A Bit Of Reflection

Posted in General musings, Mini existential crisis mode by

Posted on May 12, 2012

Four years ago today – almost to the hour – I reached the end of a long downward spiral which unfolded during my first year of uni. After an initially promising start, I endured a traumatic experience which propelled an already-budding eating disorder from mild to severe – going from mild to severe bulimia, with a direct transition into anorexia (only resorted to in a last-ditch effort to “cure” the bulimia) which, in turn, took on a life of its own. As these things tend to do. Eventually, I checked into a clinic in order to temporarily hand over the controls to a third party, as I had clearly demonstrated I wasn’t capable of doing so anymore. A place which I had never previously given a second thought to, simply as a place of luxury where those in “high society” would go for a quick holiday, refreshed and ready to taint themselves with debauchery all over again, until their next check-in.

For me, it was either that or go somewhere hundreds of miles away, and that was something I couldn’t deal with. So it wasn’t so much the “luxury option” as the “only bearable option” at the time.

My entire memory of that time in my life is quite hazy, characterised by even more peculiar than usual thoughts and decisions and obsessions, all pursued in the futile attempt at taking back the reigns in my failed attempt at a new life. It even reached a point where – for reasons still not entirely clear to me now – I didn’t feel like I deserved to be “me” anymore, the “me” who made all the mistakes which led to me getting into that state in the first place.  It took an extremely long time to return to the things I once loved from then on.

I’m not sure I’m able to, at the moment, give a full auto-bigraphical account of the time but in short, after a testy bout of physical and mental re-feeding, I began to slowly piece my personality back together, having become a weird sort of drone obeying strict and incomprehensible self-made laws of living, and I began to fight back for a pitiful shred of self-control which I mistook for a sense of autonomy. However, before I could tackle this properly, I was ejected prematurely – good old health insurance – and ended up in a limbo consisting of “just holding on”, which would last into the foreseeable future.

Many things have changed since then, apart from making an almost accidental physical recovery. I moved back to my hometown, moved away again, had my “first time” (I think you know what I mean), came back to my hometown, restarted uni, got a dog called Charlie, my Gran passed away, I went on a few mini-breaks, I got inked for the first time, I got together with a long-term friend who would become my fiancé, discovered a fondness for cycling in the countryside, went away some more, started eating more…

Even a year ago today, I remember thinking about all the above which had happened in the few years since that rather strange day. I still had, and have, much of the same issues with my mind and my body and overall sense of self-assurance. Replacing one problem with another has been a lifelong tendency of mine, and that doesn’t look set to change.

The cause of all that has happened is probably more important to realise than the actual stuff that has taken place since then. But I owe it to myself and to those in my life to try and find a better way to make the most of life I have remaining.

It will be interesting to see what will happen in another year’s time.

That Which Is Forthcoming…

Posted in General musings, Literary appreciation (at the risk of sounding pretentious from time to time) by

Posted on April 27, 2012

So this is what being a graduate is going to be like…

A whole lotta: applying for all the jobs and positions going, waiting for replies that rarely come, feeling like I should be doing something more productive but, more often than not, not really seeing the point of setting foot outside. Because, it seems, that unless I am seen to be in company, it seems that I am not entirely welcome. Being ignored completely in a cafe – then being asked to shift seats more than once because I was *gasp* A-Lone, and probably wouldn’t mind being squished in between people, the corners of whose newspapers would be close enough to poke me in the face.

The inspiring, but equally depressing, Virginia Woolf novella/essay, “A Room of One’s Own”, inevitably springs to mind; inspiring because it articulately depicts the plight of many in an example of a great literary essay; depressing, not least of all because, although to have a room of one’s own is, historically, a relatively new luxury for many, it seems that even today once you step out the front door everyone wants a piece of you – and maybe it’s just me, but it can get a bit draining. But then you would probably ask why don’t I put this time I do have alone to good use, try and produce something worthwhile maybe..? Well I do try, but at some point one needs a bit of inspiration from a source elsewhere.

Therein lies the dilemma, how to stay sane in a world gradually making less and less sense. Yeah, unless absolutely necessary, for the foreseeable future staying in might be “the way” to go.

Pre- vs. Post- Modern Culture

Posted in Literary appreciation (at the risk of sounding pretentious from time to time), Wibbling by

Posted on April 21, 2012

Oscar Wilde is truly awesome. Why can’t we have more people with the steady flow of wit and sharp observation of contemporary culture today?

I even wrote a poem on the subject as a tribute.

 

(Inspired during a trip to Dublin)

“An Apology to Mr Wilde”

Greetings Mr Wilde,

I believe you were expecting me

To drop by – or quite the opposite.

I can only say sorry

Things happen (the temptation to indulge my curiosity)

As they do in your town.

Your place of residence is open

To scholars and selected people only.

But I would like to give it a try.

I would rather listen to a word or phrase

Of your devising, than a whole conversation full of plagiarised pop culture

(if that is the right term for the mediocrity which is popular today).

But you were “not in”. Not to a passer-by like me anyway.

But an excuse – a good one, a better one.

I have none. I rarely have the words to say

Which capture the essence of what I really must say

Before the moment also passes by…

I will try again another time certainly.

Soon.

Promise.

Gym Bunny

Posted in Wibbling by

Posted on April 21, 2012

I gave the gym another try today. I’m not long back and already I feel all the better for going. That feeling would probably be all the more justified if I weren’t nursing a Brother’s Pear Cider as I write this but hey!

Fitness is one of those concepts which doesn’t seem so scary in its pure word-form. “Fitness” – perhaps not the most exciting word but relatively innocuous, not likely to strike fear and loathing into the average gym-trying person.

However it is the context in which it is most frequently used which is likely to steer me reliably away from it. It inevitably brings to mind those glorious specimens who have achieved this Fitness standard, and who make it their personal mission to permeate the public with this epiphany they have chanced upon, worked towards, and now have the flawless and flab-free physique as proof of their endurance. However there are days – not an overwhelming number but enough to notably tarnish my fitness “reputation” – when I am convinced that “fun-run” has to be ultimate example of an oxy-moron…

“You Are Now Certified To Be…”

Posted in General musings, Wibbling by

Posted on April 21, 2012

I got my TEFL certificate the other day. Proof of my having spent 60 hours (*cough* ahem *more like three*) learning how to become the exemplary good teacher and bestow my limited worldly wisdom to an as-yet-anonymous, and potentially quite intimidating, classroom full of foreign schoolchildren. Or adults, even.

Admittedly, much of it is learning by rote the best methods of teaching, which in itself is an important lesson for would-be teachers who would otherwise, albeit with the best intentions in their newfound calling, manage to scar the poor kiddies – or “adulties”, even – for life. Or at least put them off learning the English or indeed any other language.

Also admittedly, there is something of a slight sense of hypocrisy in upholding the importance and value of every language in the “global village” which the world is fast becoming, and then teaching the people who are charged to your temporary care, that actually, English is the way to go. That is, if you want to be acknowledged professionally, or at least have to deal with the vast number of tourists who refuse to shift from their own nicely bastardised version to learn a few helpful words or phrases of your own obscure language.

But it helps a lot of people, admittedly. And it’s not to say that they can’t ditch their home language and culture. It just means that they can speak English to your face, and laugh at you with their comrades in Japanese, or something.

I Suck At Writing

Posted in Wibbling by

Posted on April 21, 2012

I suck at writing.

Might as well put it out there and come to terms with it.

You’d think that investing much of my life studying the writing of others I’d be able to produce a reasonable standard of my own. Problem is my mind does the equivalent of the “DUHHHHH” that can overtake one when most wanting to impress the notable person who has just walked into the room and bestowed their greeting upon little insignificant me.

But that doesn’t exactly stop me from trying.