This is particularly accurate for me right now.
Over the last year I’ve done a hell of a lot on my own. I go to meetings, I’ve set up a business, I’ve networked and gone to meet clients. I’ve taken the train any number of times to other cities to do things that pull me from my comfort zone, force me into other folk’s orbits and then send me hurtling homeward again. This is a big deal for someone who, years past, would have stayed home in the dark rather than going somewhere unaccompanied.
I’ve been doing a hell of a lot of studying. Tomorrow is my final presentation for my business course, and Weds is my final presentation for my Uni course. I’ve enjoyed it, to some degree, but I’m really looking forward to it being over, too.
Bliss is a day spent relaxing and preparing for the week ahead.
I hardly left the house today, so I decided to spontaneously pick a pic from my stash.
This one makes me smile:
Pandon and Kipper, #bllphotoaday
May Day.
Tomorrow is the first day of May. On the Pagan calendar, the holiday Beltane is coming up fast, on May 5th.
May is spring. It’s springing from your seed, ready to bloom into the world. It’s movement, rebirth, growth. It’s putting into action all the stuff you spent the long dark winter planning. May is sexual awakening too (the rights of Beltane were often celebrated with folks going off into the woods together to spend a night doing the dirty).
Perhaps paradoxically, my spring has started off with me growing in a new way–learning to say no to things and prioritizing what I need to do. If you know me, if you’ve been reading for a while, you know this is HUGE for me. I turned down a conference I really wanted to go to because I knew I’d be spreading myself too thin on the day. I only booked a teaching day in Leicester because I knew other scheduled things weren’t happening that week.
And on the other hand, I’m learning to network. To chat, discuss, politely laugh, send emails, and generally get folks to remember me. This seems to have led to another teaching opportunity in London…we’ll see.
Coming up on my to-do list:
Poster presentation for my Uni work (think third grade science fair, with judges coming around to ask questions. Yes, really. No, I don’t know why), business presentation for the end of my business course to business owners in the community (think Dragon’s Den, with no money in it), blood tests/clinic visit, teaching marginalized kids, writing lecture at the BBC, Women of Troy at the theater, workshops for phd cred, editing, editing, editing. Writing, writing, writing.
And then the first weekend of June brings the Bold Strokes Book Festival in Nottingham, which is coming up fast. I REALLY hope you’ll be there.
So, because I’ve got some time in my schedule May, I’m going to participate in Be Love Live’s next month long photo challenge, Who Am I? I’m hoping it will get me to think about who I am in relation to the budding world around me, even as I throw stuff on my calendar like splattering mud on a window. Some sticks, some smears.
What are your plans for May? Are you coming to the event in June in Nottingham?
Song: Somebody that I used to know by Gotye
Book: The Dragon Tree Legacy by Ali Vali
I grew up in Los Angeles. We lived in various cities throughout the area, and many years 
off and on in the high desert, a vast cat litter box of dry houses and dryer people.
I listened to all kinds of music. I went through a hardcore rap phase in my late teens, which is pretty damn funny to think about now. Me in a Jeep with my equally blonde best friend singing Smack My Bitch Up at the top of our lungs as we flew down that long stretch of desert highway.
But one type of music has stuck with me for much of my adult life, and for the most part I’m usually ashamed to admit it, but here it is, my declaration of my deep-set addiction:
I like country music.
And the thing is, I never really thought about why I like it. We’ve been in this country for nearly six years now, and there are no country music stations here. None. But the other day I found an app for my phone that allows me to listen to various country stations from all over the US.
And while listening to this in the bath, I thought, good god this is awful and cheesy. Why do I like it?
So I really listened. And then it hit me. I like country music not for the music itself, but for the language.
The often cheesy, silly, downright absurd language. Because it’s full of metaphor and simile Eg. She’s ten pounds of sugar in a five pound sack.
Horrible, right? Cheesy. But…descriptive. And in this moment, where my creativity is ebbing and flowing like the lagoon in Venice, I need that kind of description around me. That kind of word play and fun with language. I need songs about love and longing and leaving as I attempt to write my own twisted love story. Yes, Virginia Woolf and Iris Murdoch do amazing things with language too. But they’re not exactly fun.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
What do you listen to? Why do you like it?
Book: The Waves by Virginia Woolf
Song: More than Miles by Brantley Gilbert
I was looking at my blog stats, and I was sad to see them gradually declining. People are
popping by less, and even readers who used to comment frequently have drifted away on a cyber cloud.
I was wondering why this was, and then I realized: I’m blogging a lot less.
In fact, I’m writing less in general.
Really, I haven’t written anything worth salt since November.
I mean, I’ve blogged, yeah. Here and there. I blogged a fair amount in January. A bit less, but still a good chunk in February. And then it became a steady decline. I haven’t written anything on my PhD, I haven’t written any short stories to send out to the world. I’ve written a few essays for class, a chunk of business proposal.
I’m realizing that my creative mojo has gone into hibernation, thanks to the mess of red tape and very non-creative work on my plate at the moment. And that shit needs to stop. Because I need to start writing again. It’s a part of who I am, and when I get all bogged down in non-creative stuff, I turn into an old fusspot who wears slippers ninety percent of her day and uses big words when small ones would suffice.
Which leads to another realization I came to today:
A friend of mine put on FB: ‘why are you always surprised when things go well? you need to do something about your self esteem!’
And it made me wonder–why am I always surprised?
I pondered that. Over dishes, and folding laundry. Cleaning the bathroom, and working on my cash flow projection sheet. Debating on the nature of the press release and the scheduling of the program. While figuring out what non-wheat, non-meat, non-dairy thing to make for dinner.
Ding.
I don’t feel confident because I don’t have the time to feel confident. I’m doing so many things, concentrating on so many different aspects of my life, that each one only gets a smidgen of my time and attention. So when that smidgen turns out to be enough, well, yeah, I’m surprised. And when that smidgen doesn’t turn out to be enough…well, yeah, I’m not terribly surprised.
But how do you decide what to give up, when you can see a worthy end result coming from all the stuff you do? If I gave anything up, would I actually fill the time wisely and focus on something, or would I just while it away and still end up with only smidgens of time available?
How would YOU decide?
Song: Let Me Be Your Fantasy by Ruff Loader
Book: The Waves by Virginia Woolf
Attending University is about many things. It’s about an education, learning stuff you didn’t
know. It’s about leaving home, meeting other students, exchanging ideas, expanding your horizons.
And it’s about confidence.
Outwardly I’ve always seemed confident. I talk openly with people, volunteer for things, etc.
But inwardly I’m a heapful of insecurity. I’m often convinced I’m deeply unlikable stupid, charmless and a fake.
These feelings rise to my mottled surface particularly when I’m exasperatingly busy. Like the last two weeks, for instance.
I do not like public speaking. I turn strawberry red, I shake, I feel sick to my stomach. This is made worse if I’m not confident about whatever it is I’m presenting. But even if I know what I’m talking about inside and out, if there’s no one in the room more expert than me, I’m still convinced I’m going to sound like a chimp giving instructions to fish.
And if, god forbid, someone should challenge me?
Blank.
I think of a million things I could have said when I’m in bed at two in the morning. But when I need them, words fail me. I instantly go on the defensive and figure the other person must have knowledge I lack. And it kills my confidence. This morning on a train in the dark at 6:00, I’m convinced I’m worthy of daytime television and not much more.
This is something I need to work on. Conflict and disagreement are part of life. Academic discussion will mean people disagreeing with me. I need to learn others aren’t always right just because they vocalize their thoughts.
I need a backbone.
(Last week I presented a paper in Belfast, yesterday I presented one in London. The next one isn’t until June. Plenty of time to find a spine.)
Today’s conference was excellent. Not only did I not have to present, but I made some great contacts and got a wealth of information. I’ve ended the day on a positive.
Happy weekend all.
Home –> Tram. Bus. Tram. Shuttle. Plane. Taxi. Bus. Bus (eight hours). Walking. Taxi. 
Plane. Shuttle. Tram. Bus. Tram. Home.
There was more to Belfast than the travel.
It’s a lovely city. Loads of hotels, places to eat, museums and tours. And I don’t think I’ve ever come across a nicer, more polite, generous people. Really, every single person we spoke to was surpassingly nice.
We did the open top bus tour (the open top was full, so we were downstairs). While it was interesting, it was also very warm, and the guide’s voice was monotone. I kept drifting off to sleep…
But when I was awake, I saw the many murals that cover the city. Each details some aspect of the ‘troubles’ they have there (the word everyone used was ‘troubles’ which seems quite tame when considering what’s actually happened there). I took several pictures, and put a few on FB. S nearly had a heart attack when she saw them, and I took them off right away. In my mind, I was sharing what I was seeing while traveling. But she reminded me we have many Irish friends who might be extremely offended by those murals. If you are one of those Irish friends, and I insulted you, I’m really sorry. I find it fascinating as an outsider, but realize now that you may have utterly different feelings on the matter…
Onward.
We took an all day bus tour as well. I’ve wanted to see the Giant’s Causeway pretty much all my life, and it’s a definite bucket list thing. That was the last stop on a great day of castles, ocean scenery, the Bushmill’s Whisky factory and the amazing rope bridge at Carrick-A-Rede. I wasn’t sure if S would make it across, as she gets vertigo, but she grabbed hold of the ropes and set off, on a mission. If any old ladies or children had been in her way, she probably would have just gone right over them.
When my turn came I have to admit I got a bit waffly in my tummy. There’s a hundred foot drop below you, and the thing bounces like crazy. But it was well worth it. The views from the other side were really beautiful.
The Giant’s Causeway was just as surreal and exquisite as I had hoped it would be. To think something so exact was created through the chaos of a volcanic eruption. The weather was beautiful and as crowds go, it was pretty empty. (We managed to get lots of pics with no one in the background, which is probably impossible in high season).
The conference went really well. I realized after I could probably add a bit of bookish stuff to it to make it sound a bit more academic, but there was some really good conversation after, and I met some really nice people.
S and I finished off the night at a great place called McCracken’s, which we found down a little side alley. The service was good, the music lovely, the food perfect.
So, that was the last four days. The weather was extremely cold, but blue skies stayed with us. (I had on three layers under a thick sweater covered by a ski jacket. That kind of cold).
Today, I’ve put together the PowerPoint for the conference I’m presenting at in London on Thursday. Tomorrow I’ve got a business meeting in the morning and physio in the afternoon. Tues is my business course all day and theater in the evening (Pygmalion). Weds is my PhD course, all day. Thursday is the conference in London. Friday is the conference in Cambridge.
My question for you, readers:
Have you been somewhere where you felt like a true outsider, and didn’t really understand the undercurrents native to the culture? How did you deal with it?
Song: Take it off by Kesha
Book: Writing without teachers by Peter Elbow
