Posts (page 2)

Before I launch into my post I'd just like to say that I'm not...

Whatever.

How many blogs have you seen beginning like that? How many have I written like that? (Probably more than I'd happily acknowledge). I'm officially calling bullshit on my own disclaimer policy, and I'm urging the rest of the net to do the same.

There are a few times when it is necessary to give a disclaimer:

1. When you know the person you're reviewing / writing about. Not admitting to this will encourage people to think you've been biased and are trying to hide it.

2. Erm, no, that was it.

The other day I read a letter that was anti-lads mags in a London freebie paper. The Conservatives have been bewailing lad mag culture and the way it makes women look relentlessly disposable and sexually available. The woman who was agreeing, Marissa, felt the need to start her letter with: "I'm not a feminist, man-hater, lesbian or Tory." She went on to explain that she had a 14 year old daughter and was aware that teenage girls soak up influence like sponges.

Yes, yes they do. Which is why I'm terribly concerned that you're teaching your 14 year old daughter that it's okay to have principles about women provided you don't sleep with them, don't want equality for them and don't have Conservative political principles.

This disclaimer is as a result of one thing and one thing only. Marissa has been led to believe by a combination of societal bullshit and media manipulation that to think that all people - regardless of gender - should be treated as equally as is humanly possible is a bad thing. Women who do that terrible thing about bleating on about pay gaps and the right to not be vilified if they choose to stay at home to raise children / go to work while raising children / not have children (let's face it - you can't win) are all lesbian man-haters! Didn't you know?

What I love (read: hate) about the inclusion of lesbianism there is that even if you accept the very, very wrong implication that feminism is about man-hating militants, you also have to accept that two women in a relationship together are anti-male and obviously evil.

So we have homophobia, complete failure to understand the central tenets of feminism and the totalitarian disregard of anyone who dares to disagree with Labour principles. So far, so great for Marissa's 14 year old daughter, don't you think?

I really need to check my bitterness, I know that. I hope that Marissa's daughter opens her mind a crack and teaches her mother that it's not necessary to pad out an opinion with disclaimers. So what if trolls and fuckwits think that they only reason you're making your (otherwise good!) point is because you're a rug-munching, ball-breaking, fascist, superiority complex driven feminazi? Doesn't that say more about them than it does about you?

For the love of God, please teach your daughter that principles are principles and that it should be possible to make a reasoned and reasonable contribution to a debate without having to castrate everything you say with words that scream "accept me!".

Don't undermine what you think, especially when what you think about the belittling of women in lads mags makes a lot of sense. Please teach your daughter to be a human first and a stereotype second never. It's the only chance our future has.

By 'self-entitlement' I mean that over-inflated sense of their rights that some people get. You know - the ones who complain about free services that someone's given up their time to provide because "if you're going to offer that you should do it right." Even though they're not paying for it, nor did they realise it was necessary to them until it was offered.

I've come across a lot of that recently. It drives me mad, probably in a weirdly jealous way. What I call chutzpah others would probably call (justified) entitlement. I'm the kind of idiot who feels embarrassed claiming stuff for free. Even if it had a sign on it saying: "this is for Alex and she should take it because if she doesn't THE WORLD WILL END."

I still don't think that's the entire reason for my irritation, though. It's a bit like when kids (or adults, for that matter) don't thank you for a gift properly. And by properly, I mean a phone call OR a short note OR the words "thank you". That's it. I actually get kind of embarrassed when people are overly thankful but it bothers me beyond belief when even basic manners aren't observed. As a child I had it drummed into me that it was a shame on me, my family and all Greek people everywhere if I didn't give Thia Wossname a kiss on each cheek and thank her properly. If Thio Pootle was in another country I had to ring him up and do the embarrassing speaking-to-relatives-on-the-phone thing. Complete with red-faced gurning and probably gramatically incorrect Greek.

I've had to deal with a few small issues recently which have resulted in people getting very melodramatic about them. In the scheme of their lives these are teeny, tiny, infinitesimal problems which I am genuinely doing my best to fix. But they require time and patience (and charity resources) and really, I could do without the indignant nagging over something they wouldn't have otherwise and they're not paying for.

These same people complain about manners and attitude (not mine, I hasten to add. I am the model of good customer service, honest) in others. But surely their overinflated egos are trampling all over their own manners.

I'm far from perfect. I had a right royal - and childish - hissy fit at Ashley earlier over his being late without telling me he was going to be (it was a miscommunication, actually, and at least 50% each one's fault). I apologised profusely, and realised in doing so that actually I was still responding to the desolate, soul-crushing panic I had experienced when my ex stood me up after I had travelled across England to see him. I don't care about my ex, and I totally trust Ashley not to stand me up without a very good reason. But it seems learned behaviours are a complete bastard to shift, and can sneak up on you and ride your arse when you least expect it (nice vision, isn't it?).

I guess when it comes down to it, I just think basic human rights are a luxury for some people, so we shouldn't make such a big deal about the luxuries we do get and just show a little patience and humanity to others. I'm teaching myself this as much as asking it of anyone else, of course.

My Latin teacher used to recite: "Patience is a virtue / possess it if you can / Seldom found in woman; / never in a man". Blatant anti-male sexism and excuses for crappiness aside - I'm definitely not one of those women.

Over and out.

I’ve long disagreed with those who say that copyright kills creativity, for I do believe that there is no scarcity of inspiration. But I now understand their position better. I also have learned that when creations are restricted it is the creator who suffers more because his creation won’t find its full and true public its spark finds no kindling and the fire dies. The creative class, copyright, mass media, and curmudgeonly critics stop what should be a continuing process of creation; like reverse alchemists, they turn abundance into scarcity, gold into lead.

From Buzzmachine

Dear L,

Nobody's perfect. All of us look at our outside sometimes and think "ugh - look at that flab" or "yeesh, is that a wrinkle?". Not everyone can examine every inch of themselves with pride and pronounce themselves 100% perfect.

When I was little I wanted to grow up to be... someone else. I wanted to be slim and toned and have green eyes and thick, raven (or possibly red) hair. I hated exercise and ate too much, so the first aim was out. The green eyes were something of an impossibility without contacts and my hair remains resolutely chocolate brown and very thin and flossy. If I could change the texture, I would, but I've grown to like the colour.

I also loathed, loathed, loathed my nose. I'm still not too keen on it. It's fine when I have my specs on but there's this big ol' bump on it that's really visible when I don't. I am dreading the wedding pictures. I'd have surgery on it (and expensive dental work on the crooked tooth) if I wasn't scared of the potential disaster. What if they botch it and I end with Liam Neeson's hooter? (Looks great on Liam Neeson, I hasten to add). With the tooth I'm just scared of the pain.

Also, Ashley has reacted with some distress. He loves my nose, prodding it delightedly and announcing with no small measure of admiring pride that I "have a big nose!". He calls it "multifunctional" and squeezes the tip with glee. He also thinks that if I fixed my teeth my "adorable" mokus (squirrel) face would no longer be as cute. I never thought it was cute.

That's my point. You cannot demand from people that they hate you as much as you hate yourself. You cannot predict what someone else will like. You say that there simply is no-one anywhere that could like you and then push them away because you don't like you. It's a common problem, but it breaks my heart because I know the pain of it and I know how fabulous you are.

I'm not going to lie - some people won't find you attractive. Because if everyone fancied everyone else then... well, then everyone would be having a lot more sex and monogamy would probably be dead in the water. But they just don't, and I don't think you want everyone to fancy you. Think of the havoc it would play with your time!

But some people will. Not only that, they do. Every week, every month, every year, you come across people who like you, inside and out, and you either don't notice or they don't tell you or there's nothing they can do about it, but it happens all the time.

You are the only person who cannot see you from the outside. And therefore you are the last person who gets to judge whether you're outwardly attractive or not. You don't even need to care about it - you just need to care about whether you're healthy (all that exercise! How could you not be?! And a vegan diet to boot) and if you're doing at least some of the things you'd like to.

That second one is bloody difficult for everyone, but only you can address it. I couldn't possibly judge, and wouldn't want to.

You've told me before that "if you were only thin" or "if you only had a boyfriend" it would solve everything. It doesn't. At least once a month, Ashley has to swallow his frustration and help pull me out of a quagmire of misery when I just can't seem to count my (many) blessings. There's no outward cure to anger, frustration, depression and self-loathing - there is only getting the idea in your head that you are worthwhile and then repeating it to yourself in a variety of different ways until it sinks in a little further each time. It's hard fucking work and the results can be a long time coming. But it's the only way.

"If only" is the worst thing we could do to ourselves. I'm not telling you things I haven't said to myself and I don't always take my own advice. I wouldn't even load my (unasked for) ideas on you if I didn't love you very much indeed and just want to see you happy in yourself.

You're one of the oldest, closest and most intelligent, loving friends I have. I would smack anyone else who said horrible things about you, so I'm choosing to smack your self-esteem goblins instead.

Hugs, love and a listening ear,

Alex

xxx

As someone whose relationship history can only be summed up as 'crap' until December 12th 2006, I sometimes find myself being reminded of just how much I've gained by being in a decent relationship. And just how much I didn't know I was missing by trying to be everything to everyone else and failing to speak up for myself.

When I was at Shiny, I left the house half an hour after Ash in the morning. I got used to my peaceful little lie-in as he pottered around having his grapefruit (ugh), cereal, toast breakfast and watering the plants. Since my career 'went to the dogs' (ho ho ho) and we leave together, I've lost that quiet time.

Ash will wake up wanting to snuggle, kiss, talk and make squirrel faces. Oh woe is me, right? But I'm very, very slow to respond in the morning so ended up worrying he thought I was rejecting his affection when actually I was perfectly happy to cuddle- just in a very quiet, still way.

Two years ago, I would have just kept it to myself. But this is Ash - I love him, so I'm honest with him. Not only was he not hurt, but this morning he complied with a very quiet, very peaceful and truly wonderful hug that made it so much easier to blink awake and stumble around bleary-eyed.

I know it's not something you'd think anyone would have trouble talking about. But I would have - I would have been worried about being misinterpreted, or causing my other half to pull away completely, or being dumped for not being exactly what he wanted me to be. But the thing about loving someone is that you learn to respect their intelligence and ability to understand you. And the thing about loving yourself (and knowing they love you) is that you learn to respect your own intelligence and ability to communicate clearly.

Then he decided to get up earlier than usual and I got an extra fifteen minutes to myself. And while the quiet time was nice enough, I missed him.

It's been a schizophrenic few days. The balance of dealing with Internet mentalists and yet at the same time having the work I've done over the last few months being positively recognised by peer publications has been a heady one. Mainly I've decided to enjoy the good and use the bad as an impetus to hit the gym or, failing that much energy, at least go for a brisk walk at lunchtime to clear my head.

Wedding plans are now basically under control. The bridesmaids dresses are the main issue left, with various quotes from dressmakers littering my notebooks; I'm still waiting to hear from the most likely party. £90 from one (minus materials) but I can't call her until October. £160 (including materials) from another - eek! £200-£300 from a third - say what?! One of my bridesmaids helpfully and supportingly labelled the colour I'd chosen as 'shit brown' so I know she's never going to wear hers again anyway, so what do I care if they're completely perfect? Truth is, I don't. I want the women themselves to be comfortable and feel happy about their appearance. Beyond that, it's only so much excess frippery. My mother-in-law is slightly worried about the little girls but I am sure that decent flower girl dresses will be found.

Also the hairdresser hasn't got back to me yet but then I did take an age to reply to her last email. You get what you give.

And I have to call the florist...

Other than that, photographer, food, wedding dress, cake, etc are all go. We do have to find a free date for the rabbi and priest to meet, as the priest is travelling a great deal this summer and isn't around for much time before the wedding. They want to discuss our expectations and construct a beautiful blessing for us, which I'm really very excited about. I dare say that at least will be unique to us. Not that I care about being unique - I just want everything to mean something to both of us.

Speaking of which, we still don't have a first dance or even mutually adored song that is even vaguely wedding-appropriate. Suggestions could not possibly hurt...

 Meanwhile we schlepped down to Southend-on-Sea last night to attend a shiva - my second. Prayers were lengthy and conducted by a very sweet and earnest young Rabbi who explained the significance of the Kaddish and how it is more valuable an expression of faith even than the Shema. "Because you are saying at this most difficult time that Hashem knows best". A rather lovely thing to say, I thought. I met some more of Ash's extended family who all seemed very nice and did their best to hide their appraising looks. I was wearing my cross which probably raised a few eyebrows but if it did it happened when my back was turned, so all's well.

I'm so tired. I'm going to drag my sorry carcass to the gym to try and wake myself up at lunchtime, but I'm keeping going today only by remembering I'm catching up with lovely friends tonight. Here's hoping I don't fall asleep on the pub table.

Good things:

1. I had my appraisal and it was glowing!

2. I forgot to mention this earlier, but I'm definitely not dying of cervical cancer. In fact, I have an official printed bit of paper from my gynaecologist saying I'm 'normal'. Ha.

3. I got a twice-weekly review slot and a weekly Design Whore column on this fabulous new website that's launching on Monday.

4. Technically it was yesterday, but I met my friend's incredibly gorgeous cat. Jealous, much?

5. I'm going to the theatre with Zara tonight.

Bad things:

1. I was so useless at the gym. I huffed and puffed through about 20 minutes. Still, I'm totally out of shape so gotta start somewhere.

2. I ended up having an argument with someone about a swastika. Yes, being an ex-RE teacher I completely and utterly understand that it had benign and religious roots. I also know that the version he used was the Nazi version. And that he's wrong. As soon as he gets that, we'll all be happier.

3. My toe has swollen up thanks to the bee sting I got when a bumbling bumblebee flew into my sandals.

The balance tips in favour of Good: I accept this with something approaching serenity. Maybe.

...and this is what I thought of what I saw.

I'll be there for you... when I feel like it

In fact, I don't hate Ashley's friends. At all. Most of them I have a pretty good relationship with and at least one I think I missed more than Ashley did when we went on holiday. Between them they have the kind of relationship where you ring up for a chat whenever that I've sort of lost with quite a few of my friends (not that I don't appreciate some forward planning) and a warmth and understanding between them which is admirable.

And I don't even hate HER. I feel sorry for her, feel peeved by her attitude and dislike the way she manipulates Ashley. But I appreciate Ashley is responsible for allowing himself to be manipulated and I simply don't have it in me to really hate.

The Secret History

SHE is an old friend of Ashley's from around ten years back. They were, at one point, fuckbuddies and this sort of kind of did or didn't drift into a relationship. Ashley says he never counted it as one and they both dated other people. SHE announced proudly to me when I first met her (nervous, outnumbered on her home turf) that she had turned Ash from a crap car driving mamma's boy into the boy I was going out with and it was all credit due to her. Mhm. Sure.

Anyway, SHE moved to New York before I really appeared on the scene, and yet even from there managed to create an uncomfortable situation between Ashley and a friend, E, when SHE claimed said friend was annoyed at us for being too coupley (on that occasion, we really weren't). E denied ever having thought twice about it.

None the less, we somehow managed to get on. Then, when Ash and I moved in, SHE created a huge song and dance over me removing him from his family and friends (by suggesting we get a flat nearer my neck of the woods, a whole 20 minutes' drive away from where he was before and continues to work). All that SHE predicted - Ashley's loss of independence and personality -has yet to come to pass eight months later. We had a clash, and I was temporarily furious with Ashley for making a ham-fisted job of defending me. But back then a lot was happening at once and I actually don't blame him for his slight helplessness and have put that incident behind us.

We continued to, in a way, get on. SHE continued to interject her unasked for opinion on everything in our lives from when we have the wedding to where we're going on honeymoon. Then SHE had a falling out with Ash's closest friend, D, over the fact that SHE thought it completely normal to expect him to leave his wife with friends in the city and come up to Albany to see her alone. Why? Because SHE had never really liked his wife. After the inevitable argument, SHE insisted that her point of view and lifestyle weren't being respected. Despite basically thinking SHE was wrong, I stayed out of it and we somehow managed to continue to get along.

Ashley then went through a phase of being a crap friend. No buts - he was rubbish. So he decided to ring up and make amends, and made plans to see her yesterday when SHE was in the UK for a brief period. Later SHE announced that her plans were that Ash should pick her up, ferry her to her gran's in Southgate and then come back to West Hampstead to meet with me and another friend (E, the same one she tried to convince us was angry at our couplyness) for dinner. I rather baulked at this request as Ash doesn't know her grandmother and it was a rather girlfriend like request. Still, I opted to stay out of it. Ashley wasn't keen on this turn of events, being a baffled as to why I was excluded, but decided to go ahead with it.

Yesterday:

12:00pm - SHE rings to say she'll go to gran's alone, and we'll meet for dinner in W. Hampstead at 6:30
6:25pm - SHE rings, when we've just arrived at the restaurant, to say her gran wanted to see her for a bit longer, so she's still there and will be an hour and a half late, so Ash should come and pick her up. He explains he has his car (2 seater), so SHE says, in that case, two hours.

Now, this is how Ashley tells it. SHE claims she said 'up to' that long and was actually back within half an hour.

Ashley was incandescent. Not only was he enraged at the lack of forethought in calling so late, he felt like he was being treated as a taxi driver. (He later received a message from her when she was on her way back saying 'come and pick me up' again - this time from a local station. Not asking - telling).

We had some dinner and he was shaking, jaw set. It takes an awful lot to make him angry, but this did it. We went to see D, who was unsurprised. D later called E about something else and discovered E had expected to still meet us there and felt stood up. We didn't know - which is why we left, we'd never have been so rude otherwise - but E's upset is my only regret in all this. Still, I don't believe E was that upset - or upset for the reasons she now states - until SHE convinced her to be.

Honesty Kills

The fact is, I was glad to be rid of her. SHE has since called up and - in an unprecedented move - apologised to Ash. Of course, she's apologised with about fourteen qualifications, so it means nothing.

I'm not sorry he accepted the apology - I have enormous admiration for people who show forgiveness and understanding - but I am sorry SHE is back in our lives. I've had to take the step of saying that I want nothing more to do with her ever, under any circumstances (so she'll finally get him alone - yay her!). I know this seems manipulative, but I really don't want to come between them.

I just think her peremptory and arrogant behaviour sucks. SHE claims she has a 'long list' of male friends who have deserted her after becoming part of a couple, but instead of blaming me and the relationship can she consider that if it's a long list SHE is to blame, not all of them? You can't be clingy and divisive with one half of a couple, pushing their other half out and being secretive and then expect not to eventually be excluded yourself.