tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5191236368240985312023-11-22T23:40:21.645+00:00Ruminations of a Cheshire CatCheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-37315548471750971452016-07-18T12:22:00.000+01:002016-07-18T12:22:01.503+01:00Feeling a FailureMore often than not, these days, I catch myself wondering when I am going to be found out. When is someone going to realise that I am not a proper grown up and don't really have a clue how to achieve the things that I am theoretically already "supposed" to have or have done? How has my lack of certainty not been obvious to everyone that comes in contact with me? Where is this life I am supposed to have managed to create for myself? <br />
<br />
I know that I am not the only one to feel like a bit of a fraud, wandering through life waiting for someone to point and start laughing. It isn't even like I have a great job/relationship/house/etc. to feel fraudulent about, either. The above response is one that I expect to get for just being me. Or rather, for not even being good enough at just being me. <br />
<br />
We all make choices, and I don't regret mine when it comes down to it. But I do have a deep rooted fear of being a failure... which is also what I firmly believe I am in many respects. Contradictory as that may seem. Every time I take a step away from my life to look at it, all I can see are the failures... the things I have not managed to achieve. And as each year goes by, it gets harder and harder to justify to myself that those failures are not as absolute as they seem. <br />
<br />
When you are younger, it is easier to tell yourself that it is ok you haven't found that job/relationship/income/home yet, because you have plenty of time to do all of that. "It will come," people say. And though I am hardly on death's door, I have reached an age that it is getting harder and harder to convince myself of that. What if it never does come? What if I have blindly missed my chances somehow or am simply never meant to have any of those things? What if, deep down, I really have just failed at this thing called life? At what point do you have to reconcile yourself to never having these things? <br />
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<br />
<br />Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-9725472206733032472016-07-16T21:35:00.001+01:002016-07-16T21:35:44.651+01:00Comparing Me to MeComparisons will be the death of my self-worth. <br />
<br />
"So, don't compare," you say.<br />
"If you know how to do that, please teach me how," would be my response. <br />
<br />
I have this strange binary that exists when I think about myself - especially my physical self. <br />
<br />
On one hand, I can admit that I am not hideously unfortunate in my appearance. On the other, I have trouble acknowledging anything good and know full well I don't sit anywhere near the terribly attractive end of the scale. I can stand in front of a mirror and be sort of ok with what I see (if I don't look too closely or too long), but put me beside other people and the bile and vitriol I immediately douse my self-assessment in is astounding. <br />
<br />
The same thing happens when I think about love. There is a part of me that refuses to give up hope that there is a chance someone out there could love me... whilst another voice is also constantly telling me that history has proven that no one ever could. <br />
<br />
And yes, this is a very me-centric circle of torment as well. I am fully aware of that. I see the beauty or appeal in the people around me (who are not all model perfect or with the soulmate of their dreams, I promise). I firmly believe that they are attractive and wonderful... whether they have found their own inner acceptance of it or not. So, I do try to bite my tongue when someone tries to tell me that they see something in me that I don't. <br />
<br />
The problem is, I can't get past what I have become in relation to what I always thought I would be. As easy as it is to compare myself with the people around me and come up lacking, it is the comparison with the self that I am never going to become that fuels and worries me more. The effortlessly successful woman with the amazing guy, career, and twenty-five inch waist is never going to be me. And yet, I compare myself to her constantly. <br />
<br />
In those comparisons, I am easily hideous. I am disgusting and barely worthy of pity. My inability to make myself better, thinner, more successful... anything other than what I am... is frustrating and demoralising. It is only that small contradictory presence (it isn't really a voice, as it doesn't speak up or make itself known very often... but somehow, I feel it is there) that keeps me able to walk out of the door when I have to. Or allows me to hold my head up when I am in public. And I am terrified of the day that that presence is no longer there. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-67664207676678870112016-05-29T15:43:00.000+01:002016-05-29T15:43:05.554+01:00The One vs The Many<br />
All too often at the moment, I look at the news and am overwhelmed with the scope of unrest, damage, pain, or other negative images and stories. And as much as I hate to admit it, it is often hard to humanise the stories unless I have a specific connection or insight to them.<br />
<br />
The tragedy in Fort McMurray, recently, for example... I could see the horrible things that were occurring, but I didn't emotionally invest anything in the story until I began to think about the people I know who are there. Even though these people were not directly involved, I suddenly had an emotional tie to the whole ordeal and watched further reports with more of an emotional than intellectual involvement. <br />
<br />
I question whether it is me that is 'at fault' for this lack of an empathic response or if it is a combination of being constantly exposed to similar stories, presented in fairly detached news reports, and the general inability to connect with every story of loss or pain without losing your hold on yourself. <br />
<br />
Sometimes it is too easy these days to disassociate. We are bombarded with images of pain and devastation and become desensitised to the actual effects. Why does it take terrible things landing close to home to make us respond?Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-74959757811079163652016-05-23T14:17:00.000+01:002016-05-23T14:17:03.040+01:00Writing for good or for evil?A long time ago, I jokingly (and lovingly) made the comment that some hockey
players needed a picture book to remind them of a few little things that were
integral to the game. "You are on ice. Ice is slippery," being the
first thing that many seem to forget as they go to take off after someone and
fall flat on their backs. In the same way, I do sometimes wonder if a similar
guide for writers would be helpful. "If your main character is
un-likeable, chances are, your readers won't like them - which might hurt the
book," would be the first thing I would say. And for those who think that
they can throw the rules of grammar out the window... think again, buddy. There
are reasons that the conventions exist. Spaces, punctuation, capitalisation,
all of it exists to assist the reader. The less the reader notices it, the more
they can be drawn into your story. Yes, you are allowed to have your own
idiosyncrasies, but you are not allowed to turn the English language upside
down and ask your readers to read from right to left. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Sorry. I started to rant there. That wasn't the point of this post... I love
writers. I honestly think they have accomplished something amazing if they
manage to complete something and get it to a point that they want others to see
it. It is something I could never do. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
What I was trying to say was that I often feel like I am a bad person for caring about grammar, spelling, or story development. I don't expect anyone to share my enamoured view of character and plot tropes or my vehemence about the Oxford comma. But I don't want to feel ashamed of any of that either. <br />
<br />
In an age of text speak and emojis, have I become a dinosaur purely because of my love of the language that has been somewhat overtaken by 'convenience'? Does my refusal to use numbers within words or remove all the vowels constitute a terminal disease? And as far as prospective authors go, am I smothering the creative genius that is distinguishing the good guys in a novel from the bad ones by the capital vowels used (or not) when referring to "ThEm" or "Them" if I refuse to accept that as a valid construct? If I prefer the sentence itself to make it clear?<br />
<br />
When did wanting the quality of the story and the clarity of good prose to be the only champions a writer needed become a bad thing? Or have we become the old Vaudeville adage from Gypsy- "You gotta get a gimmick"? I certainly hope not. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-37243700840163716152016-05-18T23:52:00.000+01:002016-05-19T15:39:25.566+01:00On the EdgeI have had a funny feeling lately that I am constantly on an edge. It doesn't matter what part of my life I think about, an edge is there. <br />
<br />
Emotionally, I have been teetering between futility, anger, dejection, and loathing just barely holding on to the façade that I need to present to the world to function. Physically, my knees are playing up and my back has decided to spasm. If those go over the edge, I am pretty limited in what I am capable of. Mentally, I can't seem to do anything right at the moment, with the pressure of constantly feeling like a failure, or just not quite good enough at anything, mounting as each example of my ineptitude is tallied. <br />
<br />
I know this is not a good place to be in any of the above respects. I can also understand why an outsider might not see things the way I do. But they don't have to live in my head or my life. And recently, I have not found many people who actually can understand how to empathise. Feeling isolated is making it all worse. <br />
<br />
Every thing I do at the moment is a struggle. I have to convince myself to do things that should just happen. I have to convince myself <i>not</i> to do things that I know make it worse. (I am far less successful at this one. Damn my destructive behaviour patterns.) My self-worth and self-confidence have taken a massive beating and are clinging to life on tenuous threads. (Not that they have ever been excessively healthy to begin with!) And the sad thing is, I know a lot of it is in my head. Yes, there are external circumstances that are playing into the negatives that I am struggling with at the moment. Life is hard. I have chosen a specifically difficult path for myself. But being trapped in this loop is making every little thing amplified and harder to deal with, and I am slowly losing my grasp on the things that keep me <i>me</i>. <br />
<br />
I am well aware that there is little anyone else can do to help - aside from handing me a massive wad of cash, a perfect career opportunity, a community to fit into and feel connected to, and a magic wand to take away all of the internal scars I battle constantly. (Somehow, none of those seems likely... so I am not holding out hope.) It has been a long time since I have felt that there is really something wonderful in my life... and a part of me no longer believes there can or will be again. But at the moment, it is still a part... which means there is still a part that hopes. A part of me that dreams of better times and bigger things. No matter what my past has shown me so far. So if you need me, I will be clinging to the edge of that hope too. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-33422008702176983892015-08-05T21:20:00.000+01:002015-08-05T21:20:36.203+01:00Angry TearsWhy does my automatic response when I get angry or upset have to be tears? <br />
<br />
I have been involved in a couple of encounters lately that have made my blood boil. People have managed to get me riled up. And though I have managed to keep my cool during the encounters for the most part, as soon as the door closes behind me in my own space, I break down. And not just with soft, sweet tears. I mean, sobbing. <br />
<br />
So, whilst I am thankful that I have managed not to break down in front of the offending parties (because that would invariably make me seen as the "hysterical woman" who can be dismissed entirely), my tears tend to fuel my anger... and then the anger fuels my tears... and so we continue ad infinitum. (Or at least until I manage to breathe enough to slow the process down a little and my mind is able to step away from the situation. Even I can't cry forever.)<br />
<br />
And why do I have to react that way? That is what really annoys me. I have googled - and found nothing that really explains it. I have had sharp words with myself about not letting it happen again in future - but that hasn't worked. Time after time, I get so emotionally caught up in the anger that I shake with pent up emotion and then cry. <br />
<br />
I don't mind crying when I am upset about something or when it is socially acceptable to cry, my issue is not with the crying itself. It is just that crying when angry undermines my position and makes it easier for my whole point of view to be pushed aside and disregarded. It hardly seems like an advantageous thing for my body to do. (That is one of the theories on why we cry... do your own googling and see.)<br />
<br />
Gah. Sometimes the whole thing just makes me so angry I could.... cry. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-51825972008571417542015-07-19T00:37:00.001+01:002016-05-19T15:39:56.258+01:00A Letter to the Divine Ms Midler<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I know you have heard these words a lot over the last few
months, but thank you. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I have seen the amazing connections you have made with the exceptionally
lucky fans who have been a part of your meet and greet sessions, the touching
stories that have come out about how you and your music have changed people’s
lives, and the general joy that has been expressed at your embracing this tour.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Buying the tickets to your show was a momentous moment for
me, but I did not realise quite how much of an impact the show – and you – were
going to make on me until I was at the O2 tonight (July 18<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>) and
you stood up from your opening reveal and took the stage for two stunning hours
that were a masterclass in showcraft, talent, and a little bit of smut. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">As someone who has immersed herself in your career, I
thought I knew what I was in for. I knew the music, had seen all the videos of
your past concerts, and have even crafted two shows of my own that are dedicated
to you and your career. Whilst creating and performing my ‘Bette’ shows, I have
learned so much about myself as a performer and about myself in general. I have
loved every (sometimes terrifying, occasionally demoralising, but more often
than not exhilarating) moment of it. Without those shows, I would be a very
different performer – and, I think, even a different person. So when the tears
began to prick at my eyes for no understandable reason during the first two
numbers (I managed to keep the waterworks at bay until The Rose… since then, I
have been like a leaky faucet), I figured it was just the excitement that I was
feeling at finally being able to see you perform live. But I was wrong. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’d thought I understood just how good you are… but in that I
was wrong too. And thank you so much for that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">What you showed me tonight has re-framed the performer I
aspire to be. You were class, vivacity, sass, and an emotional wallop all
rolled into one. I could easily wax lyrical about how amazing you were (and
actually did, but deleted it for sake of brevity – why repeat what everyone who
has seen your tour is saying?) but I want to go back to that thank you. Tonight
you made me remember what it was like to feel completely and utterly in awe of someone’s
raw (and so very polished) talent. You were a slap in my face… in the best
possible way. I now remember, more than I have in a long time, why I love what
I have devoted my life to and how much harder I have to work to stick with it
and continue to grow, why I can’t let something stop me from at least trying to
follow my dreams as far as they will take me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">There is so much more that I would love to be able to say to
you… and even more that I would love to hear you talk about… but I hope that
somehow, you see this, and know that there is one more life out there that you
have changed intrinsically. And that I am so very, very grateful for that. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
</div>
Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-9430410449305188922015-05-16T23:35:00.000+01:002015-05-16T23:35:31.397+01:00Words, Words, Words!Let's just start by saying that I love words - specifically the written ones.<br />
<br />
I love the way they fit together, make sense of the nonsensical, evoke emotions, and generally allow us to explore and discuss the world as we know it. I love their rhythms, their sounds, and the many layers of meaning and context we can discern through careful word choice. Because of this, I can get a little passionate about some things that other people might think inane. <br />
<br />
Take the Oxford comma, for example. I love it. I remember sitting in my sixth grade classroom and listening to the teacher explain why it was necessary to use a comma for every part of a list. At the time, I had no idea it was called the Oxford comma or even that there was as much of a debate around it as there is. (If you don't know what I am talking about, you probably have more of a life than I do. Congratulations. I envy you.) But now, I am a staunch supporter and will defend my right to use it until the end. <br />
<br />
Because of this love of word craft (and a strong internal censor that prevents me from getting past a page or two should I personally attempt anything fictional with a beginning, middle, and an end), I started editing books. I help other people polish their words/stories into the best that they can be. (Which has immediately made everyone start looking for errors in my posts... which I am sure they will find. No one is perfect, and I am usually a little emotionally driven when writing on here, which doesn't lead to the best attention to detail!) <br />
<br />
It is rewarding and interesting work - if at times requiring an eye-crossing amount of focus. But it can also make me want to shout from the rooftops that just because two words sound similar when you say them, it doesn't make them interchangeable. (Homonyms might just be the death of me.) Or that apostrophes don't make things plural! And when rooftops are not available, sometimes social media has to do. <br />
<br />
This post is to emphasise that there are many of us out there with a highly-strung grammatical compass; for those of us who suffer from this affliction, the internet is a pretty scary place. <br />
<br />
Admittedly, all of this might make me the person that most other people roll their eyes at. Instead of posting pictures of cats/dogs/children or political rants on Facebook, I am the one posting grammar related sayings and comic strips. I can't help myself. <br />
<br />
So, take pity on your grammar conscious friends. Know that we don't mean to be pedants any more than you mean to post pictures and videos of animals doing "funny" things fifteen times a day. We are human. I promise. And when we get into one of our moods, smile knowingly and nod your head whilst backing away slowly unless you want to be caught in our maelstrom. (In which case, we are always up for a good debate!)<br />
<br />Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-6092096945596663442015-05-08T00:20:00.000+01:002015-05-08T00:20:17.891+01:00Apples anyone?I am sitting here drinking chamomile tea out of a mug with the Evil Queen from Snow White on it and feeling very much the way that I assume she felt when looking at Snow White in the mirror. She must have felt that her whole world was about to fall to pieces around her... and that none of it was in her control. She was going to lose her home, her job, the respect and love of the people around her... ok, I don't feel the murderous rage towards another person that she obviously felt, and I would like to think that I have a little more compassion and ability to see the big picture, but I identify with the feeling of failure that she must have felt at that moment. To have been chasing a dream (silly though it may seem to us, it was her dream to be the fairest of them all) and have it crumble away from you despite everything that you try to do to stop it... well... I identify. I have been chasing dreams and trying desperately to hold on to something that was always just out of reach for so long now that I don't know if I am solidly unwavering in my convictions, stubborn, or just plain deluded. And I can't help thinking that at least she had her dream for a little while. <br />
<br />
Ok, I know, I may be giving the Evil Queen too much credit. Maybe she was simply a vain, egotistical, megalomaniac. (I am pretty sure that no matter what my issues may be, most of that is not applicable to me!) But I can't help but feeling a little bit of a connection to someone that had her world fall apart around her despite her best efforts to hold it all together. Perhaps I am simply looking to find my problems in someone else's experience and hers is the closest to me. (Literally. The mug is right beside me as I type.)<br />
<br />
I just can't help but feel that I am somehow the reason that my life isn't working out. That I am the spanner in my own works. And objectively, in a lot of ways, I am. It is the choices I have made that have made my life what it is. I won't blame anyone else for that. If only there was a pause... or a rewind... on life. Sometimes I just feel that I need a bit of time to be able to get things under control before the world starts spinning again. <br />
<br />
So to anyone also feeling a little like the villain in their own movie... I hear ya. Maybe there was something to the sleeping spell apple after all...Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-24456548051440552532014-10-22T10:32:00.001+01:002014-10-22T10:37:09.496+01:00More Theatrical Griping... yes, here it comes. <br />
<br />
I recently read an article by Mark Shenton of The Stage <a href="http://www.thestage.co.uk/opinion/shenton/2014/10/is-antisocial-audience-behaviour-getting-worse/?utm_content=buffera9a61&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer" target="_blank">(read it here)</a> that discussed the growing lack of theatre etiquette. And though I didn't mention it specifically in my previous theatrically themed post, I too have been frustrated with this trend and gobsmacked at the audacity of people around me at the theatre recently. <br />
<br />
For me it all really started a few years ago when I went to see the then new production Dirty Dancing. Though I had many issues with the adaptation and the translation of the much loved film for stage that I would have preferred to be thinking about - since this was my first time seeing the new show - I was overwhelmed with the desire to murder 85% of the audience instead. <br />
<br />
Now, that show was pitched at hen parties and groups of women that were out for a girls' night, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. That also allowed me at the time to dismiss the actions that occurred as a very show specific phenomenon. The sheer lack of respect for the performers, the show, and the rest of the audience appalled me. This was the first time that I had been to the theatre and actually had people around me catcalling during a serious and touching scene, purely because the lead actor took off his shirt. There were wolf whistles, people singing along (badly), and a general hum of conversation throughout. <br />
<br />
I will admit that experience was somewhat of an extreme. But I have also been in a theatre where the child behind me kicked my seat for the entirety of the first act, and when I turned around to politely ask the child not to, was given the dirtiest look by the mother. Most recently, a woman in front of me pulled her phone out in the middle of the first act of a show and started replying to texts and emails - I could see her typing "I am at the theatre" and thought that it would be a one off message that must have been to someone very important, like the Queen or her on-call plastic surgeon, but no... she then opened up the next message and started to write a reply. With my light tap on her shoulder, she did - to give her credit - pull the phone flat to her chest and put it away. But she did not even acknowledge me at that point, at the interval, or after the show. If I had not touched her on the shoulder and brought her back to the obviously easy to forget reality that she was staring at a light source in a darkened room whilst hard working performers were trying to draw the people around her into another time and place, she may well have continued indefinitely. <br />
<br />
As a young foreigner on my first trips over the pond (many, many years ago), I was astounded at my first trips to London theatre. The venues were grander than anything I had seen and the people more relaxed and comfortable there than I had ever imagined. The dress code was more casual, and frankly, it took me a long time to be comfortable with the fact that ice cream was available <em>to be eaten in your seat! </em>What crazy madness was this? Something that could make a mess of the seats and floor was actively encouraged? Brits were obviously much more conscientious and responsible than those of us in the colonies. We were never even allowed to take drinks in to an auditorium. I was awed by the way that theatre fit into this culture so intrinsically and wanted to be a part of that. <br />
<br />
But that same relaxed atmosphere that made me love London and its people for their easy acceptance of theatre as a regular way of life seems to have slipped too far. I had assumed that the reason that ice creams and drinks were allowed in the theatres was because people were respectful enough not to make a mess. I thought that the walk in off the street dress code was showing how much a part of every day life the theatre was here. (Friends here as tourists have asked me what they needed to wear if they were off to the theatre - so the high number of tourists in audiences cannot entirely be blamed for a lowered dress code.) And to some extent I was right. But that relaxed atmosphere has also led to the complete lack of respect that some theatre patrons now show for the art form they are attending. <br />
<br />
Some of it probably comes from our habit of texting or playing around with a computer whilst watching a movie at home, or the ego-centric "no one will notice if I just break this little rule" mentality that is oddly celebrated in today's celebrities and media. But no matter where it is starting, it is hurting the theatre experience for everyone. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-1715451697019284652014-10-15T20:39:00.001+01:002014-10-15T20:39:53.595+01:00I won't stand for it. So, last night, I went to the theatre. It was a bit of an impromptu visit, as I was given the tickets at noon that day, but as it was to see a new show, I wasn't about to turn them down! This is not a review... or even a specific reflection of that show, but rather a general comment about theatre that was sparked by my experience last night.<br />
<br />
One of my pet peeves in any sort of theatre right now is the automatic standing ovation. No matter what you go see, people seem to think that if it has managed to make it to a West End stage, it deserves a standing ovation. Or maybe it is just that the majority of the audience has had to sell the rights to their first-born child's internal organs in order to afford the tickets to some of the big names, so they are determined that it will be the most amazing show that they have ever seen - reality be darned.<br />
<br />
Personally, I only want to stand up for a performance that was truly exceptional - be that a show as a whole or one performer in particular. That is not going to be EVERY single show that I go to see. Most shows out there are good in one way or another. They are professional level productions that have a lot of things going for them, but exceptional - by its very definition - cannot be found with every ticket. So, I try to only stand when I really mean it. <br />
<br />
If you don't already know me, I will pretty much go see anything theatre-ish. Of course, do I have my preferences and personal favourites. With a background in musical theatre, I will admit to having a very large affinity for anything that moves me through that medium. But I am utterly annoyed by the habit that has emerged for jukebox musicals to include 5-10 minutes of 'mega-mix' at the end of the show that requires the audience to party along with them. The forced and false standing ovation that then is created at the end of every show is frustrating for me. (Don't even get me started on the seventeen curtain calls that seem to go along with every show these days too.)<br />
<br />
Now, It is mostly jukebox musicals that have done this... and they do it because they have modelled themselves on the super successes like Mamma Mia. But I have a problem with the concept itself. I have come to watch a theatre production, not a concert. Because of that, I have just spent the better part of two hours trying to believe in the world that has been presented for me on the stage. To then suddenly ask me to participate in that world is a jarring and unwelcome finish as far as I am concerned. To me, it devalues the theatre that has come before it. It asks me to forget the characters and story that you have just invested two hours of your time in and instead highlights that it was actually all about forcing that song you knew from somewhere else into a calculated framework. Not to mention the automatic standing ovation it creates at the final bows - which I take exception to as mentioned above. <br />
<br />
Perhaps that is purist of me. Maybe it is old-fashioned. Do you like the 'mega-mix' endings?Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-37288078889980998092014-10-07T13:33:00.001+01:002014-10-07T13:33:41.233+01:00People, people who need people......are the luckiest people in the --<br />
Wait.... really? Luckiest?<br />
<br />
I am a person that hates crowds. I live in one of the largest/busiest cities in the world, and yet, I hate being confronted with masses of people as I attempt to go about my daily tasks. This means that I spend a lot of time muttering under my breath at the people who step off a tube train and just stop, or the ones that try to get on before people have gotten out, or the ones that stand on the left side of the escalators... but enough about tubes. I mutter about the people who are walking down the street and then turn around on themselves and walk straight into you, the people that dawdle, the ones that walk three people across on a sidewalk and don't even try to allow room for those coming the other way... and my list goes on. <br />
<br />
But for all the muttering and cursing that I do regularly under my breath about people as a whole, it is not as common that I have thought about the impact that one or two people have on a smaller group. <br />
<br />
When in a large group, people are stupid. That is just the way it is. En mass, they react with herd mentality. No one is really individual and no one person affects the whole. And yet, I can feel very individual in that instance as I can go against the flow, make my own choices, and I don't have to worry as much about the emotional impact my actions or emotions have on the people around me because they are just a part of the whole.<br />
<br />
But smaller groups, they get tricky. It seems that the smaller the group, the larger the impact of any one member. If there are five people in a room and one is in a terrible mood... the others will feel that much more than if there were fifty people there. Awkwardness, annoyance, unease, and uncertainty breed in small groups with one (or more) negative member. It is an instantaneous thing. Positive emotions seem to have a much lower contagion rate, but they still do have a stronger impact in smaller groups than larger ones. <br />
<br />
So, do I, the crowd avoider, really have the right grasp on things? Should I allow the masses of people that annoy the bejeezus about of me a pardon? They give me an excuse to isolate myself in my own world, and they insulate me from the uncomfortable necessity of dealing with individuals at all times. If I were a crowd lover, would that make me more social in general? Would I see the positives in people more often? Or am I just forgetting that with human connection comes the risk of negativity - which isn't really that bad when you contemplate all the good things that can come out of actually interacting with another sentient being. I mean, my inanimate objects are pretty good at listening, but they are not the best conversationalists and most of them aren't very good at hugs. <br />
<br />
Everybody needs a good hug every now and again, right?Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-2822369878609939722014-09-23T21:48:00.000+01:002014-09-23T21:48:00.063+01:00ContradictionsFor some time now - practically all of my life - I have struggled with a number of deeply held contradictions. I feel that I could be good enough to achieve my dreams but not good enough to believe in myself to a point that I can shout it to the world or actually realise them. I believe that I deserve love, but I don't believe that anyone could love me. I feel that I can be attractive but never pretty or beautiful. There are a lot of things that fight it out in my head.<br />
<br />
These are all extremely harmful beliefs to hold as closely as I do, and my self-image and self-worth have taken a beating because of it. But part of me is happy that the contradictions are there. At least part of me believes in myself and that is something that I wouldn't change for the world. It means there is hope. <br />
<br />
I don't expect to change overnight. I don't even expect to know that I am changing. But I do believe that it is possible. As long as I still have those conflicting beliefs, part of me will not give up trying to make the rest of me believe it. <br />
<br />
Of course, I have my days that I can't hear that tiny voice at all. It gets completely drowned out in the plethora of negative voices that generally rule my internal monologue. But I am working on that. I learned long ago that one thing I could do was keep going. So that is what I will do. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-86332225472833229282014-09-18T09:59:00.000+01:002014-09-18T09:59:35.366+01:00You are getting sleepy....Yesterday I did something that, today, I still don't know quite how I feel about. I went to a hypnotist. <br />
<br />
After my little meltdown last week, a friend suggested I go to the same person that he had seen. Now, I have seen this friend make huge strides in his life and have been so happy that he has managed to find a place for himself that he is not only happy in, but also thriving in. So the voice inside my head - the rational one, not the crazy one - figured that it couldn't hurt to try what he did. <br />
<br />
The session was an hour and a half long, most of which was background. Background for me about what would be happening and what to expect, and background for him on me and my particular quirks, foibles, and hoped for outcomes. The last 35 minutes or so was the actual hypnosis. <br />
<br />
Now, I have to say that I didn't feel anything specifically change within my awareness - I was conscious the whole time, and I simply felt that I was relaxed and allowing myself to listen. So, that was a little different to my expectation. I thought that I would fall asleep - or black out sections - or something. I was told that this session was to work on the general pillars of calm, relaxation, good sleep, control, and something else that I have already forgotten, and that next session would go more specifically into the things that I wanted to address. <br />
<br />
On 'awaking', I did seem to have a silly smile plastered on my face. I don't really know where that came from, but it was undeniably there. I did feel good. (I crashed a bit later that afternoon and desperately wanted a nap at about 4:30, but I left his office feeling rested.) <br />
<br />
I do know that there is no such thing as an immediate or magical fix to all of life's problems and the myriad of issues that have been hardwired into my brain over the last 34 years, but I have to admit that I was wondering how/if the session would manifest in my everyday life. Well, I didn't have to wait long. <br />
<br />
Last night was one of the most peculiar experiences I have had in terms of sleep patterns and how an interrupted sleep has affected me. Uncommonly, I woke up at least three times during the night. Once I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, but the other two times I stayed in bed and simply tried to go back to sleep. Other than the fact that I don't usually wake that often, my almost instant awareness during those periods was definitely strange to me.<br />
<br />
Usually, on the rare occasion that I do wake in the middle of the night, I stumble down the hallway and into the bathroom, do my business, stumble back, and barely crack an eyelid if I can help it. Last night, not only did my body feel much lighter than on its other mid night treks, but my brain was actually relatively alert too. I remember everything that happened. (Which never happens!)<br />
<br />
This alertness was strange, and not entirely beneficial as I spent the last hour of my sleep tossing and turning after awaking an hour before my alarm but not being ready to give up the mantle of sleep just yet. It was frustrating to have one part of me be so ready to be awake and another so desperate to go back to sleep. <br />
<br />
I awoke with my alarm this morning though. And without snoozing my habitual three times, I was up. My eyes complained and were grainy, but my brain and body felt like they had been up for ages - which in some sense, I suppose they had been. So what should have been one of the most disturbed and sectioned sleeps that I have had in recent memory has turned into something that I actually awoke from feeling generally ok. <br />
<br />
I don't know what to read into this, or even if the trend will continue but settle - allowing me to sleep without the interruptions but still awake feeling as immediately refreshed as I can - only time will tell. But I do find it interesting that there is a demonstrable effect from something that seemed so simple at the time. I am therefore - before today has even started - eager to know what tomorrow morning will bring. It is a strange thing. I will keep you posted. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-12809089247254127672014-09-07T16:03:00.000+01:002014-09-07T16:04:36.680+01:00The joys of being an adultSo, yesterday was my birthday party. <br />
<br />
Being that I am not usually a fan of birthday parties, I usually try to avoid them like the plague, get guilted into doing something last minute, tell people far too late for them to actually be free, and have no one show up. This year, for whatever reason, I actually gave people a month's notice. <em>How responsible of me.</em> <br />
<br />
I also decided, as I usually do, that I needed to do something to make it worth the trip for my guests. <em>I know, I shouldn't think that people need more than the allure of my company to attend but I do.</em> So, I hired a bouncy castle. <br />
<br />
Yes, you heard me correctly. <br />
<br />
At 8am yesterday morning, the bouncy castle guys showed up with a bit of machinery and a roll of heavy duty plastic. By 8:30, I had a backyard filled with bouncy castle. The compulsion to spend the rest of the morning just sitting in it for the heck of it was strong, but I had other things still to prepare before my guests arrived. I certainly didn't think they would appreciate an un-showered, still in her pj's host simply because I didn't want to leave the bouncy castle. <br />
<br />
So, I did the responsible thing and got the house, and myself, ready for the influx of people that I was now sure were going to arrive based on the attractions of the bouncy castle that I was already so strongly feeling. <br />
<br />
The time came. Guests arrived. Food was eaten and bouncing was done. Small children were hurled at the castle walls by their father. Large children (<em>adults</em>) tried to bounce each other around. The castle's drawbridge was the communal resting place. And for once, people gathered outside and not in the kitchen. Mingling happened. The day was a success. <br />
<br />
Until the shining knights that had been the bearers of all things wondrous returned. This time, in a new guise. They were there to take my bountiful source of camaraderie and joy away. <br />
<br />
As the hissing air of the melting structure filled my ears (and one of my guests refused to abandon the structure - even through its obvious demise) I couldn't help but realise... <em>ok, I pouted first, then I realised </em>... what a better demonstration of being an adult than having the luxury to choose when to act like a child. Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-53846337731400209772014-08-15T21:02:00.000+01:002014-08-15T21:02:18.060+01:00New congestion chargefor pedestrians - 3p a step for journeys not on London transport. Stay home and blog. So... I have been bullied (lovingly) back onto this space. <br />
<br />
I didn't leave it purposely; I simply felt like I didn't have anything to say and got out of the habit of saying anything at all. But for my own mental sanity, and that of the people around me, perhaps I should have somewhere to dump a little of the excess froth working itself into a lather up there before it starts to come out of my mouth. <br />
<br />
To prove that I was prodded back into this arena, I provide the following. I was having a conversation with a friend who was trying to shove some home truths at me. I apparently said something amusing that he figured was worth sharing, hence my decision to share it here. This was the conversation (picked up after my whining):<br />
<br />
J: Then go and do something fun<br />
<em>Me: Fun costs money</em><br />
J: Like meet up with mates for darts or something<br />
J: It doesn't have to<br />
<em>Me: This is London... leaving your house costs £10.</em><br />
J: Rofl<br />
<em>Me: Breathing outside costs 5p a breath... making eye contact with another human being is £50-200 (depending on attractiveness) which is why no one does it!</em><br />
J: ROFLMAO<br />
<div class="_5wd4 _1nc7 direction_ltr _5yt9" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408122699065=2d80faf1dbd4f885094">
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<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123069019=25c8deb1a98c85fc500.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"></span></span> <span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123069019=25c8deb1a98c85fc500.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null">Maybe you should try writing this stuff down as a hobby - dunno make a blog about moving half way across the world and working your arse off to be financially less secure than your mate who is ten years your junior</span></span></div>
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<div class="_5wd4 _1nc6 direction_ltr _5yt9" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408122711633=2d282d18a432769ce96" title="6:11pm">
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<div class="_5wde" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408122711633=2d282d18a432769ce96.2:0.0">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123109672=2fb6aabb1e14be25e90.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"></span></span> <span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123109672=2fb6aabb1e14be25e90.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null">It would give your mind a break, give you a chance to vent (which reduces stress levels - trust me) plus makes your work more significant (and may attract more people)</span></span></div>
<div class="_5wde" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408122711633=2d282d18a432769ce96.2:0.0">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123109672=2fb6aabb1e14be25e90.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"></span></span> <span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123123193=23f680717d0b9e50f73.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null">Plus give you reflection space - means you can look back on your experiences every so often</span></span></div>
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<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$mid=11408123123193=23f680717d0b9e50f73.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"></span></span><em>Me: <span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".94.$<1408123141641=21956979235-2715656028@mail=1projektitan=1com>.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null">I am financially less secure than the guy panhandling on a street corner!</span></span></em></div>
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J: EXACTLY</div>
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So, there you have it... he has all but guaranteed that if I write here, I will not only be a less stressed person, but also more significant. I must say that I have never seen the correlation before, but since I have dubbed him my social media guru, I suppose I have to listen to him. </div>
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One thing that I always hesitate about on here is how much to reveal about things that are actually happening in my life at the same time as they are happening. I never want my rants to hurt or influence the other people I might be having issues with. Something within me balks as how one sided that sort of rant ends up being. But I have a lot going on in my head right now. I can't guarantee that I will let it all out, but I hope that I can at very least get a bit of perspective. If my mental gymnastics can also be entertaining for someone else, or if what I am going through resonates, then all the better. </div>
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Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-40948685784298722892013-03-12T22:09:00.000+00:002013-03-12T22:09:17.330+00:00Can friends and business relationships mix?I firmly believe in the benefits of skill sharing. If I have a skill that is useful to you, and you have one that I need, why should we not exchange services? Even better if I am able to use such an arrangement to help out friends, right?<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, in the last year, I have had a number of experiences which have made me less than eager to bring friends into a business related endeavour. All those experiences have culminated in this post and in me becoming a big ball of frustration and disappointment when I think about it.<br />
<br />
Part of it comes down to delivering what you have promised when you have promised it. Be there when you say. Do what you have promised. For some reason, there seems to be a lack of understanding that deadlines don't change just because it is a friend doing the work. And even if there isn't a hard deadline, you want things done in good time. By agreeing to do something for someone else, you have to acknowledge that they are then dependant on you to further their business in whatever way you have promised to help. And if you delay, you are hurting their efforts and plans - in essence, their business. <br />
<br />
The other part is the strain that is placed on a friendship in these situations. When one person is unhappy but doesn't feel that they can say anything, it is the friendship that suffers. And what started out as a strong and happy connection turns into a muddy mess. Of course, allowances have to be made for circumstances that change and more leeway is given to a friend that is essentially doing you a favour. <br />
<br />
But when is enough enough? And how do you deal with it when it all gets out of hand? Is it worth sacrificing a friendship to stand up for your business? Do you cut your losses and find someone unconnected to do it? Is the friendship irrevocably changed no matter what you do?<br />
<br />
I don't have answers to these questions. I wish I did. But I know that I am far more wary now than I used to be about counting on friends for professional help. I have seen too many things change this year to be the entirely trusting friend I once was. Or maybe I just expect too much of people. Either way... Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-23944606396384468382012-03-10T23:05:00.000+00:002012-03-10T23:05:19.377+00:00The R wordNo, not recycling. Or reducing or reusing.<br />
<br />
Responsibilities.<br />
<br />
We all have responsibilities. And of course, every responsibility comes with its own (sometimes variable) rating in relation to all the others. What I have been finding interesting lately is the way that I have not only suddenly got a wealth of responsibilities, but also how they all are fighting for priority. Not to mention how my glut of responsibilities is making me more aware of how other people deal with theirs.<br />
<br />
I used to be the kind of busy person that you could give anything to and it would still get done. After a length of time during which I was far from busy, I seem to have lost the effortless approach to a busy schedule that I used to have. That said, things are still getting done and I am forcing the different puzzle pieces to fit. I know that I have brought each of these responsibilities into my life because they are things that I care about and things that I <i>want</i> to have happen. Therefore it is easier to justify the sacrifices of time and sanity to make them work.<br />
<br />
None of it is easy, and by no means is forcing it all to work a calming and relaxing experience at the moment. But because I am choosing to bring these things into my life, I know that I will have to put a social life, steady income, or some other priority lower on my list and I am ok with that.What I wonder at though are the responsibilities people claim they want but then aren't willing to sacrifice anything for when given the opportunity.<br />
<br />
There is always a trade off. Some deals are better than others.You get short term stability in something you love in exchange for longer term stability in something you don't. You give up that long term stability for something that doesn't even cover costs. Or you are simply stuck in the long term soul drainer. All these are examples in only one area of the whole picture.<br />
<br />
Add that to having some professions where long term stability just isn't an option if you are doing what you love. So why is it that the choice to follow your dream, or your training, or even your chosen career path should become one that you are scared to make? If you have a dream, surely you just have to suck it up and get on with it every now and again. Or am I being idealistic?<br />
<br />
Or perhaps the pay check or the stability is just an excuse. For whatever reason, the responsibility isn't right for you and instead of putting your hand up and taking responsibility for your own capabilities and their limits, you fall back on the safety of your hiding place. <br />
<br />
Whilst there are people out there that are still hiding from their responsibilities or refusing to make the sacrifices necessary for them, I have to say I am much more happy to work with the people who aren't scared to go after what they want. These are the people that inspire me.The ones that push their own boundaries but aren't ashamed to admit when they are out of their depth. The people who grab opportunities like a kid with a candy machine. For the rest of them... If you don't want the responsibility, or the sacrifice that comes with it, don't pretend you do.Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-34674478436579059712012-02-20T23:58:00.000+00:002012-02-20T23:58:47.508+00:00Busy Busy Busy!(The title above made me think of bees... which made me think of a song my old dance school used to use for the baby ballet classes every few years. So I now have "Be my little baby bumble bee, buzz around, buzz around, buzz around, keep a buzzin' round!" Going through my head. Great. If you haven't heard the song before and want a great earworm have a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHAtcDNYDcM" target="_blank">listen</a>!<br />
<br />
But this blog entry is not supposed to be about bees. Or earworms. It is about being busy!)<br />
<br />
For a long time I was the amazingly busy person who had tons of things on my plate and didn't seem to realise just how busy I really was. Then my life sort of slowed down. I tried to come up with other projects and avenues to follow to fill it back up again, but still it slowed. To a glacial pace. For years. And now, just when I have turned into that person that I never used to comprehend - who can read an email or a text that I could answer in seconds, think 'I will reply to that later', and never get around to it simply because my brain is moving as slowly as my life - I have suddenly become busy again.<br />
<br />
That's great, you think. Now you can go back to your old ways! But no... here is the rub. In the last few years of being Not Busy, I have forgotten how to be Busy. So now I am living my life in a constant state of panic that I have forgotten something or that I will never get it all done. I keep telling myself that eventually I am bound to relax and get back to the good old me who could deal with all of this with her eyes closed... but I keep waiting and she hasn't shown up yet. <br />
<br />
Now, I haven't given up hope that she will, but I do think I would like her to hurry up a little. I mean, what is keeping her? She is usually so good at being there when someone needs her. Her absence is leaving me here to deal with all this on my own. And heaven knows that is a dangerous thing!<br />
<br />
That said, somehow I seem to be coping. Tightly wound most of the time, but coping. Things are getting done and deadlines are being met. More and more keeps falling in my lap and I am running with it. I mean, it has been ages since I had a chance to say 'yes' to things, why would I say 'no' to any of it now? And oddly it is working. As usual, my life is a jigsaw puzzle with no edges to start at, but the longer I work at it, the more I start to feel that maybe the busy me has actually returned and I just didn't know it. I am feeling more confident in what I am doing, I am taking risks, and I am welcoming new challenges. That doesn't sound like 'I will answer that later' me.<br />
<br />
Maybe I have just forgotten busy me's general stress level - I always did have a fairly high pain threshold - or am simply looking at the past through the rose coloured glasses we like to view our lives through.<br />
<br />
Either way, it is up to me (whichever one of us I am now) to make sure that we get through this.So all we need now is a massage - at least one each to start with please!Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-75867146958224204942012-01-01T04:47:00.000+00:002012-01-01T04:47:14.627+00:00What Does New Years Mean to You?To me, it has usually been a night of enforced revelry - which was rarely as much fun as it was "supposed" to be - followed by the vain hope that magically, things in my life (or things about me) would somehow change. <br />
<br />
A few years ago, after a string of disastrous New Years', I shed the plans and went my own way. I let the day bring me what it would and I ended up having one of the best New Year's Eves that I have ever had. And whilst I don't expect every 'go-my-own-way' New Years to be as wonderfully surprising as that one was, it did teach me to forget the 'requirements' and let go.<br />
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I have since made sure that New Years plans that I did make were ones I would still be interested in on any other night of the year - not some out of character event - and if nothing exceptional comes along, I am happy to spend New Years at home.<br />
<br />
But until this year, New Years has still always held that hope of change and the promise of a new beginning - which would never quite pan out. The thing I had to realise was that, just like birthdays, New Years is just another day in our lives. You don't wake up feeling different, or being different, or have any more right to expect things to be anything other than what they have always been.<br />
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Now, if New Years provides a chance for people to step back, look at their lives, and evaluate how they have been moving through it, great. Because far too often we forget about taking that step back and simply allow our lives to run away with us.<br />
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What I don't like, however, is the pressure to see immediate results should we find something in that evaluation that we don't like. January then becomes a month of forcing yourself to show a complete reversal of whatever category you have highlighted - and when have many of us really kept a New Years resolution for the full year?<br />
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I am not saying that resolutions are futile, or that we shouldn't try to take those steps to change the things in our lives we are not as happy with, merely that there shouldn't be an allocated time and corresponding pressure associated with it.<br />
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Strangely enough, this year feels like it started fresh for me four months ago. That was when things started happening, changes occurred, opportunities presented themselves, and I truly felt as though I had some sort of new beginning. None of that was caused by a focussed intent on massive change - though goodness knows I have been trying for even a modicum of that for years - it wasn't even driven by me primarily, but it happened nonetheless. And I have been cautiously running with it ever since. (I picture it in my head like an egg and spoon race - don't drop the egg!)<br />
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I finally learned that putting my faith in one day to change my life or my outlook, just wasn't going to have the effect I wanted it to. That changes happen at their own pace, and I need to be both open to them and willing to put in a bit of hard work to make them happen.<br />
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So in this season of pressures and hopes, just remember that things can change at any time - and often do whether you will it or not. Enjoy what you do like about what you have, and don't expect miracles to happen overnight.<br />
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(And now for the corny, but heartfelt, ending analogy....)<br />
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Each tomorrow is another day with endless possibilities wrapped up in it; make the most of the possibilities - and the wrapping!<br />
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I intend to.Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-82265190801252300422011-11-06T23:24:00.000+00:002011-11-06T23:24:04.943+00:00Baby Steps and Bubbles of "Meh"In a <a href="http://www.ruminationsofacheshirecat.com/2011/08/facing-past-choices.html" target="_blank">post</a> from three months ago, I talked about a choice that I had made to step away from something I had found a lot of enjoyment in. As well as the realisation that after a year (and a half) I needed to face my associated negative emotional memory and give it another try. A few days ago I managed to take the first real step in that direction - a mere matter of months after I decided I should. (Hey, I never said I wasn't a procrastinator when it suited me to be!)<br />
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Once I had talked myself into going, it got a little easier to get myself ready and out the door, but I still had the slightly scary act of actually being there to get through. I chose somewhere that wasn't associated with anything or anyone from before and I think that is what enabled me to actually follow through with it all - even if I did spend the first hour sitting in a corner reading my kindle! (To be fair, there wasn't too much that I could have actually been doing in that first hour anyways, it was a slow burner this one!)<br />
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And though I wouldn't have said that was my best night ever, I did feel like it was a step. A positive movement in the right direction. And though there is no way to prove it, I think that has allowed me to hold on to the positives that I have had opportunity to experience in the days since then too.<br />
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One of my big issues lately has been finding the highs and being able to hold on to them. I felt like I was trapped in a bubble which would protect me from the lows, but also kept me in a perpetual state of "Meh" preventing the highs as well.<br />
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Tonight, I not only thoroughly enjoyed myself, but I also have managed to carry that feeling out of the room I felt it in and into the rest of my evening.... so whether my little step has enabled this bigger, slightly unrelated one or not, things are feeling more positive. And at least for tonight, I can revel in the enjoyment I So have experienced. So revel I will!Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-21478184316411620032011-10-16T19:58:00.000+01:002011-10-16T19:58:05.432+01:00Life as a TouristI mentioned before in one of my first posts (the one about the <a href="http://www.ruminationsofacheshirecat.com/2011/08/london-riots.html">London Riots</a>) that I felt there was a difference between how London was viewed by those who live here and those who don't - primarily people in North America. And though that was based mostly on media representation of specific negative happenings, I have spent time recently living the divide between Londoner and Foreigner and again, the difference in perceptions has come to mind, this time in a more positive way, making me think about what is "English" to the rest of the world and what is it that makes a city iconic.<br />
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Essentially, I had the good fortune to have some family in town for just over a week. Some had been here before and some had not. This meant that they were determined to get all of the "London experience" in the time they had available and packed the trip full of sightseeing, walking tours, amazing restaurants, and landmarks. As their "native indian guide" it was my duty to make sure that - at least whilst I was around - they were getting the most of their time here. (They were quite sufficient without me there too... so thankfully they drove a lot of the planing and I simply facilitated! And sometimes they didn't need me at all!) But strangely, as soon as someone starts quizzing me on what to do here, the Londoner in me starts to panic. <br />
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I have lived here for 9 years. Before I lived here, I came over a number of times as a tourist. You would Think that I have tonnes of things that I can suggest for people to do.... but I don't! My mind goes blank when I try to think about what to suggest to someone to do or see. So much of my london life is spent trying to bypass crowds, get where I am trying to go, avoid traffic, and find the routes to and from places that have the fewest tourists, that I have been able to numb myself to at least some of the things that make London such a unique place to be. And whilst many of the things which are considered stereotypically London are frowned upon or minimised by the people who actually live here for being "tourist traps," they do actually have a reason behind their reputations and deserve more credit from those of us that see them every day.<br />
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This is not to say that I don't appreciate the city I live in. Aspects of it constantly amaze me and bring me joy. But I was surprised by how many things I haven't done (or haven't done in a really really really long time) which actually have given me a better understanding of the city. <br />
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As someone that wasn't raised in this country, I do feel as though there are elements of its history that I am lacking - and yet if there is one thing a tourist knows how to find, it is history! Being from a commonwealth country has helped me with the general framework of things (as has my interest in many literary things British) but I was actually really interested to see what information would be found, especially in the few guided walks that I was lucky enough to join in on.<br />
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For me, history is not the dates and names of times gone by though... it is the stories, the anecdotes, the idiosyncrasies, and the absolute ridiculous. (Which may be why I was never really a fan of history at school!) From both ages gone and those still very remembered, Britain, and London specifically, is swimming in such history. <br />
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On the two tours I went on (my family went on a few more than that) we had one amazing tour guide that fulfilled all my hopes about the personifying history and making it memorable and one that, for whatever reason, just didn't work for me. But I was struck with how much can be found right under our noses every day, if we only know where to look.<br />
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We also toured Westminster Abbey (at extortionate cost!), went to the Globe (and were toasted in unexpected sun whilst being delighted by the play), saw Churchill's War Rooms (and his attempt to make a fashion trend out of a onesie), and viewed a number of other less formulated sights. And the sheer willingness from my family to imbibe as much of London as possible was contagious! This is what we Londoners have lost: this joy, this quest for knowledge about the specific world we are living in, and the appreciation for the wonders that surround us.<br />
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So whilst I believe that the view of London that is often portrayed in the media can be tinged with excess negativity, I think that it is with the eyes of the tourist that we should all strive to see more of our city. So open those eyes Londoners - there are few cities out there that can compare to ours!Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-78874846606131360612011-09-14T11:48:00.000+01:002011-09-14T11:48:24.870+01:00The Things That Get You GoingIt is amazing how easily your day can go from feeling blah, or mundane, or just another slog, to actually feeling as though you have something exciting to look forward to and work towards. When those individual days start to add up... well, things actually start to look up and you begin to create positives for the future. For whatever reason, after a lengthy spell without days like this, I have started having a few. There are projects that are being revived, new challenges, and most of all... a sense of purpose.<br />
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The little voice at the back of my head is still telling me to be cautious with my new-found optimism, but that sticky tick of hope has burrowed in a little.<br />
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I am still constantly expecting the large boot of fate to come crush my expectations under it's steel-toed boot heel, and every time the sky darkens, I wince and look up. Strangely though, it isn't keeping me in hiding. (Have you had enough of my oddly combined metaphors yet?)<br />
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This month has brought one multi-faceted new project, which promises both exciting challenges and opportunities to try my hand at something I always thought I might be good at. One older project that has been resurrected and now has faint but stable life signs that promise to get stronger than I had ever quite dreamed them to be. The possibility of another project, an ongoing thing which is trying to expand, and (less excitingly, but more essential for the necessities of life) a possible partial income source.<br />
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It has been a long time since I have had this much on even part of my multi-sectioned cafeteria plate and I had forgotten how good it feels.<br />
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Now to just make sure that it all happens... and to get over this cold!Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-49577832121069458432011-09-12T10:36:00.002+01:002011-09-12T10:36:00.189+01:00I'm in Love!...With my Kindle.<br />
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It has been a long time since I have been quite as excited as I was the night I opened the box of my new toy. In the last 5 days I have read 2 books and started a third, kept myself up till 2am reading, and generally loved that I now have one tiny thing that can keep me amused no matter how long I have to wait for the next train!<br />
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I must admit, I am not a new convert to reading - it has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I was a voracious reader growing up! And I will never give up on having a living, breathing, character I love sitting on my bookshelves. My favourites will undoubtedly still be purchased in real physical paper versions so that I can plainly see where my heart lies.<br />
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But I am well and truly hooked - as much as you can be in 5 days - on this lovely little machine. That may be the geek in me coming out. It could be the girl that spent hours in the school library who is revelling in the ease and simplicity of following every bookish whim. But a part of it is definitely the rediscovery of the enjoyment of reading.<br />
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I don't think the Kindle replaces books, which was one of my initial worries about things of its ilk, I think it opens the doors for people to read - and anything that does that is a good thing in my books. (Ouch... what a pun.) And I hope, that it is opening those doors to regular readers and not-so-regular readers alike. I certainly have started seeing them everywhere I go now!Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-519123636824098531.post-89124063304100171412011-09-10T21:34:00.000+01:002011-09-10T21:34:44.964+01:00A Life TransplantedA conversation with a friend recently caused me to think a lot about the way my life has changed - the way I have changed - since I moved to the UK 9 years ago. I realised that it is so easy to look at your life from within and struggle to see the achievements or the growth, to frustrate yourself with feeling stagnant, or simply ignore the processes you have gone through and how different the person you have become may be from the person you once were. I myself was very guilty of that until called on to advise a friend about the next step in her life.<br />
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See, she had moved away from friends, family and the life that she knew - much the way I did 9 years ago - but went back. After getting there... she was conflicted. Didn't know where she actually wanted her life to be. Missed here, missed what she had left there but couldn't re-live, and basically felt a little lost.<br />
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Feeling lost is something I feel I have had a bit of practice at over the last few years, and when she asked me for my experiences and opinions, all I could do was think back on my own life, give MY experiences, and encourage her to figure out what it was that she really wanted for herself. In doing that, however, I was shocked at what I saw when I looked at my progress.<br />
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Though I had never really felt that I had achieved much of significance - my accomplishments were all well and good, but nothing spectacular (in my estimation) and frankly, should have been so much more - looking back at my journey made me realise a few things.<br />
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I HAVE changed. Out of necessity. And I think, at least partly, positively.<br />
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Because of this experience, I have learned that I am an individual in my own right. Not tied to other people as "someone's friend", or "someone's daughter", or even "that girl that is good at that thing"... I have had to spend a lot of time struggling with myself and who I really am. I honestly don't think I would have done that if I had stayed at home and never really been forced to question it. It hasn't been easy. It hasn't all been nice. I am still struggling with a lot of it, to be honest! And though I don't have all the answers, I do like that I have had to think about it. About what Really matters to me and how to make sure that I can hold on to those things in my life.<br />
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That said.... at no point in all this for me, was I completely certain about the choices I was making. Each and every one of them seemed like a big, scary, terrifying step which could very easily backfire on me and crush the hopes that I had in them... and in some cases, it did. But you keep going, because you have to, and somehow things develop. Somehow you go on. <br />
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One of my biggest struggles initially was to do with the people I had left behind. I had friends and family that were so much a part of my life that I never thought I would be able to live without them being a day to day part of it. That was one of the hardest things for me to come to terms with when I was over here at first... and frankly, I didn't cope with it all that well.<br />
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I held on to home so hard for the first year or so that I don't think I really Was here. But slowly and surely, it became painfully obvious to me that every time I went back, things just weren't the same. The people weren't there waiting for me to pick up the life I was holding onto so hard... I mean they were there, but their lives had been going on whilst I was away and I wasn't as much a part of them in the same way. And yes, I had times that I felt terribly terribly alone regardless of where I was.... thinking that the other place would be so much better if I could only be there at that point.<br />
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When I finally started living my life more for where I was and what I was experiencing, some strange things started to happen. The friendships that weren't really all that important started to fade a little and lost their appeal, and the ones that were the strongest, continued on, in a very similar way to before I left.... Obviously, I wasn't seeing people constantly or attached at the hip to anyone anymore... but the friendships that really mattered were still there, one way or another. I had to make an effort to make sure that I still included them in the bits of my life that I could.... trying to keep people informed of what was going on in the mundane parts of my life, seeing them (and usually picking up much where we left off) whenever I was able to, making skype dates or phone dates so that I could hear important news or just what was happening in their lives..... and I needed to accept that as we get older, things change. But even scattered around the globe, friendships are more than possible. (My multiple bridesmaid's duties all around the world prove that - just once it might be nice to know what it is like to be in the same country as the bride leading up to the wedding!)<br />
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sundays.... and I wouldn't give them up for anything.<br />
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On the other side of things, I do regret missing out on some of the most important parts of my little brother and sister's lives. I don't think I have the relationship with them that I would like to have and it hurts to know that.... I do what I can to make sure that I am still a part of their lives, but I know I would have liked to have been able to be there for them a lot more - and I would probably understand them a lot better - if I had been there for them physically too. <br />
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Being this far away from my family in general, has made me really aware of valuing the time with them when I have it and making sure I create time to keep that link strong. It isn't easy, and it isn't ideal, but it is something that we have made work and which you can make the most of - especially in this day and age. Your family will ALWAYS be your family. Your good friends, if they are really your good friends will ALWAYS be your good friends (albeit in a different fashion sometimes). What I came to realise, however, is that You, need to live YOUR life... not theirs. <br />
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Over all, I have become stronger. I am much more aware of myself and my feelings. I don't do everything people of expect of me, just because they expect it.... which is not to say I try to let people down, just that I don't feel I have to subjugate myself in order to make everyone else happy. And though the path is still far from smooth, I know that the person I have become is one that has the ability to take chances that are important to her, hold on to the dreams that keep her going, and hopefully someday, will put the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of her life together enough to see - and like - the bigger picture.Cheshire Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18272649163751643981noreply@blogger.com1