It's the Final Countdown...

It's been nearly a year since I started this blog and I can honestly say it's been the worst year of my life.  I had no idea it was going to turn out so badly when I started, I thought January was a bit of a glitch.  I thought 2007 was the worst year; I lost my Gran and Grandad, my safety net and lifeline, and realised how tough the real world is having left the safety of full time education.  It's been one hell of a journey.  Now I'm sat here in a completely different house (it's not my house, it's a temporary, but very comfortable, shelter I'm sharing for a few nights), but everything else is exactly the same: same clothes, same job, same laptop, same phone sat next to me and I'm still alone, it's exactly the same a whole year on.

There's something positive glittering on the horizon at the minute.  I feel like I've gone back 6 years and I've just left university (again) and I have no where to live (again) and no direction to go in (again), but while job hunting I came across a position in Malaysia.  After two days of weighing pros and cons, I decided to apply for it - I didn't get it - but the point is, I applied for it.  I realised that while I have no ties here anymore, I have no ties here anymore, I'm free to go wherever I like and I might never be this free again.  It's a strange thing to get excited about, but it's still a valid point.

Last year I set myself some resolutions and, bizarrely, I achieved them, so now I'm going to set myself some more.  It's a bit early, but so were the last ones.

• Get a part-time bar job: I need to get out and meet people that aren't the children I teach (or their parents).
• Get mortgage advice and house hunt.
• Find out where I want to live: Do this before the last one!
• Spend more time with friends.
• Join an Am-Dram / theatre club.

I figured I can't change the things I really want to: make Mum better, stop SLT making my life hell, meet the man of my dreams (who doesn't sleep with my friends), fix my ankle, make Mr Barman and Mikey happier, etc, but I can better the ratio of good:bad, hopefully this will make life a little more manageable.

Staying on the positive note that this bottle of whiskey has brought me to, I'll review bits and pieces.  I've not heard anything from JP since the night I told him I never wanted to see him again.  I've walked past his work three times without fear of him suddenly appearing on the pavement and I can say 'my ex slept with the bridesmaid at my friend's wedding' without being sick.  I rarely think about him anymore, it's such a nice feeling.  I'm not sad about missing him and I know I don't want him back.  I thought about what would happen if I saw him again and my mind drifted off onto what I wanted for dinner; that lack of focus has to be a good thing, right?  The only thing I worry about is how I treat my next boyfriend.  I've been out with a few guys since then, but nothing has ever really happened and it's never gone past a few dates (and one very drunken thai meal and even then it only involved drunken snogging - I don't even remember it!).  I think it's going to take someone very patient to put up with me and my neurotic panic attacks - I'm not even going to think about what will happen when someone says they love me again...

I don't have to see my x-flatmate's boyfriend all the time, everyday, when I get up in the morning, when I come in from work and when I get a drink in the middle of the night.  I also don't have to worry about him wandering around the flat in my towel (and nothing else) or bumping into my sister in the same state.  Although I'm between houses/flats/sofa's/spare rooms, I only have to put up with the people I choose to (thankfully I also like their partners).

I've got so many projects on the go at work and so much I need to do and so many impossible targets to hit, but as long as I've got other things in my life, I think it'll be fine.  Sometimes I get so sucked into work I forget there's a world outside.  I don't want to be someone who lives to work.  When I love work it's ok, but when work hits the fan, not so much.  I need a balance, and I don't mean laptop in one hand, latte in the other!

So, here's to 2012, or at least to the final month of 2011.  It must get better - the understanding being that it certainly can't get any worse.  It really is the final countdown...

Everyone's Got an Opinion!

And so we are to strike again! This time I have to make the decision; last time my union decided against it, so I went in regardless, whereas this time I get to actually state "I do not agree with strike action!"  The fact is, I don't and I never have.  Everyone has an opinion about people who strike, but I'm pretty firm on my belief that it's the individual's decision.  I agree with action short of strike, but I really feel that the wrong people suffer in a strike.  The opposing view is that the situation is so bad, we need strong action to show Government we are serious.  This I also agree with, but not as much as I agree with my previous statement.

When I say I am a teacher everyone asks if I'm striking. My reply is never greeted with 'good for you' or 'ah yes, I completely understand'.  It's always along the lines of 'you're wrong'.  It doesn't seem to matter whether my answer is yes or no, we're always wrong.

Before you make a judgement on people who strike, particularly teachers, give yourself an insight into the truth of teaching.  Volunteer as an LSA for a day in your local school, go and help run RAG Week, go and help backstage at the school play or help run an after school club.  If you can't do any of these, read the book by Charlie Carroll.  By the end of it, you'll be a lot more willing to listen to the reasons why we do what we do.

The Comedy of Teenage Body Language!

The comedy of watching teenagers hug. It's like they're from an alien planet and learnt the skill via youtube: it's exactly the same every time and they have a complete dislike to human contact.  It makes me wonder why they bother.

I'm currently sat having coffee and waiting for a friend, I'm people-watching and writing this - that is, after all, the only reasonable thing to do while waiting for someone!

So, the hug. You've all seen it and it goes like this...  Two people meet, they exchange the same 'hi-iy' in that up/down tone of voice that suggests surprise despite the fact that they arranged the meeting.  They stand at a respectable distance and linger just a little bit too long that they become suddenly aware of their bodies (please note: adults don't linger and so the hug naturally falls into place, this can lead to too little awkwardness, but that's another story). She will then tuck her hands into her sleeves and raise her arms, wrists pointing forward, while not moving, it is the other person's job to guage the distance; tricky because you don't know whether to go for a full-body hug or just an arm hug. And so comes the actual contact. The other person moves in taking the first person by surprise, who actually steps away, this results in a full-upper-body hug with their feet miles apart! This incredibly awkward encounter usually lasts just seconds before they spring apart and carry on on their merry ways.  If it weren't for the friendly 'hi-iy' at the beginning, you'd assume they were arch enemies trying to 'out-nice' each other (you know 'out-nice, we've all been there - you meet your ex's new girlfriend and you have to appear completely cool and fabulous so you try to out-nice her, this also works with the girl you hate in front of mutual friends; heaven forbid you should be the awkward one).

The body language of teenagers makes me love my job. I spend hours everyday with the strange hormonal specie and I've made body language my life's study! So many times I think about my own awkward hugs/handshakes or worse - both! With the unfortunate result of stabbing your friend in the stomach as they went for a hug and you went for a handshake... Definitely more of a male problem, but I've done it too!

So next time you start complaining about teenagers hanging around town centres, watch how they hug - it's so entraining!

I'm not Wonder Woman!

How many times have you wanted to escape to the bottom of the garden and disappear inside your imagination? This is something I have wanted to do throughout my entire life. I doubt I was the only 7 year old that wandered around wardrobes looking for Narnia, but I'm probably the only 26 year old who still does it.

Being a PE teacher with a broken ankle that needs operating on, who's had to move home after going broke to live with a parent she never really got on with, is not an ideal situation for anyone. I'd love to run back to Liverpool and drink during the week while playing my guitar to adoring (albeit very drunk) fans in my favourite pub again. I loved those years, but running away with your teddy and a spare pair of pants isn't an option when you're a grown up.  Try telling that to my over emotional sister.  A year ago we had lots of long talks about how she over-analyses and over-reacts to basic situations (ie 'would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?' translates into 'I don't like you, but I feel I have to invite you over and if you don't accept my hostile yet superficially nice invitation, I will hate you forever'), this would make sense if it were a text from a serial killer, but not when it's from your Father!  She was worried she was losing her tenuous grip on reality and she asked for my help. I told her to see someone who could help her and talk her through her anxieties. She never did, yet she kept asking my advice and, surprisingly, it never changed. She then threw me into the middle of situations to sort them out for her (ie Dad asking what he's done to upset her and me explaining he's done nothing, then her screaming and crying at him and me explaining 'she's not in a good way right now'). Now she's decided that we're all bullying her and she needs time on her own to sort her head out. While I would certainly agree with this, it is after all what I told her to do a year ago, we have been forbidden to contact her - a message that, ironically, came from our Dad. Having put me in the middle for so long and having had to clear up so many of her messes over the years, I'm now told I'm being awful to her and I must not contact her! I'm a little upset by this. Dear Father's reaction was 'your little sister isn't coping and she needs some time to sort herself out' - yes, that would be the little sister who is 5years older than me, the one I've looked after since I was 6. He then said 'I've got my own problems too' and unleashed the latest crisis in his life. It's tough when you realise your parents aren't indestructible superhero's, but when did they make me one instead?  He said I'm stronger than her and I cope better with life - he's clearly never come across this blog! What my sister fails to realise is that we already have one sister who refuses to speak to me (2years ago we had an argument, she beat the hell out of me and still refuses to answer my calls/texts/cards/emails etc, even though she has made up with the rest of the family), so her forbidding contact as well is going to have a bit of an effect on me.

When I was 18 I ran away from home. I was having all sorts of problems with family, abusive relationships, parents divorce, sister's divorce, life as we know it ending and to top it off I had a miscarriage (no one knew about the pregnancy so why tell anyone about the miscarriage). I found a university miles away where no one knew me and I ran as fast as my little Vauxhall Corsa could carry me. The difference between this and my sister's decision to 'run away' (from us), is that I was 18 she's 31, but more importantly, no one knew I was running away. Still no one knows I ran away. I have a responsibility to my family and friends to not make them feel like sh*t by revealing my life was so awful I left them all. I didn't and still don't want them to know the reason I moved to Liverpool was to get away from everything that reminded me how much I'd messed up, including them. I got my head together and three years later came home with a degree - it was a brilliant disguise. My sister does not have the same responsibility. I feel like I've pushed her over the edge when all I did was invite her for coffee. I feel like I've caused her endless sleepless nights, put her on medication and left her a jibbering wreck! Right or wrong, I feel guilty for not helping her... But I tried to. A year ago I tried to help her and I've been trying ever since. Maybe I tried too hard and pushed her the other way. I don't know and I never will because she doesn't want me around right now. I'm so angry at her selfishness and her stupidity and her lack of emotional stability and I feel guilty for that too. Who the hell am I to be angry at her when she's suffering?

Yet I'm the one picking up the pieces: talking and listening to Mum so that she stops crying, listening to Dad about his crisis, putting my other sister back together and reassuring her she's done nothing wrong, trying not to drive myself mad with the knowledge that I've not seen my three nephews for 2 years (oh and trying not to get fired or put on long term sick because of my ankle). I know I'm strong, but I'm not Wonder Woman!