Be the person not the job

Today’s little thoughts as I was driving back from a riding lesson was all about labels. How we and others see ourselves. Very often the first thing that people ask is or try to find out if they’re stalking us on social media or checking out our profile on a dating site is “what do you do for a living?”. Fair question, it’s always interesting to find that out, but does finding out change that persons perception of you? I think it does.

When I say what I do normally people look confused so I broaden it to I.T. Which of course has other connotations at that point, people think I can of course fix their computer, their wireless router and anything else that involves wiring. Most of the time I can but that’s not what I do. The other image is of course the dismal one of the guy on the Helpdesk, headset on, listening to people’s woes over Outlook, Word, internet connectivity or something like that. And that perception that I fix stuff is yet again there. I guess actually my job is more about designing my bits right so the help desk guy gets as little hassle as possible…

If I had told you I was a refuse collector would you have perceived me differently? I suspect yes, but why? Well that’s because society still classes us by the jobs that we do and not the people we are. Lawyers, doctors, priests, the upstanding citizens of our so called human ecology can be as immoral as the next guy, in fact can be worse. The immunity such a profession can give means that some feel they can manipulate the situation to fit their favoured outcome, and as a society we let them because that’s what we do.

The call centre worker, well I’ve been there before, being shouted at, then looking after or training the poor guys being shouted at, probably demonstrate some of the most powerful problem solving skills and quick thinking in order to resolve the being shouted at situation. It is those on the front line, the anonymous voice who get abused the most and yet they have no power to manipulate the world as the guy in the grey suit with the letters after his name does.

But here’s the thing. Every single profession I’ve mentioned above involves people with likes and dislikes and hopes and dreams. They are merely acting in the paid time that they are held captive by the employer to do what they do. And yet still it defines our perception of the person.

I spend a lot of time playing down my intellect to people when they discover the work that I do if they don’t quite get it. I often feel embarrassed like I’ve been found out. The “Oh so you must be pretty clever then” is almost an accusation of being stealthy in my approach to appear as a human when I clearly am not.

But my life is so much more than the job that I do, and each time my job role has changed I remain the same person, I just learn a little more. Sometimes I’m a mom, sometimes I’m a zookeeper, sometimes I’m a wonderer, a biker, a horse rider, a lazy bitch watching Netflix in bed, at every single point I’m not being clever, I’m simply being me.

Some people certainly live and breath the work that they do. They just don’t stop and whilst it’s admirable it makes them boring to me. Yes the passion is great when someone loves what they do, but you can be too much of a good thing at which point you become that and nothing else.

So next time I see the guy emptying the bins, or the lady at the check out, or speak to the advisor for my insurance, my gas bill or buy things from a shop I’ll try to see the person behind the role and wonder what else lies behind the uniform or the well trained voice. When we remember that everyone else is a human too our prejudices of the unknown melt away. The lady in the burka often persecuted in today’s society is just a woman who has made a decision to demonstrate her faith, the guy in the overalls is fixing or building the things that we need for our everyday lives and so on, without the mix of people in our world we would all be clones. I am lucky to live in a country where choice is allowed, where freedom of speech is encouraged, but it’s sad to be lucky, that’s the way it should be regardless of our location.

I don’t fight for feminism because it’s now a dirty word, sullied by the extremist views of the bra burners, the man haters and the ones who accuse and abuse the rules to make the results in their favour. We often forget that our animalistic biological roles are separate to the intellectual roles that we play in the world. As a mother I try to instil the values that I see as important into my daughter, as a female being dated or in a relationship I am a woman, the potential child bearer, the yin that balances out the yang. But it doesn’t mean that I must always be that role in everything I do. At the gym I lift heavy whenever I can, in my job I out intellect the intellectuals in the chess like mind games of design and solution, but it’s all being lead by the person inside.

Sometimes that person inside is just a small child as she tries to make sense of the world around her with the hope that no one can see her breaking inside as she bluffs her way through trying to hold it together. Sometimes that person is the oldest, wisest witch with the forces of nature behind her and intuition leading her when she feels her strongest. There’s always a balance to be had in the child like wonder and the wise witch who knows the rules of the universe, and when the balance is equal she is at her happiest. She can enjoy the experience with her eyes open wide but interpret it with the wiseness of the child that was always considered to be old for her years.

In my belief we are purely energy driving the machine of the biology we’re born into. When the biology is old our energy is transferred to a new machine to start again and experience some more. The soul which is mine is an old one, the energy is fresh but the experience is vast. There are irrational fears built from experiences before this time that cannot be explained by events of the current phase of life into which I’ve been born. It makes me patient most of the time, but frustrated at behaviour of the world as a whole when I see people are wrongly perceived, persecuted generation after generation. It means that I don’t fear death all that much, but the pain of the process in which it inevitably happens.

So be the person inside, drop the job role, the perception of the way you should act and be the person you are, you’ll be perceived as more genuine. Don’t worry about validation from the people around you, validate yourself and have confidence that when you are being who you are it really doesn’t matter what you do to earn your bread.


Acting your shoe size

You spend your life being told “Act your age not your shoe size” and I’m here to tell you to stop it! Stop listening to that! Act your damn shoe size and enjoy the hell out of life!

I’m not far off 40 and I know I don’t look it. Some of that’s down to good genetics, looking after my body, brushing my teeth every day, everything you are told to do. I don’t drink much, I eat pretty well and this all helps. But the biggest thing is attitude. Don’t you hate it when people tell you “oh my god I’m too old to do that” especially when they’re younger than you. That for me is instantly ageing. It’s that “I’ve given up”, “I may as well put on my slippers and smoke a pipe” kind of comment, and I hate that people do that to themselves.

I often forget my age, I’m shocked when I recount how many years have gone by, but then I remember it really is just a number, the amount of turns you got to go around the sun. Some people get lots, some people get less, I intend to get as many as possible. Why can’t I reach 150? Imagine the fun you can have in 150 years?

I don’t care what my numerical age is, I care about my perceived age and it takes the pressure off. We get taught to act our age early on, that pressure from child development professionals telling parents when their child should walk, talk, smile, sit, stand, and I get that, I do, they do it to check a child has no problems, to protect the child as best they can. But, and for me this is a big one, it adds pressure. My baby isn’t sleeping, my baby isn’t smiling and all the others are, my child can’t count yet, my child isn’t able to tie their shoe laces and so on and so forth, when actually they’re just doing it in their own time, there’s nothing wrong. But it leads to panic that instills in the child at an early age they have to achieve in order to be happy.

Now achieving things is good, yes, when it’s what you want to achieve. Being pushed to achieve what you really don’t want teaches a child that they can’t be happy if they are to be successful. People mistake success and achieving with growing up, giving the perception that you have to rush to be a grown up in order to be successful. Stop it! You don’t! I’m a grown up physically, yes I do the responsible stuff where it’s a must but the rest of the time I’m there being 15 in my head, laughing at boobies and giggling when someone says something I can distort into something funny, normally dirty. It’s the laughing, the quick mind, the linear thinking, the graph database of my mind that keeps me young and it reflects on the outside.

I am never going to say “I’m too old for this” or “I’m too tired for this”. When it comes to dating I take a person on face value, I disregard their age, because I’ve met 25 year olds who think they’re 50 and 40 year olds who think they’re 20. I’m after the mind that matches mine because that’s what I deserve. I’m not 100% sure but I may well have met him, the one that’s making me forget right now seems pretty damn close, and the guy we call the one is slowly disappearing from my mind, a distant memory. I hope it stays that way, I know my mind has a tendency to flip a switch and send me hurtling down into the depths of hell if I’m not careful every now and then. There’s normally a trigger though, and that trigger is feeling trapped with no way out, like the eight of swords, blindfolded and hands tied, surrounded by swords but failing to see the path of water between them that leads the way out. So I’ve learnt that each time now I must look for the path and never give up hope even when I can’t see it, I’ll use my intuition, because the only things trapping me are the limitations of my own mind.

So beautiful followers, dare to dream big, act you shoe size, or any age you god damn please! Do what makes you happy. If it’s not working out, be honest with yourself and walk away. If it is then tell people, celebrate the happiness. A life of 150 years is too short to be miserable, a life of less years is tragic if it’s not fully lived.

I’ve got just over 112 years left to make it awesome… the possibilities are amazing if I put my mind to it and love every second…

Hot Gossip…

There’s always a point when your life becomes hot gossip, even if it’s just for a little while. Generally the people who are interested in analysing your every move are those with well… just not that much going on in their sad little lives. The idea that someone they know… kinda know is even better… is having some sort of life that seems exciting is more temptation than they can bear to stop them digging, pouring over every scrap of information they can glean together in order to build a picture and piece together that conclusion that they seek so badly, before probably putting on a dressing gown (yuck) and watching Big Brother because drama is everything to the person that has none and so needs to create it.

Some gossips are those that hate themselves so much, probably because there’s something deep down so desperately missing that they will tell as many people as possible to get some sort of attention because without it nobody really likes them.

Friends of mine who I’ve invited to follow my blog are the honoured few who I know will take and understand my story, it’s not always an easy one to write, but this place gives me an outlet when there’s not always space in my day to day life to get the stories out that trouble my mind.

Here’s the thing with the gossips, most of the time they’re there on the sidelines, adding to the storm if you don’t keep them at arms length. There are times in the past when I’ve let these people too close and been hurt in the process. I have no time for negativity. My life got better the day that the bad thoughts about people and situations stopped.

Exciting though my life now may seem on the outside, it is because I made it that way. Rather than spending my nights alone on my sofa crying, making plans to end it, wondering how much it would hurt if I did, thinking about the people and things I would leave behind and wondering if it mattered, as I had so many times at the beginning of my awakening into the life I have now. I take every opportunity the universe puts in front of me, follow the path of most excitement and leave the behind the path of least resistance. Not the choice for everyone, but certainly the choice for me.

The words I write have purpose, they are my therapy, I make sense of the thoughts that cloud my head as I write and re-write and analyse the feelings they bring. The words I write resonate with others who have similar thoughts, perhaps not the same, or have never thought that way and want to explore the minds of others.

When a negative person sits on the sidelines of your life, they enjoy your struggle. They add to your struggle, they don’t want your struggle to end, because their small source of excitement ends too. These people are what is known as energy vampires. And if you rise to them they will suck the life soul out of you. When your partner is cheating, they’ll be comforting you and most likely the other person in question not because they care, but because it gives them every last drop of negative to take and dwell on for their own perverted use.

They love to shit stir because they love the smell of their own bullshit… clouding the clear water of your life with their words of sewage, like they are the judge and the jury. Because they live by a set of morals and laws for other people above the standard of those they would ever be able to attain themselves.

Like the girl who stares at your outfit looking to see if you have a bit of a pot belly when they can barely fit into their own jeans. When we spend too long in the lives of others without permission we damage the person in question if they are not strong enough to deal with the negativity and destroy our own in the process, because our fat stupid mouth runs words without thoughts.

We all have skeletons, I’m not ashamed of mine, they made me who I am today and give me something to reminisce when I’m 90 years old and frail with that twinkle of mischief being all that remains. But that twinkle in my eye tells you there’s more behind the face, the hair, the smile and the body I work hard to maintain. I’m not just another girl with nothing but Eastenders, the cocktails I’m drinking so that people will like me or cheap clothes from the sweat shop store to fill my empty, sad little life. I’m badass because I want to be, because I realised quickly that I don’t wish to be yet another clone of the stereotype that the gossip tells me I should be.

The words of the gossip are not going to shackle me into stopping what I like doing. My life has its own rules and they are the rules I made myself. With the liberating feeling of “fuck you” in my head, my story carries on.

Now to kill off Mr Clingy 2,3,4 and 5… breaking up when there’s nothing there to break up in the first place, just the mythical relationship they created in their head is often the hardest to do.

And… The one who made me forget stayed over last night… he’s going to be tired in work today…

Focusing on what you want

A couple of weeks ago on a day I was just feeling really confused and missing the one again, after a few shitty dates where no one interested me at all and I felt like giving up, I got a Tarot reading for a bit of guidance. I asked what I should focus on most for August, my career, family, money, or love. Half expecting the answer to be family… I’ve done a lot of focussing on that lately with my daughter’s issues around seeing her dad, I waited for the response. I was hugely surprised to get the answer… love. But this was with a twist and actually made me think better about the whole thing.

The advice was not exactly to focus on finding love, more focus on what I would want out of it. What was I expecting, what was I comfortable with, what kind of person did I really want to meet? And it got me thinking, until that point I don’t think I’d really considered any of this. Did I even want to live with someone again? Was I ever going to be happy to settle down in the typical living together, sharing a bed, a bathroom, potentially every waking moment with someone? I really wasn’t sure. I think until now I’d thought that in order to be a whole person you needed to be part of a successful couple. You see when a young couple gets pregnant the world is willing them to fail. If you’re not the typically married with a house kind, you are doomed in the eyes of statistics and it makes you try to prove them wrong, against all odds and it’s generally pretty heart breaking. This is something I never want to experience again. A whole bag of nope right just there!

So if it’s not that then what the heck do I want?? And do I want any of it at all? Well that’s the part of the journey I think I’m finally getting to grips with. I’ve met some very needy men lately, these guys are usually childless, late 30’s and running out of time in their own eyes. They’ve either just never made it with an ex, or worked their arses off then got to 40 or almost 40 and realised they have a nice car, house (actually some had neither) but are incredibly lonely. These are the guys who would love a 25 year old but can’t have one so chase and chase to try capture a woman who’s still okay to have kids, but a bit older then pressure you to get on with it, yet again putting everything about you on hold whilst they reap the glory of sowing their seed successfully. I very nearly fell into that trap with ‘the Stand in’ and spotted it straight away with ‘dr yesterday’. There will be some girl out there for them, it won’t be me.

There is nothing worse than the guy who tries too hard. It just makes me wonder what’s being hidden. Cynical perhaps but my experience in this so far is that my cynicism is justified. They hope that you are in the same position of low self esteem as they are and will happily just submit to their will, take their name and do what a good housewife should. Hell no!

So what the hell is it I actually want? Well I’m always pretty clear about that. If you’re a fuck boy, I might play and when I’m bored I’ll say my goodbyes. If he’s half decent I might just give him a chance, but I kind of expect more than most can give. I’m not after a guy that will join me in ever hobby, nope that stuff is mine, get your own! But common ground, like the ability to be stupid, laugh at silly things and generally goof around is a must. No early risers please! Unless you’re gonna show me something interesting and that’s not waving your floppy dick in my face when I’m trying to sleep as the ‘stand in’ once did before he left for work at 7am when I was trying to sleep… I nearly bit it… half wish I did!

No, I think I’m after a guy who does his own thing, looks after himself and makes his own money, I don’t really care how much as long as he’s ambitious. Someone who can be positive even when things are shit, and will also accept that all my pets are important, they are not possessions. I don’t need a step dad for my daughter, I really do not believe the bull about no man about the house causes trouble. Actually an abusive man about the house is 100 times worse.

So I guess I need, a guy who’s good looking, I have to be attracted to him. A guy who can be passionate because well what the hell is the point otherwise? A guy who’s ambitious and isn’t gonna just sit there in a dead end job and moan constantly, also a guy who is capable of looking after himself, I’ve been a mommy to my own child and I’m not being a mommy to someone else’s again! Plus points… someone who will happily camp at a music festival and not give a toss about mud, the fact it’s pissing down and everything is soaked because we’re having too much fun to care. I don’t need a knight in shining armour, I fight my own battles, I quite enjoy that. And seriously stop running ahead to hold doors guys! I was born with two arms and if you carry on I’ll give you a playful right hook to prove it. Perhaps that’s it, I just want another human to co-exist with, sometimes I’ll hold the door and it won’t be some sort of crime. Sometimes I’ll get the bill and that will also be okay. And if he turns Machine Head off when I’m driving, it’ll be over.

Bonus points for the guy that hijacks a helicopter to fly me to the best spot to watch Metallica headline at a kick ass festival.

I don’t want much do I? Lol!

Little Prince…

So as I was free for the weekend a little while back and well not much to do that I felt like doing and the only other prospects being a bit stalky and needy I messaged a way too young for me guy for a bit of fun, because as we know, abs and biceps are where it’s at for me, preferably a full head of hair too…

And if you’re going to mess about with no strings attached well it may as well be worth your time. You get a lot of messages on some sites from guys who well… they’re desperate and ugly and have really let themselves go. Why would I want to touch that? This is not like rescuing a soon to be put down dog…

So I’d been talking to this cute guy who seemed a little innocent… but he was good looking. Half Persian half Welsh, he had good genetics, deep brown eyes and was well turned out. He turned up with chocolates in his Mercedes… probably paid for by property developer daddy, and admired the fire places in my house which was kind of cute.

It didn’t take long before we were upstairs…. clothes on the floor playing on my bed. He was cute but not relationship material and he would have done my head in if we were dating. But he knew the score, I was pretty clear about that. Personally I like being single, and like that I can do what I want when I’ve got free time. It’s probably going to take a lot to commit. I’m not talking material benefits now, there are plenty of those guys out there, there’s just nothing else to them.

Having removed the shackles of the beliefs that a predominantly Christian society has given me, I’m free to explore what I want, and that’s pretty damn liberating. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs and morals etc. But it’s when we put our own against others it causes harm. Our pagan ancestors celebrated love, but also sexuality. Women were powerful beings. It is only the later fear that the church has instilled within us all that a woman with power is a dangerous thing. Even today in this society of so called equality women who behave the same as their male peers are considered to be “gun ho”, “intimidating” amongst other things, when really were just asserting our right to be equal. I still remember the day a previous male manager told me that I was far too intimidating in meetings because I talk about technical subjects on the same level as developers. As a project manager at that time, really the issue was that he was out of his depth and didn’t like that I was able to understand things he couldn’t. He probably expected me to shut up… however it more unleashed a whole load of “fuck you and the horse you rode in on” and I left that manager for dust.

So my friends, enjoy life, live by your own standards, be honest and if the other person isn’t happy then part ways. We all deserve a life that’s full of experiences and we have the right to choose what we do.

So the little prince… we’ll see if I see him again. I might do just for fun, but I really hope that guy finds a girl who’s just right for him, because he will treat her like a princess but he’s not ready for a queen…

To PJ or Not to PJ…

I am a girl who has pretty much always slept in the buff, scientific studies show it’s actually better for you, your body needs to be at a cooler temperate to repair properly while you sleep. This in turn helps you to slow down the ageing process… I’m totally down with that!!!!

There’s other issue I find with wearing clothes to bed… everything gets so damned tangled, like you have sheets and PJs mixed together and before you know it, turning in your sleep means you’re in some sort of death knot when the friction of the PJ material and the sheets have got all tangled or worse still there now ridden up and you have yourself a wedgie situation… not cool. Then there the lack of airflow situation, I mean if you’re having to wear trousers or tights or whatever in work all day well you need to let the air flow happen to you know… rebalance…

The Stand In was a lover of PJs, soon as any deed was done his stupid old man PJs were back on, probably because he was too stingy to turn the heat on! PJs for me are for lazy mornings where you hang out around the house and don’t do all that much. Some people go shopping in theirs, I often wonder if they wore the to bed too… ew!

A friend of a friend does something entirely creative with one of her very disorganised sons, he goes to bed in fresh school uniform! Whatever works I guess!!! That is a plan probably born out of necessity and I feel is borderline genius. My daughter looks like she slept in her school uniform but actually she didn’t, she just somehow manages to make it look that way. Since the school she goes to upped their standards to include shirts and blazers she somehow looks scruffier than in the polo shirt she had before!!! And teenagers smell anyway, perhaps sleeping in school uniform is the way forward for all! Lol!

I’m always curious as to whether PJs are a British thing, I recon they probably are. I never got my head around onsies… effectively you are wearing and adult sized baby-grow, do people actually really sleep in those?

Worse still for me… dressing gowns! Yuck! Hoodies are the way forward for me! In my head there is nothing that shouts middle age better than a dressing gown and slippers! Again the Stand In would wear his dressing gown over his clothes in the house! Like WTF??? It was also a bit grotty and well used having been mauled by cats, again because he was too stingy to put the heat on and his skinny little body couldn’t retain heat… gross!

So there we have it! PJs are for lounging, dressing gowns should be burnt. End of.

Man Pokemon!

So I downloaded a dating app I’d used a while back because it was actually more likely to bring you matches of people you were likely to live near. After the fun of all the others where you set a radius that seems realist you start to realise that 30 miles just to meet someone for a date is really not realistic.

So how does this one work…? You activate the app, then as you go about you daily stuff if you walk past someone with the same app they come up on you… “what do you think?” List. You can like or ignore. It’s like hunting but secretly. What’s funny is the amount of people I know who have then turned up on my list… and shockingly some of them are married or living with girlfriends!!!

It’s funny how the use of apps and dating sites these days has perhaps taken the spontaneity out of meeting and perhaps dating people. No longer will a man approach you in the street and tell you you’re pretty, he’ll wait to see if you appear on his app first and message you later. That’s actually pretty sad. We almost live through our phones, the phone providing that buffer between you and reality… perhaps the idea of being turned down in person being too scary a prospect that a guy would rather approach you through virtual means. It feels like quite a British thing, abroad men seem a lot more open, in Rome back at the beginning of the year men were happy to approach, ask, even though I was clearly there with a guy, ‘the one’ or perhaps we should rename in ‘really wasn’t the one’. When I said, “I’m with him” they’d shake his hand and say, you look after her, make sure you never loose her and all that stuff, shame he never listened hey?

Perhaps this is where British Millennial’s fail at relationships so badly… they have no idea how to approach a woman for real, yet alone keep one! And with an app constantly there keeping lookout for the next they tend to jump from rebound to rebound!

So here we all are… catching Pokemon except this time it’s people… with feelings, a life, reality behind that profile. Not just another virtual animal that lives in a ball until you release it to come out and fight your battle… sadly, I think we all get so carried away with the game, the reality part gets forgotten. Well I meet my first Man Pokemon later tonight… we’ll see if he’s real or just another bit of code projecting an image providing a false reality that can never exist…