This Note Is Marked Return To Sender

I usually have a few books on the go, I like to be able to pick up a book to suit my mood. At the moment I'm reading:

• Dead Until Dark - Charlane Harris
• Auschwitz: The Nazi's And The Final Solution - Laurence Rees
• Beyond Fear & Control: Working with Young People Who Self Harm - Helen Spandler & Sam Warner
• Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self - Joseph Galliano

Not the most cheerful of lists, I'm aware of that!
The last on the list has inspired this blog entry. It's a collection of letters that various famous people have written to their sixteen year old selves (as the title suggested!). It got me thinking about what I'd put in a letter to my sixteen year old self. Some of them in the book wrote about what happens in their future, but for me that's cheating, I wouldn't want to know what happens in my life before I live it. Others were written as a warning, some reflective on them at that time of their lives, some were advisory. Many of them are bittersweet - funny with a hint of wistfulness for a time long gone and that essence of everything that goes into the makeup of a sixteen year old psyche and view on life.
So this is my attempt at a letter to my sixteen year old self....

 

Dear Me
Hiya! You'll have noticed that I haven't called you a name. That's because your name is a bit of an issue for you at the moment, and I'm not sure which vernacular I should be using to write to myself... friendly, family, authoritative... and I don't want to offend this early into your letter!
You'll also notice that I'm (we're??) still using a lot of punctuation (possibly too much, but if that's the worst criticism someone can pin to my door then I'd say I'm doing pretty well). I like to think it adds character to things :)
I know that you understand a sideways smiley face (I believe they're called 'emoticons') after having spent aaaages trying to decipher it in a text from CB. If that hasn't happened yet, then just to clarify, you'll meet a great lad with those initials and you'll get your own mobile telephone that has this application that means you can text other people on their mobiles - kind of like paging but two way.
I digress... So I know you're going through a hard time at the moment, I'm not going to tell you how things with your Dad pan out or what happens with the whole self harm thing. That's a path for you to figure out on your own, but I will tell you I'm not writing this from inside an institution or from beyond the grave so hold onto the knowledge that things get easier for you.
One thing I will say though is to cherish every moment you can with Gran. Listen to her stories about Grandad and their lives. Ask those questions about her early life - those ones that will paint a picture of her so much beyond the image of her as your grandmother. And in Grandma's lucid moments, do the same with her. There's so much they can tell you, and you'll wish you could have learnt from them. By now it's already too late to do that with both Grandad's and Great Gran, so make the most of them.
Keep loving music, it paints the colour of your life so make sure it's present in every part of it. Stay true to who you are, even though I know right now you don't have much a clue of who that is. Oh, and in the Easter holidays in your second year at college you'll go to a party at IY's - kiss SO, you'll always regret not kissing him. Trust me!
That brings me to my last pearl of wisdom: don't let your insecurities and paranoia get the better of you, it's the things you don't do that you'll regret the most.
Oh, and just a sneak preview - by the time you're 28 you'll have dyed your hair pinker than flamingos and had a ring pierced through your nipple....
Take care of yourself (myself??)
Me xxx

I Wish It Was Sunday, Because That's My Fun Day

I had a lovely day yesterday, so thought I'd blog it in order to preserve it for the archives of my history!  It wasn't particularly an amazing day insomuch as I didn't meet my idols or jump on a plane to anywhere my money in my pocket would take me.  But it was a fulfilling day, one of those 'chicken soup' kind of days if you know what I mean.  I woke quite early so spent a couple of hours curled up reading a book I didn't expect to enjoy half as much as I am (it's a book club book and not one I'd usually pick off a shelf to read, but I guess that's the point of book clubs).  Then I went for a wonder around M&S, and drove there with my car roof down, sun shining and Metallica's Death Magnetic playing ear bleedingly loud.  I digress slightly here to just write briefly about Death Magnetic.  Like the book, it wasn't an album I was expecting to fall in love with.  Quite often now I've found myself appreciating Metallica's work rather than really feeling something for it.  I *love* their early work, but later stuff not so much.  Death Magnetic has really grown on me without me noticing, and has become one of my favourite album purchases of the year for sure.
Back to yesterday.... I spent the afternoon in the sunny back garden belonging to Caroline and Ian, relaxing, laughing, eating barbeque, watching the kids running about enjoying the summery weather.  Despite the sunburn (which almost 24 hours on is still hot to the touch and somewhat lobster-y in colour), and not booking our holiday (because of the volcano ash thing) the afternoon was exactly what I needed. 
And from there I went to my parents to see my aunt and uncle who were visiting for the day.  They're the kind of family that isn't a hassle to be around, you can just relax and have fun with them.  I've not seen them since Christmas so was nice to sit and have a cuppa and a catch up with them.
The evening from then consisted of Time Team geekery and another hour or so of reading my book before having a really good night sleep (without nightmares and semi-awake hallucinations - hurrah!).
So that was my day.  Nothing spectacular as I said, but was a great day nonetheless. 

I Was Up Above It, Now I'm Down In It

It seems to happen that each time I write confidently about being in a happier place that I end up feeling rubbish again.  Maybe it's because I make myself more conscious of how I'm feeling - if I hadn't written about being happier becoming easier, then I wouldn't be so acutely aware of how awful I feel at the moment.  Or maybe I would be, but I wouldn't be berating myself so much for feeling this way. Or maybe I wouldn't have had an internal fight with myself about blogging how I feel; feeling like I'm letting people down by being in this place.  I could have written this in my diary.  I could have written pages about how for the last five days I've exhausted myself trying to smile and make conversation with people, how I've lost count the number of times I've had to hold in the tears and used every ounce of strength I have to not cut.  The thing is though, I need people to know how I'm feeling.  I can't pick up the phone and text or ring someone and tell them (we're back to the 'letting people down'/'not being important enough to bother people' thing here), so I'm blogging it instead.  I'm not expecting people to comment or to contact me - that's not what this is about.  I just needed someone to know.  I guess the thought process behind that being I won't be so alone. 
I know logically that this won't last, that I'll come out of it again.  The trouble is I need to come out of it soon and I don't know what I can do to help that process because it's come (pretty much) out of the blue.   

I Know It Sounds Absurd, But Please Tell Me Who I Am

I was going to write something profound for my hundredth blog entry.  But this is 101 so clearly I missed that.  Perhaps that's profound in itself..... Anyway....  When I started this blog on 15 November 2007 I didn't know what to put in a blog, how to write it, how often to write it, or the point in writing it.  Two years and four months on I've found my answers: I write what I want, however I want, whenever I want and the point of it being because I want or need to write things down.  Writing has always been an incredibly cathartic process for me - poetry, diary entries, short stories, letters that I have no intention of sending - and blog entries can now be added to that list.  It's a different style of writing, a different style of being honest to the world and to explore my head and my heart.  On some occasions I've been able to be more open and honest on here than I have face-to-face with people.  And maybe that's because some things are too hard to say to people.  Or because I literally can't say it to people - those who are no longer part of my life, or part of this world. 
In some ways I made a rod for my own back with this blog by calling it 'telling the truth'.  I guess I felt it was time to face myself and my life and figure out what my truth actually is.  Little did I know where that journey would take me.  Little do I know where that journey will continue to take me. 
One thing continues to puzzle me though with my blog.  And that is that people who don't know me from Adam 'follow' it.  I don't understand why really.  That's probably part of my not understanding why people would want to be my friends thing coming through.  But really though?  What's so interesting about what I have to say that people actually want to read it?
So to update entry number one from 15 November 2007, I still work a generic job surrounded by a suffocating abyss of polyester nothingness.  But I only work that job 2 days a week.  The other 3 days I get to do what makes me feel alive.  It makes me feel like I'm finally making a difference to this world, that my life has a meaning and that I won't leave this world without having made an impression on it.  Okay so it's not an impression that is going to be on history curriculums in a hundred or two hundred or three hundred years time.  And that's okay with me, because I know that thanks to me in my role as Youth Worker there is a young person alive in this world that wouldn't be without the help and support I gave them.  Pretty humbling really, knowing that.
So two years and four months on am I happy?  Is life still tough?  I could go with my default depressive stance and say the answers are 'no' and 'yes'.  That wouldn't be true though.  Am I happy?  Not all the time, probably not even most of the time.  But yes, I do have moments when I can put my hand on my heart and say I'm truly happy.  And that feeling takes my breath away.  Is life still tough?  Sure, but I think it always will be.  I'm okay with that though, because like the happiness thing fluctuates, so does the toughness.  It's getting easier, or maybe it's just getting easier to handle.  Either way, life doesn't seem quite so much the effort it was 100 blog entries ago.

The Ghost Of A Steam Train - Echoes Down My Track

This reminded me of Him. And since I can't tell him, I'm blogging it instead...

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

I went to see Perfect Alibi at The Brook last night. They are a pretty well respected Pink Floyd tribute band, and was the last night that their current front man would be playing with them. I like Pink Floyd; with a best friend for whom to recite their lyrics is as natural as breathing, and a father obsessed with all things prog-rock, there was not much chance of me ever NOT liking them really. Having said that, my knowledge of them is not extensive, I have a few of their albums but it tends to be that I hear them more because of shuffle on my ipod than through picking them to listen to. It is always a lovely treat when one of their tracks comes on - there's a theatrical nature and a feeling of immensity (I'm not sure that's a word...) with pretty much every song they created.
So I was a bit sceptical about how good Perfect Alibi would be, as I tend to be generally a bit dimissive about tribute bands, although I'm trying to let that go! Having spent many drunken and very fun evenings in The Brook though, I jumped at the invite to go see them play there. From the outside it was the same as it always was, but walking in I was totally thrown. It's been refurbished and is light and could almost be described as 'airy'. For anyone who knew it ten years ago, that's really not how you'd describe the entrance way! Walking into the bar area though was like putting on a pair of old jeans: comfy, relaxed, a little worn and loved all the more for that. I won't add here that it was full of middle aged, slightly sweaty men with a lot of hair, because that isn't generally what I associate with my old jeans!
The place was packed and the band played for three hours non-stop. They were brilliant - they've made their careers about paying tribute to one of the most influential, ground-breaking bands ever to grace this earth - and they do so with style, grace, passion and buckets of ability. Watching them play, it was clear how much they love Pink Floyd. There were a few times when it was almost like we were trespassing on a private transcendental moment, they became totally at one with their beloved music.
Perfect Alibi have certainly helped in my journey to stop that voice in my head that mocks tribute bands. And I want to thank them for reminding me how much fun a night out in The Brook is. To The Brook I want to say this: I will be back soon, I've missed my comfy jeans.

Running Up That Hill

I've made a decision. It is a decision that hundreds of people make every day, and something I've wanted to do for a long time, but never had the courage to do. I'm going to join a gym. The reason I've been too scared to join one is because of the judgement and disgust I imagine the instructors would have about me. I've spent so long being ashamed, but the idea of seeing that judgement I have of myself reflected in someone elses eyes has been too much for me to face. Only now things are beginning to change. I still have a long way to go, but the five stone I've lost so far is beginning the stirrings of confidence somewhere within. I feel like if I do see that judgement I'm expecting in their eyes, then I can counter it with 'fuck off, I'm doing really well' - even if I just say it in my head. I'm getting my life back, as I've said before, and this is my next step. Only this time, it's a really big, and pretty scary step.