries where they prop up bad regimes for the sake of profit.

To be honest, we are just starting out to examine these ethical considerations and to try and make a small difference. I'm sure we have a long way to go and although I think we will be living a greener life by the end of this year, I realise that some things (like going abroad, or buying nice clothes rather than eco-clothes), we are just too selfish to give up at the moment. 

 As (light green) novices, feel free to pass on any views and advice you may have to offer.

Okay - just having a rant about the Horizon documentary which was shown on BBC2  this week.  Called (unbelievably), "How Mad Are You?"  Time was when BBC documentaries tried to avoid the gimmicks used by  pseudo  documentaries on other stations, or try to emulate the reality tv shows so beloved of the rating chasing producers.

Apparently to quote,  the documentary "aims to make viewers question their notions of mental illness." Well, what a very worthy title, pardon me for thinking that it was some sensational headline grabbing ruse to persuade viewers to tune in. 

The 'science documentary' put five people with mental illnesses alongside five "normal" people in a house, and challenged experts to identify which was which.  Their description, not mine. Not only were the categories distasteful and plain offensive, but  they weren't questioned at any time by the so-called experts or participants either.  I thought the whole thing was both ethically and morally wrong and had no basis in scientific research.  Just a sad excuse to entice people to become voyeurs at the expense of vulnerable people who, yes I know, must have agreed to participate.  Unfortunately too often television exposes  the vulnerable but at least reality shows make no bones about it unlike the BBC pretending it is some great scientific experiment.

The programme put the people through a variety of tests and asked the experts to view these, and decide who was suffering from what - the conditions ranged from depression through OCD to schizophrenia.  They made two predictions - one of which was wrong and the other - the OCD sufferer they guessed correctly - not difficult as the person used no strategies to disguise it.  As an OCD sufferer myself, I object very strongly to it (and conditions like depression also),  featured in a programme called "How Mad Are You?" 

The latest research indicates that people with OCD have somewhat different wiring of the brain than other people, this has been demonstrated by scans. It has also been proven that the brain can be "rewired" through CBT as developed by Dr Jeffrey Schwarz - a leading proponent in this field. It takes a lot of hard work but breakthroughs have been made to quite amazing degrees.  It might have been more informative to have made a documentary explaining this and looking and research into the rest of the conditions that the  supposedly "mad" people who took part in this study had.

Unfortunately this kind of car crash television only serves to reinforce the myths and prejudices that surround conditions like OCD and others like it.  Given that at one time or another 80-90% of the population will suffer from depression at one time or another - are we supposed to regard these people as "mad" too?

There is a second part to this documentary where the volunteers will undergo even more tests, so the panel of experts can hazard guesses as to their mental state.   This will really add to everyone's knowledge as well as being hugely entertaining no doubt, as the tests are designed to expose the conditions of the participants. Let's have more blood sports too, while we are at it, if we are going along these lines. With so many worthy topics to pursue, it is a pity that this particular programme was ever considered for screening.  Good to know that the supposedly abnormal people in society can fulfil at least one function - that of providing entertainment to the masses.

Well the book launch was a success, despite the weather that night being arguably the worst I have seen in a long time.  I really appreciated the turnout.  Of course it was wonderful to have my book Somebody Maybe published, and yes, fabulous to have a publisher who believes in me enough to want to publish my work.  Great though the book launch was though, the best moment of all was when my nineteen year old son came up, gave me a huge hug, and told me he was proud of me. This is what is important, achievements of any sort are nice but moments like this are precious!

 I'm proud of all my children of course, for many reasons and one of these is the fact that they are all emotionally competent.  They are all able to verbalise their feelings with little difficulty.  This obviously can lead to some pretty spirited discussions but it does mean there is trust and honesty in sharing feelings.  Trust and responsibility go hand in hand and I think that if the family can encompass both when discussing emotions, then it is good practice for life.

Reverting to my habitual shallowness, I should add that the champagne, chocolates and cake at the launch were pretty good too!

Somebody Maybe is available from amazon.co.uk or amazon.com in the US and I still have a few copies if anyone wants one from me with a  personal message.

Love came unannounced

No warning given,

Arrived at the door one day

Took them unawares

Begged to stay

The years passed by

Love stayed the course

Through passion and tears

Along with their hopes

Desires and fears

Death came unannounced

Waited uninvited

Until life was gone

Brought sadness and pain

But love lived on.

The poem above is for a very dear friend.

Phyl Wright (c) 2008