Tuesday, October 25, 2005

the sweet sound of silence

Sometimes I wonder if I try too hard to be something that I'm not. All my life I've thought that I had the potential to do something special, to achieve something that I can look back one day and feel proud.

I have high expectations of myself. It's why I find it impossible to take criticism. It's not that I think I'm always right, but the exact opposite. The fear and sadness that it's all true. That I'm destined to be inconsequential because I was never meant to be more. That no matter hard I try, it'll never be good enough.

I have a bit of an inferiority complex. I guess it probably goes back to my childhood. I studied hard and did everything that I thought an obedient chinese girl should do. I stayed home and babysat my brother, got good grades, helped out with the family business when I was old enough. I didn't complain and didn't expect any more than that.

I remember one night, I was working at my parents restaurant. I was helping with the washing up in the kitchen. My mum wanted me to wash up in the bar as we were busy but I was reluctant because I was embarrassed to be in view of the customers. My mum was strssed out because it was busy and her staff were being exceptionally inefficient. I was the unlucky scapegoat who got told off. She shouted at me for not helping out in the bar and told me that I shouldn't worry about the customers looking at me as I was too unattractive for them to bother about. She'll probably never remember this but I've never forgotten. Whatever anyone else might think, I don't hold it against her. That's not the reason why I've never forgotten. I just have a habit of taking things to heart and not saying anything. I guess I'm just a true follower of suffering in silence. The tragic thing is that I believed her, and I probably still do, deep down inside. My insecurity gnaws at me and I find myself giving up on myself even when no one else has.

When I was little and in junior school, I was known as the mute girl because I didn't speak. It wasn't as if I couldn't or didn't understand the language. Quite the contrary. I probably had a better grasp of the language than most of the other kids. I just didn't want to talk. My mind remained active yet my lips remained shut. At home I was fine. This didn't change until I hit 11. I realised that I was about to start secondary school and that if I didn't do something drastic, I would remain the mute girl for the whole of my life. So I did. I started talking.

Some 15 years on, I still face the same determination that I did then. That I have to change the way that I am, the way that I feel comfortable to be able to integrate with the world around me. I'm a little tired from the effort. I wish I could be me.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

I dream of Tiffany

I wonder if I was a magpie in my past life. Sitting here entranced by the shiny silver and diamonds on the Tiffany & Co website. Everything is so beautiful. If only everything could retain it's lustre and brilliance for always.

What is it about jewellery I wonder. The need to adorn ourselves with beautiful or unusual objects. Is it like the way that peacocks spread their feathers? In a ritual to attract mating partners? Or perhaps an attempt to boost our self-confidence? Diamonds are beautiful forever, not fragile and ephemeral like human beauty. I wonder if one day when I am old and wrinkled I will still crave those diamonds. When they will just be a reminder of my faded youth.

I wonder.

Monday, October 17, 2005

The Big Day

I did it!!

As the day of my 10k run loomed ever closer, I started having doubts as to whether I'd be able to make it. I totally failed to do any running at all last week, and by Friday, I'd lost all enthusiasm for it. Worst case scenario, I'd have to walk it, I thought.

Sunday morning, 8am I had to get up. I had to be at Victoria Park for 10am, 30 minutes before my wave started. I felt fine as I had some cereal and some juice to keep my strength up. However, by the time I got to the bus the nervousness and apprehension kicked in. I didn't want to let myself down. I felt bad for not having done any training during the week, even though I had taken Wednesday off work for that very purpose. Having set myself my first physical challenge, was I going to fail? Sitting on the bus going to the park, I sat quietly thinking. It was too late to change my mind about the run. I'd dragged my boyfriend early out of bed to support me, I'd made him run with me on Sundays that could have been better spent relaxing, I'd paid the fee and put in the time training myself. It was all just a matter of forming a strategy. Mind over matter, girl. I was fairly certain I was fit enough to make it.

When I got to the park, the first wave was already on their way round, presumably on their second lap. I watched them, faces set in concentration, a small army of red Nike shirts and black shorts. Wow, these guys are taking it seriously I thought.
As I approached the starting point, I could suddenly see a gigantic crowd of people in red. This must be the rest of my wave, I thought. I had no more time to worry. A voice came on over the tannoy asking wave 2 runners to go to the starting pen. I had just about enough time for a power pee before joining the rest of the crowd. I felt a sudden rush of energy and excitement. This was it! I'd waited some six weeks for this. I stared out through the railings at the spectators as I did a few stretches and waited for the gun to fire. I've been there before, I thought. On the other side of the fence watching a crowd of psyched-up crazies sacrificing a sunday morning to run around a park. It's so different on this side of the fence. Each person here has their reason for running. We're all hoping to make it in good time, our very presence giving testament to our commitment. I was hoping that I wouldn't be stretchered off twitching.

The nervous energy threatened to spill over and I started bouncing up and down. There was a loud chatter amongst the runners. Then suddenly, a countdown and off we went. Too large a crowd, we all walked until we hit the starting post and each of us then broke into a jog. It was pretty easy to get to 5k. I'd found a comfortable pace and was barely sweating. I considered my options at this point. I really wanted to make the run without stopping. I also wanted to make the run within an hour and I wasn't sure if I could manage it at that pace. I decided to wait to decide, it was still too early. I continued but picked up the pace a tiny bit. At 7k my legs had started to notice the work I was putting them through. Slowing down wasn't an option now - it was painful to slow down so I kept going. By 9k I was seriously contemplating stopping, it was a mental struggle to ignore my aching leg muscles and I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs. I really wanted to stop. I told myself off. You can't stop now. You're doing this for yourself. No one else will care if you stop, they will understand, but you won't be able to forgive yourself for not trying harder. I reminded myself that I had conquered Oblivion. This was merely feeling tired. As I have been told, I am a pretty stubborn woman and was utterly determined to make it without walking. That last kilometre seemed like 100 miles. All around me people were giving up and walking. I started running faster. Getting there faster would mean less suffering I thought.

By the time I got to the final bend and the finishing line was in sight, I pushed myself to the limit and sprinted (as much as I can sprint, being a shortarse) towards to end. I can still remember the elation that I felt as I ran that those final metres, seeing my smiling boyfriend waiting with the camera, hearing the cheering and clapping around me. The minutes that followed were a bit of a blur. My body wanted to collapse, my legs stopped going on autopilot, I absently mindedly collected a medal and went to seek water. I looked at my watch. I'd made it in under an hour. It was the icing on the cake.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

water, air, ice and white horses

Wow. Last week was definitely a week of new experiences for me. I've barely even had time to digest it all...

Tuesday I had a day off work and spent it trying to relax. I spent an hour in a floatation tank which was the most bizarre experience... I'm not even sure I found it entirely pleasant. Basically, you get into this strange capsule full of warm water. You lie back and try to relax all your muscles whilst music is played to lull you into a sort of stupor. You turn the lights out and then in my case..
- you feel like you're falling. it's hard to orientate yourself as you are floating but you cannot feel your limbs.
- some time later (it's hard to keep track of time) the pain starts. a very uncomfortable ache spreads through your neck and shoulders and lasts for seemingly ages and ages and ages
- the pain disappears and you drift in and out of a light sleep. possible snoring and twitching occurs
- more pain, this time in the lower back.
- more twitching, only this time you sort of wake up, forget you're in water and thrash about slightly. the water movement makes you bob from side to side
- start to feel a bit seasick. try desperately to ignore it
- it's hard to breathe. you wonder how long you've been in this watery box. you wonder if your feet are still there.
- the music starts playing again indicating it's time to get out. you fumble for the door button and get out.

Getting out of the capsule was uncomfortable. My body felt heavy. Firstly there is a slight relief at the fresh cool air rushing into my lungs and then the nausea came back. I was pretty glad to get out of that room although once I'd gone outside, I was aware of a sense of detachment and relaxation. It was like a good session in a sauna. I was spaced out and it was as if I'd left something behind in that little room.
I'm glad I went, though I'm not sure if I'd want to do it again.

My next experience was the confrontation of one of my fears.
I'd always been pretty scared of heights and rollercoasters. Yeah I've been to Disneyworld but all the rides there have a strict emphasis on the fun element. So, I decided that a trip to Alton Towers was in order. I last went there in 1997 I think - and don't remember going on any of the rides at all so either I didn't, or it was such a bad experience I blocked it completely from my mind :) Anyway. My mission was to go on Oblivion. I saw it the last time I went and swore never to put myself through the ordeal of going on it. It's a simple ride. You sit in a car, go up a really steep incline, the ride tilts you so you can see the drop, then releases you to plunge into a black hole. It's horrible. And very high.

I saved that ordeal for last. I had to build myself up to it. The other rides at Alton Towers are pretty cool - Nemesis is fantastic. A new ride called Air is a very strange concept. You ride it horizontally - you spend most of it face down, watching the ground whizz by, and the rest of the ride on your back, watching the sky. A bit like flying I guess :) So... by the time I reached Oblivion I'd put my heart through it's paces but that didn't stop the fear and the dread that went through my mind as I walked through the empty queue. It was off-peak and midweek which meant that the park wasn't all that busy (which was great in most cases). Of course, I was almost hoping that there would be a queue as I was so scared but as my luck would have it, I was able to walk straight onto the ride. Before I could protest, I was unable to move and on my way up. It's odd but I don't remember much of the drop except for the fear. It was a petrifying and extreme experience that I wouldn't want to relive in a hurry. But I did it! And I was glad afterwards.

Thursday was the Goldfrapp gig. This was a bit of an experience because it was at Brixton Academy and I'd never been there before. To be honest, Brixton Academy has a bit of a reputation for being a bit of a dodgy place. Being a nice girl I don't often go to that kind of place :P
The gig was pretty good - particularly when they played Ride a White Horse where all these girls in tight outfits and horsey tails came onto the stage :))) For some reason I found that rather appealing...

Finally, yesterday I went to this fantastic new bar called the Absolut Ice Bar It was (literally) very cool. You have to reserve a time slot to go there and they give you these silver eskimo outfits to keep warm before you go in. The bar is kept at a temperature of minus five degrees and the walls and bar and seats are made of ice. The drinks are served in glasses carved from ice. Fantastic place :) But, as one review of the bar that I read put it, it's not a place to check people out. Not unless you have a penchant for silver eskimo outfits ;)


So... all in all I had a very busy week. This week I want to chill out and prepare myself for the physical and mental challenge that is my 10K run on Sunday :((((( eek!

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

pothole

Today, for the first time in a long while, I thought seriously about my options at work. I'm not an irrational person, but I am emotional and I take a lot of things quite seriously. The last time I thought maybe it was time for me to move on to perhaps another job, I was unhappy with the person I had to work for. In my eyes he was totally inept at management and only entertaining at best as a colleague. An attention-seeker and a failure at blagging - his only redeeming feature in my eyes was that he was more astute than he looked. It's hard to work for someone who you cannot respect.

Today, I felt it again. The little voice in my head saying, "are you sure you want to be here? you can do better than this. there are other opportunities waiting for you."
In the space of 2 minutes, this can happen. I have been criticised for taking too long to respond to a question. But my defense is that it's because I try and think about the consequences of my answers. It doesn't take a lot to knock the balance of a positive or negative outcome to any response you might give to even the most simple of questions. It's all a question of delivery. Location, wording, timing. It all matters. In maybe a minute or less you can fuck up so badly that everything goes wrong.

My point is this: when my manager gave me a piece of news today, it irreversibly changed the way I felt about my job, about the management, about my worth. When he intended this or not (I doubt it) I felt demotivated and undervalued. I felt reduced to an employee number in a very short space of time. I began to question my loyalty, felt somewhat bitter, angry and also upset. It's strange isn't it?

Some hours (and a fair few cocktails) later, I feel somewhat more rational. I have two days off work. I can think about how much it all means to me. I can think about my plan of action. I have an hour session in a floatation tank tomorrow. That's plenty of time to think about what I want to do. I will never stop being an emotional person. I will never be able to be ruthless in the workplace. But at least I can be rational and try and do what I believe to be the right thing in my own way.

Choices again. It always seems to be all about making choices. If only I could turn to page 281 to find out the outcome.