Jade

I got to thinking today about suffering, as I was nursing the hangover mentioned before! But not silly sticky self inflicted suffering, real suffering pain and poverty. A happy thought. We see most life through a lens or a screen in the west. The flooding and starving and bone crushing poverty that we see on the TV or on-line is objectified and turned into discourse until the writing, stories, myths and speculation surrounding the event become more important then the event and the people involved. We now care more about the nights in the super bowl than the thousands of people in New Orleans still have no home. How it demonstrated the inherent savageness of man, a return the primitive. Similarly the everyday plight of those in Zimbabwean becomes a list of evidence against Mugabe, rather than an actual physical reality for hundreds of thousands. The fact that I can sit here an write this shows my separation from these events, I must objectify them to then comment on how they have been objectified.
These thoughts were only crystallised during the story of Jade Goody. Hers was a life that was, to many of us, a story. From her birth into 'reality' to her actual death in front of our eyes she was ours. Her life only existed as an entertainment, as a stimulus to our lives. I think that is a vile type of inhumanity. But possibly inescapable.

This week

I had a bit of a Bridget Jones moment today, a right now right there that was the moment, moment. I stood at the bus stop watching the mothers taking their children to school under the new spring leaves. The morning sun was beginning to warm my back, as I stood their in last night’s rags and heals, desperate for the loo. My useless eyes thankfully blind to the looks on people’s faces, the jewels on my wrist doing nothing to hide my bagged eyes! Standing there, sick as a pig, I had my moment. My, it shouldn’t be this way moment. My, is this really how I want to be moment. But this is the point; I don’t have any evidence to the contrary to suggest that I am not this person. It’s getting past the point now that I can blame this on developing or youth, its getting to the point where, before long, this just becomes the person I am. Then what am I? I don’t want to be that any more, I don’t want to feel like this any more. To have crap nights and bad memories because I drink too much. So now i'v decided I don't want to drink any more. For a few weeks anyway. Problem is, these life defining moments seem to happen once a week for me. Tomorrow I might have another one and decide something else is hugely important. For today its TV, Exams and a takeaway.

The Island

Today they picked the person for the world's dream job...six months on an Australian Island where the only responsibilities were to look after the fish and write a blog! The winner seems lovely and I bet he'll have the time of his life. I was wondering whether to enter, I very much doubt I would of got it there were hundreds of thousands of applicants! But today walking to Uni to hand in my dissertation I came up with the video entry I would use if it ever came up again.



Picture photos and video of all of these things flashing up as I say them. Except the bungee jumping which is currently a lie! (although wont be after Victoria falls)


So why pick me,
For the worlds dream role,
Well now you’ll see,
Cuz iv got soul,

I'm a scuba diving,
Paragliding,
Death defying,
Maniac.
A blog writing,
Cause fighting,
Exciting,
Brainiac!

I’m a degree having,
Windsurfing,
Bungee jumping,
Historian.
A peace loving,
Tree hugging,
conservation
Thunder storm!

Hitched hiked across Europe
Trekked the Andes and Alps
Lived in Peru
On the string of a shoe
And Africa too!

As a Fundraising
Fish feeding
Strong swimming
Adventurer
An English teaching
Sky reaching
World loving
Wanderer

I’m all of this and what else more
OH so much I’ll tell you later!
So why delay, pick me today
As your wonderful island’s caretaker.

People

For a while now I've been contemplating how things which can seem so fantastic and worthy of your jealousy from the outside are inevitably fraught with problems in reality. The perfect relationship, the perfect smile, the perfect grades, the perfect household: dig a little deeper and there's always an issue, always a problem, its never what you expect it to be.

Today I was sitting with some people who were discussing a person who I know, though not very well. I had always assumed from this person's confidence and general demeanour that they were universally liked, breezy, happy, with no problems in the world. From behind my book I listened. The picture was painted of a proud, difficult and easily dis-likable person. Many unknown enemies. Much unhappiness.

I sat there pretending to read "On the Road" and began to think about green monsters with green eyes. It didn't matter whether every thing these people were saying was right or wrong, all that mattered at that moment was that someone I had held up and an untouchable, one of those people I could never be, was in fact me with another name. Maybe somewhere on campus a similar conversation was going on about me, where someone who had assumed my life was perfect was finding out the truth.

The fact is not one of us has a perfect life. Not one of us has nothing they dislike about themselves or that others dislike about them. All that matters is striving to be happy in your own skin and not desperately wanting to slip into someone else's. You might find you preferred your problems.