It Will Be Sunny One Day

It Will Be Sunny One Day

A friend sent me this link yesterday, detailing a letter Stephen Fry sent to a fan following her plea for help with her depression

“I had no idea who to turn to. But I really needed someone to turn to and to ease the pain. So I wrote to Stephen Fry because he is my hero, and he has been through this himself. And low and behold, he replied to my letter, and I will love him eternally for this.”

Wrote Crystal Nunn, the letter’s recipient.

Even though I cried reading it, I know the words will stay with me. It’s a beautifully written letter, as one would expect from Stephen Fry. So honest too, and the fact he replied to someone in need speaks volumes.

There are other people going through mental health issues and help out there…If you are still here then it isn’t too late. Don’t give up on yourself. I’m not going to.

 

Not Waving But Drowning

I’ve always identified a little with this poem. Never more than over the last few days though.

I’ll say to all my adversaries right now: Leave me alone for a bit. Go find someone else to hold in contempt. Let me get strong enough to deal with you again…Then if you still find you want to go a round of fucks over it, by all means come back and I’ll meet the challenge. This time however, have the courage to do it to my face. Not many of you had the balls before.

But just for now, I’ll admit defeat. I’m exhausted. I literally ache in my bones, heart and head.

Don’t get too complacent though. I will recover from this. The question is, will you?

Blondes have more fun?

…My take on that age old cliche!

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Earlier on today, I was posed with a rather tricky question by a friend.

The lady in question is glamorous, likes to look good at all times and more mature than myself in years. She has recently invested in some rather expensive blonde hair extensions, spent time perfecting self-tanning techniques and keeps fit by attending pole fitness classes. She seemed happier since making the change, as if lightening her hair had lightened her outlook. She hadn’t been in a relationship for a while, but was waiting for her luck to change. She said that suddenly men were paying her more attention and asking her on dates. I was pleased to see her confidence boosted and to hear she was feeling good.

As we sat there being very British and having a cup of tea, she suddenly asked

“Do you prefer me blonde or dark?”

I considered the question for a few moments and answered

“I prefer to see you happy”

After all, isn’t that what we all want for our friends? For them to enjoy life in whatever way they please? Partnered, single, gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered…As long as they are being true to themselves and not hurting others with their choices, in my opinion they are living the right way.

“That’s not what I asked you, do you prefer me blonde or dark?”

Came her reply, thinking I was fudging the issue.

Now, I’m uncomfortable with naming any one look as ideal. I will confess that long blonde hair and an all over tan do not feature anywhere on my list of Must Haves.

I repeated along the same lines…

“At the moment, you seem to be more positive than I’ve seen you in ages. You’re clearly enjoying life, if your new hairstyle is the reason for this then I love it!”

She seemed pleased with my reply and our conversation quickly turned back to her most recent date. Though in my head, I was still thinking over what makes someone attractive. At the moment, I feel pretty good about myself. I’m not the slimmest I have ever been, but I’m certainly not the largest either. The strange thing is, now I’m actually taking positive steps towards improvement it matters less. I think beauty starts with confidence…An idea that has been with me for well over a decade.  Think I really started to appreciate what it meant on starting dance lessons. I became aware of the effect moving my body gracefully had, how good it felt to push myself and the sense of achievement I got from learning something new.

I shouldn’t imagine my appearance is everyone’s vision of The Fairest Of Them All: Am currently rocking black hair with a bright red fringe, wearing less than in previous summers (mainly for practical reasons…It’s bloody boiling out there!) and loving life to boot. I’m working out to feel and look better, hoping to be more toned as a result but still to look feminine and curvaceous. I’m more interested in creating a discernible curve between my bust and my hips than obtaining a six pack…Though have to confess I love the muscle tone starting to show in my legs!

It doesn’t mean that I’m right and my friends striving for perfection are wrong…Or vice versa. I’m just striving to be the best I’ve looked and felt. I believe that any transformation is possible…And that as long as the person making that change still wants to be themselves, it’s healthy to try hard.

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The tactful opinions and good advice I had to offer friends deteriorated somewhat as the day went on. Another friend was complaining that while he is superb at helping females shop for flattering outfits, the same keen eye doesn’t extend to shopping for himself.

My helpful response to this was

“So go transvestite then…Ladies clothing will always be more exciting and fun to shop for than gents!”

Despite admitting to once having owned a manly black sarong, he didn’t really go a bundle on the idea.

Nonetheless, I do hope my certificate of commendation from the Tact, Diplomacy and Giving an All-Round Top Answer Society is in the post for my earlier efforts!

There’s never any excuse for deliberately hurting a friend’s feelings. It’s a tough enough world out there without mates having to tear each other to pieces. One day I’ll strike the tricky balance of feeling great and genuinely not caring what others think. I probably won’t blog for a while then, I’ll be busy bottling the formula and selling it for millions!

Hypocrisy and Misogyny: Welcome to Social Media 101

Hypocrisy and Misogyny: Welcome to Social Media 101

Welcome to Facebook…apparently a place for friends to connect, stay in touch and share photographs.

Provided your images don’t display more flesh than the prudish eyes of the powers that be are comfortable with. I’ve heard tales of Burlesque performers having their profile suspended (and even removed) for posting photographs of performances. Pastie-bedecked breasts being Stuff of Sodom, obviously!

“Boobies! Heavens above…We can’t allow grown adults the choice to display those! There’ll be anarchy! The world will fall to pieces around our ears!”

Don’t mind the odd pro-rape joke or misogynistic Meme tho, do they? Nobody noticed…Certainly nobody commented. If they did, nothing happened to stem the flow of bullshit.

That is, until advertisers started kicking up rough. Adverts for brands such as syrupy and patronising “Pro-women” Dove (Pro-profit, more like it!) began appearing on poetically titled pages like Drop Kicking Sluts in The Teeth…Annnnd suddenly there was uproar.

Right reaction, wrong reasons folks.

This shit needs addressing. It always did, but as usual we had to wait for large multi-nationals to fear losing profits. Dove are owned (surprise surprise) by Unilever

Go figure.

Will there ever be a time when common sense and self-respect become a catalyst for change? Watch this space, but you may want to refrain from holding your breath…

Individuality: A Dirty Word?

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A stroll down the road in the sunshine…Maybe magic, maybe mundane. Now and then a total revelation. I’m surprised how an unimportant detail of my walk down to a friend’s house yesterday has dominated my thoughts…And inspired my latest entry!

So there I was shamblin’ along, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my arms and generally feeling all was well in the world.  I suddenly spotted a group of young lads setting off in a car. My heart dipped a little…I grew up in a small town, often attracting negative attention due to how I dressed and was perceived. It never particularly bothered me – I could have changed the message I put out to the world but had no interest in doing so. However, if you encounter enough bullshit of that ilk you eventually develop a radar for it, which never entirely leaves you. Certain people and situations get your antennae twitching…the car full of little boys is a classic example. I’ve always found their bravery increases directly in proportion with the speed they’re travelling!

I walked by, head up and refusing eye contact as per rule one in the Superfreak Handbook! Suddenly a loud and primal noise somewhere between whooping and howling emitted from the vehicle. Now, gone are the days when I’d have marched over and confronted them over their asshattery.

It never got me anywhere but more angry, though possibly taught me some of my most tried and tested profanity!

I neatly gave them the finger and kept walking.

Suddenly this whiny little-boy voice cut over the music from my MP3 player

(Rumble by Link Wray, in case anyone wondered what I was listening to. If I was reading this written by someone else, I surely would! I have about 5 soundtracks from Quentin Tarrantino movies on my player at the moment…I find they cover pretty much every musical whim of mine!)

“What you telling us to fook off for? Fooking dirty bitch…look at ya!”

To begin with I was absolutely fucking livid. The child shouting at me looked barely old enough to know it was for anything other than pissing over high walls, alone what did or did not constitute dirty.

I’d put the little fecker over my knee, only he’d probably enjoy it!

When the hell did it become OK for children to randomly yell abuse  at adults in the street anyway? My feet wouldn’t have touched the ground if my parents had found out I’d so much as looked askance at an adult…And no, the fact that statement exposes me as an old bat hasn’t escaped my notice!

Following this, I was a bit perplexed…What had caused this juvenile missing link to pick me out as a creature of the night anyway?

I considered what I was wearing, though cursed myself for sinking to that level. I was in a punky zip thru black mini-dress, strappy black flats, hair in a bandana and red 50’s cat-eye shades. Hardly the stuff of strip clubs. Definitely nothing outlandish by my standards…Then again, if I ever feel the need to seek fashion advice from a teenage boy shouting from a car window, my life will surely be taking a downhill turn!

I wondered briefly about my walk…I have a natural wiggle to my hips and a tendency to strut. I am proud of the space I take up in the world and determined to enjoy my body while I am relatively young. I often listen to music when am out and about…With the side effect of making me shake my arse! I can think of far more offensive sights to witness on the street…

  • Mothers smacking and screaming at their children
  • Teenage “Gangstas” with their jeans escaping down to their knees and exposing their choice of underwear
  • Brassy women hellbent on telling the world of their “Babyfather’s” latest exploits under the pretext of having a conversation on the mobile.

All these make me feel faintly nauseated, but I keep my gob shut and walk on by nonetheless.

I even considered whether the half-sleeve adorning my right arm had offended the delicate little flower…My ink occasionally has a strange effect on people, prompting them to stop me in the park and ask how I’ll feel about it in 60 years time and the like. If I happen to get to 95, I would imagine I’ll feel like any other almost centenarian. Cantakerous, confused and cranky as hell! I earned the money which paid for my tattoos, they decorate MY skin and I love every one of them….And that is all any of these helpful social commentators need to know. They ought to stay heedful of the age old advice of keeping their cakehole firmly closed if they have nothing positive to say.

We still live in a society obsessed with fitting into a norm set by someone faceless and nameless. Many people haven’t got a clue what they think or believe so wait to be told. They are fearful of anyone who rejects their flock mentality.

I am definitely not Most People!

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I am in my mid 30s, single, very much my own boss and able to dress myself in what I damn well please! Is that what angered the little cherub? Should I not be allowed such freedom? Or does he feel denied it, so desperately trying to fit in with his army of clones?

Eventually I gave up on speculating and put it down to ignorant adults popping out ignorant children. Stupidity is unfortunate, but ignorance is unforgivable. Ignorance is having the option to learn but refusing to. The Chav mentality of being terminally thick and happy as pigs in shit.

Bodies, bare flesh, sex and sexuality are not dirty. Attitudes towards these are what taints them and makes them grubby. My generation did precious little to change that, it seems that neither will the new one. We’re still living in the Victorian Era…Scared shitless of enjoying anything seen as sinful, at it like rabbits behind closed doors. Our generation is as obsessed with judgement as the last one…And we are passing our intolerant attitudes on once again.

People constantly wail and gnash their teeth about the state of modern life. There are no manners these days, no sense of community, no willingness to help others. I’ve yet to witness any noteable attempt to tackle this and make a change though. Dischord and mistrust of those around us suits the culture we live in…Society encourages sneaky, nosy, snide behaviour. Curtains twitch. Tongues wag. All the while children witness and take notes. We all say we’re not going to become our parents, then do it anyway.

And let’s not forget the media, poised to fill in the gaps left after the seed has been planted. I refer you to a gem of an article seen on Return of Kings.

Return of Kings is a blog billed as being “For Masculine Men”…

I have my own description for it, and you may well come to similar conclusions after following the link!

Warning: May cause boiling of the blood!

http://www.returnofkings.com/12436/the-10-slut-commandments

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I suggest we drop the false morality and get busy taking care of our own business.

It takes more than one person to make a difference, it’s true. However, if enough people admitted they were sick and tired of these attitudes the tide would start to turn. I’d wager I’m not the only one…

I look forward to the day when people stop thinking in terms of the typical man/woman and start behaving like decent human beings.

Postcard From An Accidental Sun Worshipper

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Hot on the heels of the “Exercise Is Good For You” revelation comes “Sunshine Makes You Feel Good!”

Who knew?

The old chestnut “People feel better when the sun’s out”  began to make sense to me about a fortnight ago. I’ve lost a little weight, suddenly I didn’t feel like covering up head to toe every time I stepped outside. I started rockin’ dresses which I’d not even been able to zip up a few months before. Walking more, leaving the Em-shaped arse dent on the sofa and Going Outside. I shed the last inhibition on Saturday afternoon. Shorts in public! A no-brainer to most on a hot day…But something I haven’t done in the UK for around 20 years.

It made me realise how much confidence I’ve gained in a short space of time. Something that pleases me no end.

Don’t get me wrong…Daisy Duke has nothing to worry about!

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Nonetheless, people did not gasp in horror at the sight of my bare legs. They did not shield their offsprings’ innocent eyes. The sun didn’t beat a hasty retreat behind thunder clouds. The sky did not darken above, earth crack beneath me as the world ended. The day continued as it began, apart from the fact I was enjoying the sun. Worrying less what I looked like and better able to concentrate on how well I felt. As planned for weeks, I went for a swim at the local leisure centre. I took swimming lessons all through my childhood and used to go regularly, but it fell by the by as I hit double figures. Not only had I not forgotten how, but I became an instant kid the minute I climbed down the steps! Though I’m pleased to report I did manage to swim more than a few lengths in between pretending to be a mermaid! The contrast between the heat outside and the cool water was sublime. I wandered home refreshed and spent an hour lying outside, on the decking with my cat.

My Inner Goth was quietly despairing, writing poetry and wondering what went wrong. But it’ll do her good to take the backseat for a while…

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So my advice to you all is enjoy it while it’s here. I live in the UK, the sun is a national event as we see so little of it. It makes us all a bit crazy in the head.

Sometimes it’s good to get a little crazy!

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Albeit getting a little crazy with sunscreen on my skin and whilst wearing shades. With my habitual vampire tan, I’d fry and then turn to dust without.

And speaking of crazy, Monday is Good Mental Health day. Counselling at 11am, followed by the gym and then food shopping. Good Sane Fun. So I bid you all the kind of day you’d wish for yourself.

Peace Out, folks!