BLOG 202: Labels

“The average child laughs about 400 times per day, the average adult laughs only 15 times per day.  I swear that it's badly labelling things that killed the other 385 laughs” Paula Poundstone

When I was single I found that for me, the difficult part wasn't figuring out what to do with my time but rather it was making the commitment to do the things that I enjoyed outside of work. When you look at the list it was unsurprising that I had to galvanise myself into action or the weight of choice would overwhelm me and I’d easily fall back on the singletons old excuse of being too tired after work to do anything other than watch TV.

When I was single, pleasing myself was the name of the game. And yeah, some of my time was spent watching TV but my diversion list was plentiful and I could galvanise my butt of the sofa to indulge myself with my list. That meant that I’d be reading books, watching movies, riding my bike, swimming, choreographing dance routines, taking on art projects, going window shopping, practicing my photography, visiting friends, recreationally cooking, travelling (road trips, local, foreign, etc), trying new restaurants/bars/clubs, blagging tickets and attending any thing with a red carpet, getting spectacularly good at board games, going to museums, lectures, etc.  And that was just some of the things. And that’s what was so great about being single. I did exactly what I liked. Single means the only consideration is for one... singular. Single people go out when they like, come in when they like, travel when they like and have no one to consider but themselves.

I know what being single is. So does the dictionary:

sin·gle

[sing-guhl] Show IPA

adjective

1.

only one in number; one only; unique; sole

2.

of, pertaining to, or suitable for one person only

Now then... there is something else I know a lot about from personal experience and this has to be the biggest contrast to that frivolous self diverting single life.

I had to learn how to be congenial, non-defensive, non-intrusive, consistent, and generous with a male of the species. (Damn near killed me as it would be easier to sod the leading by example and just hand out discipline). I had to develop integrity in the way I lived my own life: genuinely valuing myself, accepting all of my various shades and priorities, and actively participate in my own life. It involved all kinds of uncomfortable crap like having to be real 24/7, admitting to my shortcomings and weaknesses, sharing the history of my formative years, revealing my personal struggles as well as my successes, and in general relating to this male as honestly as possible. (No where near as much fun as you think.... but if you are being a role model... then only way is to be honest and mature about your relationship with yourself.)  And then there’s the tricky bit, allowing yourself to be loved.

Recognise what that relationship is? Of course... it’s  my relationship with my son.

I know what being a parent is. So does the dictionary:

par·ent

[pair-uhnt, par-] Show IPA

noun

1.

a source, origin, or cause.

2.

a protector or guardian.

Parents (from Latin: parēns = parent) are the caretakers of the offspring in their own species.. Offspring can have one or more parents, involved in caretaking,  but they all must have two biological parents. Biological parents consist of the male who sired the child and the female who gave birth to the child. In all human societies, both parents are responsible for raising their young. However, people die, people become incapacitated, people become unstable, people become incompatible and people leave.  Without God-like powers few would be able to predict at the point of conception if any of these scenarios would/could/should happen to them before their offspring reach maturity.

So having established experience of the two states, I’d just like to take a little look at the grammatical rulings for both words

You will note that single is an adjective.

ad·jec·tive

[aj-ik-tiv] Show IPA

Grammar :

adjectives are primarily used to modify nouns by describing a particular quality of the word they are modifying

You will note that parent is a noun.

noun

[noun] Show IPA

Grammar:

nouns are often described as referring to persons, places, things, or states

And the reason for this (should it not already be as clear as crystal to you) is that the word single and the word parent do NOT function as a description of anyone with a child but lacking the support of a partner.

Doing anything else in this world as a LONE effort where normally there is a team is highly commended:

Lone circumnavigation of the world

Lone walk across continents/ ascent of Mountains

Lone discoveries of fundamental scientific principles

 Because these things are commendable it would be considered a slur to prefix them with the word single. To do so would be seen as a blatent attempt to pass over lightly or without due mention or consideration the highly commendable endurance involved in doing singlehanded what normally takes two – or more.

And yet we will allow it to be said of parenting alone. True, it is said by smug people who know nothing of what it is to raise a child without the support of the other parent. True they say it to make the parent who remained sound irresponsible. This is achieved by focusing on the singular adjective describing a carefree person who has no dependants, who can look at the long long list of personal pleasure and diversion and say... I ONLY HAVE ME TO PLEASE.

No sacrifice, No endurance, No hardship to overcome... just frivolous pleasure.

Which quite frankly is bollix! NO parent lives with only themselves to please. A parent has offspring to consider.

It takes two to make a baby. But quite often what was at the start isn't there at the finish... one of them dies, becomes incapacitated, turns incompatable or simply just leaves. It is self evident that should your parenting partner have exited for what ever reason and you find that you are left holding the baby, then you are parenting on your own. You are a LONE parent. 

And believe me.....There is NOTHING single about it.

That is all.

The JaxWorld Blog can be followed on Twitter- @JaxWorldBlog

If you enjoyed this blog and you want to contact Jax or find out more about the JaxWorld blog, pls log onto: http://thejaxworldblog.vpweb.co.uk/

Thanks for continuing to vote for JaxWorld as the Best Blog about Stuff and for ALL your support that has made this blog such a huge success

BLOG 201: Rainy Daze

“Rainy days like today are perfect for doing housework, but I managed to put on clothes, though only because a man was coming to service my boiler” My friend Nicky

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down – or at least that’s what Karen Carpenter once warbled about.  I don’t have a problem with rainy days myself. (Nor should anyone who lives in England -as 4 inches of rain per month is kind of the deal). I quite like rainy days. The pressure to go do something outside (in a country with hardly any outdoor infrastructure) is finally off and you are free to get to the crux of the English Dream...THE CASTLE. Yep... an Englishman’s home is his castle. Rainy days means that I can enjoy my house guilt free, I genuinely don’t mind the rain...Come on how did you think the moat gets filled!

Working from home midweek during dreary weather doesn’t mean that you can be bored. In fact dreary weather brings out the chatty side in my mates who are likewise employed.  Though it seems (because we’re English) we have to establish weather conditions locally and nationally before we can comment or report on any of life’s big questions.

It’s raining in Avon says Gary, It’s raining in Lincolnshire says Nicky, It’s raining in Kent says I. 

I’m not sure if any of us expected to look out our windows and observe the blistering heat of the Serengeti as we do know we live in Northern Europe. And yes, we know it is spring. And yes, we’ve know about April Showers. But it is raining in England - so this must be brought to the attention of each of us – despite the evidence rolling down our window panes.

To be fair though the national obsession with the weather is a bit heightened at the moment... although we in England usually have 927mm of rain annually, we've somehow managed to find ourselves in the grip of an official drought. I kid you not... we have hosepipe bans, no sprinklers on the lawn... the whole kit and caboodle... and yet, there I am on-line with Gazza and Nic and although it’s 130 plus miles west or east of here to either abode ...we are all three enjoying a downpour that would make Noah feel justified about blowing Emzara’s dowry on a shipbuilding kit. We felt it was only right to comment on the fact we are in three different locations watching torrential rain whilst still officially our nations reservoirs are parched.

However we are not ritualistic moaners Gazza, Nic and I...   we always like to look on the bright side if there is one. “Well” says Gary “This crappy weather does give us the perfect excuse not to leave the house and not feel guilty about it!” Nicky commented that the lack of clement weather means that staying ‘indoors’ means that at least you can get the housework done.  Which was when Gary served the kind of swerve for which he is rather renown for in our circle, by commenting that in such inclement weather it was barely even worth getting dressed “.. or is that just me?” he asked. In a heart beat Nicky was back with the quote I began this blog with. Basically, I was left with the rather graphic picture of Gazza in his Bristol home lounging in his mankini (or less) and Nicky only finding it appropriate to stop floating around her Lincolnshire home in her smalls (waving a feather duster at ornaments) because the boiler man cometh!

Now that got me thinking...It’s a strange facet of our class obsessed country that one must always be appropriately dressed for a tradesman. It was not too long ago when a tradesman would only have access to a home through a discreet rear entrance, as he would not be in possession of the right kind of hat and cane, and would be undoubtedly unattended by staff of any kind. (Those being the basic qualifications of any man who would be bold enough to ring at the front door.) A mere trademan certinly would not come into contact with the lady of house. (Nor indeed in those halycon days be at risk of seeing her in her undercrackers). These days, of course tradesmen are more likely to own the big house than the gentry of yesteryear - the tradesman has gone up in the world. For some reason that has never been made entirely clear to me, one must not be seen to be ‘on ones uppers’ when a tradesman calls. I’m not saying we all rush to the closet and pull on a Phase Eight lacy dress just to show him where the boiler is, but it would never be the done thing to open the door to a tradesman whilst still populating the great unwashed. (Let alone the great undressed).

Talking of the great undressed can someone explain to me the cultural anachronism that is the women in her smalls doing housework? The notion of a woman doing chores in her underwear stirred a tide of “whooohays!” through cyberspace... Nicky had to quickly take control of that little ripple! Just the suggestion of a woman doing chores while half-dressed fires up the most erotic of visual clichés. (Restricted to hoovering, dusting and ironing only as I am yet to see any popular image of a half naked fittie getting busy with the toilet duck and a pebbledashed bowl).

Anyhow, long and the short of it is, that I certainly gained a lot from my chats with my friends on a rainy mid week day.

We confirmed that it’s England, in springtime and the powers that be have declared a national state of drought.

We established that despite this fact it certainly WAS raining in Kent, in Lincolnshire and in Avon.. drought or no ruddy drought.

We pondered if it was to stop Sir Bob Geldolf gathering all his old show-business chums together and recording a little ditty “Do they know it’s Rainy Time” that the same powers that be that told us we are in drought are the ones who today notified us that 7 of the rivers in the drought area are likely to break their banks due to the heavy rain we’ve been experiencing.  (We have to be the only country to have simultaneous drought and flood warnings!)


I certainly enjoyed the fact these little contradictions didn’t go unnoticed by Gary, Nicky and I.

Rainy days and Mondays may well have always got Karen Carpenter down but to be honest, rainy days like today make me smile.

The bright side of living with a national obsession with weather is that it did give us three an opening to chat about having an excellent reason not to leave our houses and have a slightly more chilled out Wednesday. Nicky – being the more motivated of the three of us, did highlight that staying indoors does also give you the opportunity to get ahead with the house work. So what if the headlines read "Flood warnings hit drought Britain!"  We were all practicing the Chin up/bear down ...keep calm/carry on , sort of thing.

You couldn’t ask for a more British conversation...

Except...

Now every time it rains henceforth, unbidden, I just know I will get a mental image of Gazza lounging around his house in a state of undress... and Nicky busy as a busy thing in hers... getting dressed only when the boiler man cometh!

The JaxWorld Blog can be followed on Twitter- @JaxWorldBlog

If you enjoyed this blog and you want to contact Jax or find out more about the JaxWorld blog, pls log onto: http://thejaxworldblog.vpweb.co.uk/

Thanks for continuing to vote for JaxWorld as the Best Blog about Stuff and for ALL your support that has made this blog such a huge success

BLOG 200: Down at heel?

“Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world.” - Bette Middler

My spring mission was to sort out my shoes. I don’t think of myself as a shoe person... if I have a few spare quid it is more likely to turn into a top. Shoes spend an inordinate amount of time under things, and if I am gonna splash the cash... I’d rather it go where people can see.

That said, I am blessed with horse legs (thin, long, shapely) and it kind of makes sense to make the most of me pins. What I didn’t realise was exactly how much I was making of them. 87 pair of shoes, 14 pairs of boots, 8 pairs of pumps, 3 pairs of flip-flops and a pair of slippers.

O

M

G

If a non-shoe person can amass 112 items of footwear... what on earth would the score be for a shoe-lover?

I am pleased to say that I have been ruthless and have completed a cull in which only the 3 p’s survived. The pretty. The practical. The provoking. Eighty two pairs of footwear found their way to the charity shops of Sauff Eayst Lundin Overspill into Kent as a result and I am now able to conquer the world as Ms Middler proclaimed with my feet appropriately dressed.

It is a strange relationship, that one between a woman and her footwear.

I am not a shoe lover (I hand that crown to my big sister, whose shoes are the object of many a strangers lust filled conversation), but I have experience of the tantric uplift that can be attained by wearing just the right pair of hoofers.

I was once working for a terrible organisation. You know the sort... they believed their own publicity (which was strange because they wrote it, so they must have realised it was fiction hour?). I used to wake up super early every morning, and just lie in bed psyching myself up for another day of falsehoods and puff. But I never really squared my shoulders and felt ready to handle anything until I put my shoes on. It is a ritual in my house that no one puts on their shoes until they are about to open the front door. I’d potter about doing my morning routine of ablutions, clothing and breakfast... each stage getting me closer to stepping out into the world. But I never felt battle ready until I strapped myself into my Mary-Janes.

Once in my heels a quite literal transformation of my body took place. The pottering stopped and I could strut. A simple pair of calfskin shoes with an adjustable buckle strap across vamp sitting on a 3 ¾ inch heel, and my posture improved and I changed into someone who was assertive, in control and above all confident. There was very little I couldn’t face head on with my Mary-Janes on my feet.

The terrible organisation had to be toed to the kerb but... fret not... even with my recent brutal shoe cull... the Mary-Janes survived.

In fact these shoes, along with a select band of empowering footwear not only survived being packaged off to the Sally Army, they got a place on a particular shoe rack. This is the rack for my most treasured pairs – not necessarily the most expensive or the most pretty, but the ones with which the most positive associations are connected.

Now that does sound a little mad... doesn’t it?

Talking off mad, I was interviewing a clinical psychologist about physiology and psychological conditioning. Not much to do with shoes one would think, but she randomly asked me about my wearing heels. I pointed out that I find them more comfortable than flats - to which she said that I was mistaken. Apparently (according to her) the wearing of heels takes skill, confidence and even physical endurance, so as a consequence changes the way a woman perceives herself, thus the act of wearing heels positively effects a woman’s mood and alters her perception of comfort. She was convinced I was actually in great physical discomfort.

Despite my assurances that my feet were fine, she was having none of it. She also claimed I was in complete denial about my entire relationship with shoes. She claimed the logical centre of my brain knew it would be immature, vain, silly and indulgent to admit to an emotional relationship with my footwear. She claimed I was a closet shoe-lover, she also added that I was so advanced with my positive associations with what I shod my feet with that I could for up to eight hours a day alter my body’s perception of discomfort or even pain.

She may have had a point as first thing I do when I get back home is get the damn things off my feet (as the last few yards to my house always feel like an endurance test and am dead below the ankle after an 8 hr day!).

But hey ho... I like a heel. They empower me. And if after a long ol’ day I wanna kick them off and pad about my own place in bare feet... who can blame me.

Mind you, I was working on a corporate blog about what female movie lovers find most desirable – basically what elicits the greatest longing – lust if you will.

Well, in at number four was Brad Pitt. (Not an object of lust for me... that fling he had with Sinitta back in the 80’s left me cold, but I get it, not bad at all for a 48yr old), residing at number three was The Clooney (Okay I’m female... we ALL fancy 1961’s most divine offering) and at number one was Matthew McConaughy (Not sure why this Paul Newman lookalikey got the number one spot but yeah... desirable I guess). It was all (Mr McConaughy aside) pretty predictable until I looked closely at what came in at number two. Riding high at Number Two with THIRTY PER CENT MORE votes than either Brad or George... were shoes.

As I trawled through the data, the reasons given were much the same as the reasons given for the movie stars the women had picked: “They make me feel good”

And that’s the thing.

Desiring a movie star is not charged with the same pressures and body image anxiety of desiring a man within your social circle. Desiring Brad or George or (apparently) Matthew actually deflects that kind of pressure. In lusting for a movie star all women are equal.

It’s the same with shoes... they deflect the pressure that is associated with other types of clothing/accessory purchasing. With shoes: if you are a size 5 then you're are a size 5... and no one is gonna expect you to reduce to a smaller size. In buying shoes all women are equal.

Just like a movie star elicits lust and longing, walking past a closed store and seeing a perfect pair of shoes in the window elicits much the same feeling.

We can all recall the scene in 'Sex in The City' when Sarah Jessica Parker's character comes to a grinding halt before a closed shop window. Through the window she sees the latest shoes and strokes the window longingly and purrs:

“Hell...oo Lover”

But there the similarity ends....the only bar to getting jiggy with shoes are store opening hours. Unlike a movie star – you can take a pair of shoes home. They can REALLY be yours.

I guess if that clinical psychologist bird was here now, she would be fast at pointing out that this appears to be something I personally have done 112 times over a recent period!

I do wonder what she’d make of my cull though? Eighty two to charity and twenty nine shoes, boots,flip-flops and pumps (and one pair of slippers) remaining. The pretty, The practical and The provoking only.

I suppose she’d say I kept the Brad, the George and the Matthew of the shoe world... If only I would admit it!

The JaxWorld Blog can be followed on Twitter- @JaxWorldBlog

If you enjoyed this blog and you want to contact Jax or find out more about the JaxWorld blog, pls log onto: http://thejaxworldblog.vpweb.co.uk/

Thanks for continuing to vote for JaxWorld as the Best Blog about Stuff and for ALL your support that has made this blog such a huge success

Blog 199: Lionising the turtle

“Each one of us is on a private adventure in this life. Cut those that hinder and replace with ones who help.” James Cee

You may have noticed that there has been no JaxWorld for a trio of weeks recently. It seems the subject matter of my last blog ruffled some feathers and a tactical withdrawal had to be arranged as cyberspace turned into a warzone. It’s all been a little high drama.

I’ve had to be a turtle and withdraw inside the shell and pray the hard bone plates will bounce all oncoming fire. It seems that the bombing has stopped - heads been out of the shell for a couple of days with no ill effect – so it’s back to business as usual at JaxWorld.

Indignant. A great word. Often misused. But what a great word. The correct meaning is: Feeling or showing annoyance at actions that are unjust or unworthy.

And with the spirit of the correct meaning of indignant... that was kind of where the JaxWorld turtle was at. Indignant. However, it’s an easy slide from there to self-pity and I so don’t do the why-me syndrome... pity-parties have never struck me as a useful employment. Instead I withdraw inside the shell and take care of my business while those on the offensive do their worst outside, and when they’re spent (petty-vengeance is a small fund... it ALWAYS runs out quickly) I come back out of the shell more organised than ever and it is onwards and upwards. But yeah... a little reside of indignant is on me... but hey ho! Dem’s the brakes and it’s good to know my writing gets to people (even if that was not quite the reaction I anticipated when I hit the keyboard!)

One of the curious things about being a published author is that readers are ever present...they even write to you. No this has made for pretty good reading inside the shell. You can always find a letter or two that match your mood, but recently I’ve had an awful lot of letters about cutting off people who hurt you. I guess because my central character in my novel does just that to survive - my readers feel I must perceive the significance of the situation; as I explain it in the book. I suppose they feel it makes sense to contact me.

(To be honest though it is not something I personally have EVER been moved to do - I do read a lot of novels and have never been possessed with the desire to write to any of the authors. Becoming an author for me was not really because I had something to say and wanted to get it out into the world. It was mainly because I could create a world and populate it with people of my own device. But it is fiction. It is not a real world. Imagination is a wonderful thing we all have. For me, as I am always hypothesising, writing down what I imagine is better than letting my ideas get muddled. I write to stay focused. However transferring your imagination to paper and then to print; it becomes alive. So when you’ve do something like that, you’ve brought others into that world... so I suppose writing to an author that entertained or struck a cord is natural for some of those ‘others’.)

However... back to the letters:

Given the time I’ve had recently, I’ve been thinking about my next move now that the guerrilla warfare has passed. Okay, I’ve been at the sticky end of actions that were unjust and quite frankly annoying (the issues were all in the head of the guerrillas) so what do I do now? My gut instinct is always to fight the battles worth fighting but never get sucked into the fights that you haven’t picked. So I turtle during those conflicts, then when the aggressor is spent...I carry on much as before (but maybe elsewhere).

I know that way of living isn’t always advocated in today’s world. Power and control gained by fighting seems be lionised in our culture: Currently there are 18 global conflicts that we (UK) are in and we haven’t picked one of those fights. But it strikes me that turtles live longer lives than lions and I prefer longevity to ferocity any day.

But then I opened a letter forwarded from my publisher and it read;

Hello

I’ve just finished That River In Egypt and realised that like Martina this is a dilemma I've had for some time now. Cutting ties with people is something that I've been thinking about for quite some time. They say it is like cutting out cancer and that there are some folk "you just don't need" because they bring "drama to your life." But even if cutting those folk out of your life may avoid "drama," and would make yourself happier, I'm not quite sure it's a good thing.

I mean, it be making *yourself* happier. Like, shouldn't we think of other folk before ourselves (or at least I try to)? And, with that being said, I just feel like giving up on folk is like, condemning them, I guess. I mean, I believe everyone has good in them, and cutting ties with them is like, I don't know how to say it...it's like giving up on them. In the book Martina doesn’t stay and work to make peace in any of the relationships – is this something you advocate?

Cutting ties with folk just seems so...senseless. I think it's unavoidable that sometimes people will clash. But are you saying they shouldn't be friends because they're different. I understand people who drift apart, but when you cut ties with people, isn't it a little irrational, a little spiteful? I mean people are just people, they can’t be like a disease you just cut out to survive?

I feel like I'm rambling on now, but the book got me I suppose.
Urgh...
Thoughts?

Thanks so much.

Andy

Ermmm.... see what I mean? One part of me wants to say ‘Hey Fella, I just made up a story, I’m not advocating anything one way or other’... and another bit says ‘ermmm interesting point of view there... lets debate...’.

So (this is what happens when you spend three weeks in your shell!).... I’m departing from the norm and going with option 2. So here goes...

Dear Andy

I get it that all people have good in them. I get it that no one thinks that they are the bad guy because of this. But you have to self edit with your life. You cannot allow someone to keep hurting you just because they are nice in other ways (and to other people).

I find it interesting that Cancer... that big scary death nell is actually perpetual life. Cancer is when cells forget to die. Normal cells multiply when the body needs them, and die when the body doesn't need them. Cancerous cells just keep on... and on...when they are not needed anymore... when all they do is hurt you.

Cutting ties? Yeah, I guess I think like cancer if you allow something that is doing you no good to continue it will consume you. I think like cancer, for your own survival you should cut it out.

Take for instance my recent trio of weeks.

Some people who are real nice in other ways (and to other people) were hell bent on destroying me. Nothing I could say. Nothing I could do. It is what it is.

So I withdrew.

Because it would only get worse. (In the words of one witness “When/How did it all get so nasty”... and at that stage it hadn’t even really got started yet). I stuck it through the ‘deconstruct my character’ phase, and did my best to overturn the unjust, untrue and unfair things said. I stuck it through the ‘paint me as a hindrance that puts that individuals at a disadvantage” phase and again tried to redress the balance by showing my worth. But I withdrew when the ‘make out that continued exposure to me will result in adverse or unwelcome circumstances for sure” phase. Because as the witness said it had all got so nasty... and I knew the perpetrators had not even got started yet. The ‘perps’ were real nice in other ways (and to other people), but they were hell bent on bring me down.

It was time to cut out the cancer.

Now there is a school of thought that says cutting things out is a surgery that is invasive and you can manage a cancer with alternatives to cutting it out: Choices of quality air, water, organic food, even juicing and coffee enemas are all major alterative considerations in reversing a cancer. But refusing to cut out folk that make you indignant means that you are living with the perpetual fear, stress, anxiety, and anger they generate in you. The effects of this on the immune system are real. The more the fear, the stress, the anxiety and the anger gets to you... the more immune system is destroyed. It has been proven that this promotes an increase of cancerous cells. Likewise the more you live with acts that make you indignant.. the more your immunity is destroyed...the more acts that will follow. It makes sense to me to cut out the cancer.

So no, I do not think cutting things/people out of your life is cowardice.

And no ... I didn’t write Martina as being irrational or spiteful.... I wrote her as someone who survives.

Thanks for taking the time to write to me.

Jax

So... there we go... turtle is back ... out her shell and wandering down the beach of life. Being a turtle in life isn’t so bad... by only fighting when necessary and by withdrawing from stuff that is never going to do you good in the long-term...you get to outlive just about all comers.

The turtle is STILL HERE, and the lion is all spent... and the turtle is STILL DOING what the turtle was doing before the lion roared.

Because you see...

Victory belongs only to those who are alive to claim it.

The JaxWorld Blog can be followed on Twitter- @JaxWorldBlog

If you enjoyed this blog and you want to contact Jax or find out more about the JaxWorld blog, pls log onto: http://thejaxworldblog.vpweb.co.uk/

Thanks for continuing to vote for JaxWorld as the Best Blog about Stuff and for ALL your support that has made this blog such a huge success