Ramblings with the Bearded One

As I walk round the corner I instantly spot the beard and the camera, and wave. I'm on a rare weekend away with my sister and close friend at a music festival just a few miles from Kim, of Ramblings of the Bearded One

Kim was the first 'real' person I connected with outside of our blogging worlds and personas. To be so nearby and not get in touch would have been daft, but taking the step of actually arranging to meet made me nervous. Here was someone who'd read my secrets and pain, and offered his kind words when things were falling to pieces around me.

I found Kim through Blogs of Note a couple of years ago and have been reading ever since. There was something very human and honest about his writing. He didn't seem to be trying to impress or seek glory or a place in history. I liked his writing, sometimes sad, often funny. He always gives me cause to reflect.

I wandered over and we sat down against the outside of the children's marquee where he's due to play his bouzouki. Nervously I have a cigarette, which I realise later was wholly inappropriate given the area of the site we're in. Anyway....skipping quickly over that misdemeanour....

Kim is easy company and I am fascinated by the man whose words I have read and responded to over what must be about three years. As two bloggers writing in Scotland it's easy to forget that, in fact, he is not a Scot. Gently spoken, Kim is good to talk with. I suppose, as a photographer, he's very used to putting slightly anxious people at their ease. We wander and rattle through blogging, and family stuff, living with fatigue, mental health, and the weirdness and wonderfulness of life.

This meeting for me is important. Blogging has helped me reconcile what goes on in my inner world with what goes on around me. It's helped me talk about the things that scare me or have made me sad. It's helped me to be vulnerable and honest. Meeting someone who found my blog early on, and probably knows more of my struggles over the past few years than some of my oldest friends, is a massive step in realising that I am finally opening up to the world. This meeting is something that couldn't, wouldn't have happened even a year ago.

A while ago I helped Kim with a press release for his Staring Back exhibition. It was an easy thing to do, that I'd completely forgotten about. Kim reminded me that he'd promised me a photo as a thank you if we ever met. Later that afternoon I found myself squinting in the sunshine, surrounded by thousands of people, having a camera pointed at me. Kim the photographer is suddenly present – joking and directing and trying to put me at my ease.

I am grateful for the kindness he's shown me through difficult times, and pleased to find a man who demonstrates the integrity, humour and thoughtfulness that his writing suggests. I am flattered that he introduces me to someone as 'an old friend', and I guess we were are despite never having met before. I am glad we did, and hope we do again soon. Next time, with instruments and tunes and time.

Thank you Kim for listening and for my picture.

PS Just in case you're wondering if Scruffy Buzzards are any good, I am happy to report that they were excellent!

Bombarded by Junk - A question

My Blog's reading list has been plagued by spam recently and it's put me off being here quite so often.

It's very sad as the blog concerned was beautiful, thoughtful, clever: a recommendation from Kim Ayres over at Ramblings of the Bearded One. The blogger died. It was weirdly shocking, but those words were still there.

Recently it appeared back in the list of posts and, unsurprisingly curious, I clicked the link to it. Since then I have been bombarded. I tried to remove it from my reading list, reported it the Blogger etc. I've done all the recommended things I could find in the help section and still my reading list is bombarded with junk.

Any ideas anyone? I don't want to be irritated by this place that has become a fundamental part of my week. All suggestions would be very much appreciated.

The World Over

Although I've had a site meter gadget installed on my blog for a long time now, I don't look at it as often as I might. It's only the introduction of blogger's stats page that's highlighted recently where most of my visitors come from.

In the last month I've had visitors from Russia, Afghanistan, Congo, Spain, Canada and so on. It amazes me that people stop by from the world over.

I have two people to thank for bringing the majority of visitors here.

First of all there's Kim Ayres who listed me amongst the blogs he follows. I love his list, it's like a library to be dipped in and out of. There's always someone with something interesting to say. Kim himself writes beautifully on a diverse range of subjects and shares his photography over at Ramblings of the Bearded One.

And secondly there is Charles C. Finn. A poet, and someone I know nothing about! But other folk must do, as his words are the highest source of traffic because I once quoted him in a post. You can read the whole piece here. I often wonder what is going through the minds of those who search the internet with these words.
 
Thanks to all who do for stopping by. I amazed and humbled by the corners of the world that gather here from time to time.

Trust: Reality and Blogging again

I've always written this anonymously. It's a private diary: a recording of days, feelings and memories that make up my journey. Part of me needs an outlet, writing lets me figure out what is going on in my head, to process , make decisions and find my voice. The other part of me wants to mark my way, like Hansel and Gretel dropping pebbles to leave a trail The path from here to there.


There are people who I've never met who have read my thoughts and moved on, others stop by leaving their words and drawing me into a community of sorts.

There are a few people in my real world who know how to find this place, none where I live. Three of them are amongst my closest girlfriends, and they are abroad, and I know won't judge. Two others I shared this with on a whim. One, an ex boyfriend, has read perhaps more than he'd like about himself over the months. Another is new and I've yet to discover if he'll ever stop by, remember how to find me here or keep this trust. Can he keep my secret? It makes me nervous. However, I must remember that this place is important to me, and mostly of little interest to others.

Sharing my blog presents two risks;

1.Someone will read about themselves and be unhappy. Some people would not want these stories told or like what they read. But, it's my place and my thoughts and I won't tailor events to suit the sensitivities of the reader. I need to do this.

2.By allowing in people I know in flesh and bone, I risk other people from my everyday life finding what is here – my secrets, anger or sadnesses. Is that so bad? Or, would I find myself editing the things I most need to scribble about? It takes things dangerously close to reality, and equally enables some folk to see the real person. Sometimes happy, sometimes reflective, sometimes angry and venting.
I don't trust so easily and sharing this takes me one step closer to opening up and showing the world who I am. Trust inherently involves risk, and it's something I need to learn to do. I want to be able to trust enough to continue to write freely.

It makes me feel very vulnerable.

Normal service resumes

First of all, it's reassuring to know that people are interested enough in my ramblings to stop by. More importantly they're kind enough to take the trouble to let me know when things have gone awry!

A big thank you to Kim and Vextasy for flagging up my blog's technical issues which I managed to solve as much by accident than by design.....offers of help were greatly appreciated also,

V

What is a blog?

I seems that it can be many things. An advert, a website alternative, a recipe book, a forum, sports pages, a travel journal, a community, a diary, a world apart from reality.

I have two. One for work: cheaper and easier to maintian and navigate than a website. Something obligatory for the self employed person that I am. Focussed and practical. A necessary chore. A yellow pages entry alternative for today's Google generation.

The other? It is other. It is a diary, or the closet to it I have ever succeeded in keeping. It my voice. It is this. A voice with no regard for a 'target audience'. There isn't one. It is just me. And those who choose to share with me.

It is disjointed and personal. I appreciate those who do read, I learn from you all. It makes me focus my voice, to try and make a point, encourages me to keep recording my journey. It enables me to process the things in my head and my life I'm struggling with. It allows me to remember my father while Alzheimer's destroys him and record the moments of joy, in order that, on dark days, I can remind myself there is more.

It has brought me to a world where others share. I have learned more than many books could teach me of people and experineces. It is sometimes voyeuristic. It is very often a priveleged glimpse into the lives of people I will never meet but come to know in a different way.

I wish I could write long hand in beautiful notebooks. I've tried and failed. I scribble if I need to vent when I am laptop-less in any old notebook that comes to hand. But this? It works for me.


Thank you to all those who read and share your tales, factual or fictitious, with us here. A virtual dashboard bringing us together in one place and making sense of the maze. What does your blog mean for you? Has it become what you expected or something else altogether?

Award and some blog thinking....

This blogging thing is a funny old game. There are a number of reasons why;

1.I never knew where I'd go with this, or what I wanted from it. I still don't. I do know that it is a place I now value for words I may have nowhere else to put

2.I feel like part of a community. Albeit a virtual one. People share their thoughts and hopes and fears, and support mine through constructive criticism, humour and kinds words. I know I'm not alone on whatever road I'm travelling. I don't even know some of your names, but value your participation nonetheless. I guess you don't know mine either....

3.This space has enabled me to communicate and share some of myself with a select few people who know me in the real world. Hopefully they see a more whole me or a me that would never initiate a conversation about some of the things I scribble about because they just don't come up in every day, catch up conversation.

4.I like it. It didn't know I would. I am surprised.

For all of these reasons, and many more I'm delighted that you keep reading. I'm even more pleased that recently a couple of you have chosen to show your support with blogging awards. McCaffery33, I've already said thanks, but thanks again for this;

Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass the award on to five most deserving blogger.


-Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and the name of the blog from whom s/he has received the award.

-Each Superior Scribbler must display the award on his/her blog, and link to The Scholastic Scribe, which explains the award. http://scholastic-scribe.blogspot.com/2008/10/200-this-blings-for-you.html

-Each blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr Linky List. That way, they'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honour.

I also understand I am to:
Notify winners of award with comment on their blog.
 
I'm still catching up with myself afte a lovely break so will pass on in due course....and some thinking....
 
In the meantime check out Ponderings and Other Stuff at http://mccaffery33.blogspot.com/ for some real honesty and insight

Marooned in Marrakech

I guess this will be the first of a string of ramblings from Morcco. Courtesy of a series of other people's inefficiencies we're stuck in Marrakech when I should have reached Spain and my flight home today. Lucy, the beautiful 1974 VW camper van, is still in the garage.


It's been an unexpected week in this city of contrasts, and in many ways blessed, although a little frustraing. Worse for my companion than me. I wish I could fix it but I can only sit back and offer what small words of comfort I can and distract as much as possible.

I have now rescued my laptop from the van. Not writitng has made me realise the place it has in my life and the space I need to let things out and away.

A little bit of fun and a pleasant surprise

'Always A Mom' Thank you for this award. I very much appreciate you stopping by and taking the time to read, and for thinking of me when passing on this lovely addition.

So, for a more light-hearted post than usual....






A few simple rules apply to the recipients of this award.

1.Thank the person who gave you the award.
2.Copy the Award.
3.Post it in your blog.
4. Tell Us 7 things that your readers don't know.
5. Link 7 new bloggers as recipients.
6. Notify winners of award with comment on their blog.
7. Keep being Awesome.


Some things you don't know about me;

1.I very often talk too much, and say too little

2.When I was a kid, I was obsessed by Sherlock Holmes, and had a particular love of the old black and white films of the books starring Basil Rathbone

3.I sleep with my toes crossed and interlinked....don't ask me how!

4.If I could retrain and do anything else, I would like to reupholster and restore furniture

5.I love Russian art and literature, particularly from the late 19th and early 20th century

6.I had to have a nose job three years ago, a year after someone opened a shop door into my face. My nose no longer has the hump I was born with so i'm retrospectively grateful to the drunk student who caused the damage

7.It is likely that I will develop breast cancer at some point in my life, and lose one of two parts of my body I actually like. The other is my hands. Funny that both things come in pairs.
 
Anyway I shall ponder who to pass this on to. In the meantime, I am grateful that some people take the time to read what I scribble. I am surpised that my blog has now been read in eight countries, on five continents but I only have four followers - how does that figure? I know who some of you are, as you've chosen to follow. I would love it if others leave a comment, follow or just say 'hello'. Thanks again for reading and sharing, and allowing me to share in your thoughts - joyous, insightful, dark or otherwise.

Always a Mom can be found at http://llmoore2.blogspot.com/

An introduction

Some time ago I explained my reasons for writing here. My blog is anonymous to all, apart from the friend who's been mentioned here previously. It is a space for thoughts I have nowhere else to put or struggle to say out loud. It is a diary of sorts and a world apart from reality.

Somewhere along the lines I became a person who performed for those around me. I learned to conform to expectations, learned to please, and hid myself away. I felt like a fraud.

After crumbling last year, I started counselling to help me sort through the quagmire of broken bits. I could never have anticipated the journey that process began. It was a journey that started with external influences on my life, and then turned inwards. Through turning inwards, I am beginning to learn to share what I found there. I'm learning to give a bit of myself, take risks with my emotions and let people see the 'weak' version of me. The two selves may emerge one day as a whole, mask removed and integrity in place. I hope so. I'm trying.

A conversation has made me want to share a little of the external self here too, and give this a context.

In real life I work in the not for profit sector. I am privileged to work in a world of passionate and committed people who really do believe they can change the world bit by bit (so do I).

I am an outspoken, clever, compassionate girl with good friends. I am active and busy. I volunteer. I play the fiddle. I have fun and interesting times.

All sounds a bit conceited. The next bit? Sentimental, trite perhaps.

But, I'm a bit like a three legged dog. I live life and pursue my career reasonably well, but I often stumble. I am inhibited by the part of me that is more present in these pages than the everyday me. They are both real and true, but quite different. The scared, vulnerable, hurt me is here without the façade.

Not embracing the blogging 'me' has caused me to damage many things. I am a procrastinator as I'm scared of success/failure. I argue over things that are seemingly insignificant because a button has been pushed by someone to whom it is invisible and fires up things in me that are terrified. I run from emotional intimacy because I'm scared that if someone truly knows me they will dislike what's on the inside and on, and on, and on....

I am doing the best I can to reconcile the two. I will get there. I could not continue as I was. So, some days are good, some days are bad, sometimes I just want to record a moment in my day. For years I have told everyone what I thought, not how I feel. It is time for this to change. These pages are part of my journey.

I neither need nor seek pity or praise, just somewhere to explore.

One day, I would like to learn to write.

Too much noise

I'm never sure what I should do with so many of my thoughts. Where should I put them? Where do they come from? I just sometimes want some peace from my own head. I just want to feel safe. And loved. And calm. Just a little bit of quiet.

I don't trust many of those thoughts. I have sabotaged myself so often that I worry about which I should ignore and which I should listen to. In many ways I know myself well, and sometimes I think I don't know myself at all.

Once a thought plants itself and grows roots, I can't let it go. Each day or week something gets stuck in my head that dominates all other thinking and gets in the way. I would like to be able to choose. Do we all do this? I don't know. I don't like it.

Today I am distracted, absent. The thundercloud is present and I have behaved like a bitch.

I went for coffee with a man who I had a reasonably successful date with a few weeks ago, but had decided I didn't want to see again. We had an evening of interesting discussion, and of talking music, and laughing a little. He is intelligent, tall and creative but something about him was missing. I wasn't attracted to him. I am attracted to his beautiful photography, not to the man.

I did the decent thing and told him afterwards that I didn't think there was enough of a 'spark' for me. The dater's euphemism for 'I don't fancy you'. He had emailed telling me how wonderful I was. It made me uneasy. A couple of weeks passed and, bravely or stupidly, he asked me out again. I agreed to see him because I felt bad. A very poor reason for going on a date. I'm supposed to be focussing on what's good for me, on emotional integrity in my actions, and learning not to do things because they are what other people want. This situation is one where I've not been so successful. Self sacrifice in action. Marvellous.

Today was the day. I didn't want to go, because I knew it might mean having to through all the polite declining all over again. Last night I had some friends round for dinner, so this morning I was tired, fuzzy headed and not much in the mood for being beguiling, witty or even just a little attentive to a near stranger.

I struggled to make any kind of reasonable conversation, he made an effort. I apologised for being on bad from at the start. Less than an hour in I had to make my excuses and leave. He deserved better. He deserved someone to make an effort for him.

Do I now email and apologise for being useless and agree to see him again or do I just let it go? Is this now the thought that will occupy me for the next few days?

It seems that my scribblings of late have been quite focussed on men, and my questions about relationships. I trust this phase will pass as I don't want this place to become some low rent, Bridget Jones style rambling about the woes of a single girl. If it does, shoot me. There are enough women despairing of their single lives and spewing forth on the subject already.

I am lodger free for the first time in six months, and feeling weird about being home alone again. I should be excited about being able to be naked, play the fiddle, make mess, or live tidily, bathe endlessly, instead I am a little jumpy.

Friends indeed

The strange gift that comes with having crumbled is that one becomes far more aware of the signs in others, and you recognise those who have come through the other side.


I have a very good friend who is coming apart at the seams. Sadly, in the process she is alienating all of the people who could and have supported her this far. They only see the bad behaviour, the selfish ramblings and cancellations. Three of us, thanks to bitter experience, see her differently.

She lives at the other end of the county, so talking seriously isn't easy. When I saw her last I did let her know I had been worried about her. She brushed it off, saying that our last meeting had just been on a bad day. End of conversation. I wonder what I would have done if a friend had suggested to me a year ago that I wasn't ok and that perhaps I needed support? I imagine I would have said that I was fine, just tired. I would have been a bit angry, and denied they were right. Brave face and proud.

I want to do something but am a bit lost. Watching her fall to pieces is hard and logic seems to have gone from her relationships with friends, family or otherwise. She is alienating those close to her. She does not see it. We have spent many hours trying to think of what to do or say. She is prone to exploding and blaming. She will not let us be the friends she needs.

Perhaps the only option is to stay present and be there to catch her when she finally falls. She will fall hard.

Restless nights

For one reason or other I'd kind of let this slip for a while, but sharing it has reminded me why I started out in the first place, and has got me thinking again. Odd how small conversations can lead into a chain of thoughts.

How many millions like me are there out there? How many blogs and the words that they contain? I am fascinated by what people choose to share anonymously, publiclay shout about or quietly record whether read or not. One thing I do know is that writing these things, any things, helps me focus on the 'now'. I have, for a long time, been looking over my shoulder or wondering what's next. This at least means I turn to the present.

I am learning to enjoy and appreciate what I have, and reflect a little to recognise what's going on. Not always understanding why, but acknowledging nonetheless. It is a small and active thing. I am learning not too worry too much about tomorrow, but instead just slow down a little with fewer expectations and less concern about the views or actions of others. There is great joy in it.

Last night I dreamt about my father and my grandfather. Somewhere in the chaotic thoughts of a restless night my father was talking, walking, smiling, being a Dad. It has made me think of him as him, and not as he is now. I am glad that somewhere in the vestiges of my mind that these images and the sound of his voice are still with me. He is present still. For a moment or two, I do not need to grieve him and I had his company again.

Small steps and revelations

Last night I did something that scared me, and something important. I let someone in the real world, a friend, read what is written here. It another small step towards letting the world see who I am, truly and not the facade that is so often presented, or the person who tries to please, placate, support or give people what they want. There is an honesty in it, and my words found acceptance and support – I think. Letting people see me as I am, exposed and vulnerable, terrifies me but each time it happens I am finding my way towards a more satisfying existence.

Sometimes I wonder why I do this, blog that is. Two reasons, I guess. Firstly, an outlet for thoughts I have nowhere else to put and, secondly, to remember. I can't bear to read the diaries of my youth. They are few though. I don't own a camera. So much of my life is unrecorded and I have either forgotten how I got from one place to the next, or I look back with the proverbial rose tinted glasses or with sadness. Those perceptions of my past have an unreality. I hope, one day, I will be able to read over these words and recognise things as they actually are now and not what I thought they were looking back from a different paradigm.

Hopefully I will see myself for who I am and what I've become, and remember those who have touched my life along the way. I am blessed that they are many in number, and include some very special people. I am blessed that I am loved. I need to remind myself of that in dark days and memories, and in the happy and sad times that come along. I am no longer ashamed of myself, and trust that openness and honesty will enable me to find the intimacy and companionship I seek from friends, family and lovers. I want to give them something of me, as they allow me to see them. Small steps and revelations.

A little creativity...

I have finally figured out how to tweak the appearance of my Blog! Who knows if it'll stay this way for long. Playing with it could be fun, and frustrating. Help courtesy of some plain English at http://www.bloggerbuster.com/2008/01/cheats-guide-to-customising-blogger.html. Worth a look.

Hmmmm.....

I'm new to this world of the blog. I've read a few others regularly, dipped into many and skimmed hundreds. I love that there's no editor other than ourselves but find myself frequently disappointed in over sentimentality of quite a numer. I am scared of my blog becoming that, lacking humour or insight and being over indulgent. I will continue to read others out there and learn what I can from the most human of them. With a whole weird and wonderful world of the internet out there where does girl begin?

I'm also very curious to know what the average blogger's like....male, female, anonymous or open, motivations for being here and so on.