NOT on My Watch...

Whoever said "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me" is a complete fool. I've never known anything hurt more than a word or a name spat in venom.

This blog isn't about me, per se, although i have seen my fair share of plain and simple bullying, which is exactly why i'm the way i am today, and i'd like to say this: i will NEVER stand by and watch it happen to another person.

This has all come about because of my place of work (yes, i realise that internet and employment NEVER mix but to be honest, i think my boss is far too up his own sphincter to take interest in what other people do outside of his restaurant) and the people in it. Basically, aside from my boss, i am the oldest waitress - as a result i seem to have fallen into a place of confidence amongst the younger staff who are too intimidated by my boss to talk to him personally. One girl in particular is fifteen, and is experiencing a lot of trouble with one of the chefs. In short, he's making her work life a misery.

She has a number of options open to her. One is to stand up for herself. Another is to leave. Well, shes tried the first and it lands her in trouble. The second isn't an option for many reasons, and the main conclusion is, why should she have to?

She shouldn't, is the answer, quite simply because this sort of thing SHOULDN'T be happening in a place of work. Something should be done and the only reason nothing is being done, is because nobody dare stand up to my boss, or to the bullying chef..

Well, i dare.

The majority of my family tell me that i shouldn't get involved, that my own job will suffer, that i may be sacked, etc etc. To be perfectly honest, id be able to live with myself far easier if i got sacked for doing what was right, rather than getting paid to keep my trap shut. I sure as hell will NOT do it. As far as i'm aware, the rules are on my side. And the side of the people im looking out for.

Seriously though, what kind of employee lets his staff bully each other?!

GRRRR!

Fixed?

Alright, as per request by Katie Parker (BARRYYYYYYY!) This post is to be about addiction.

It occurred to me, while i was trying to think of what to write, that everyone is addicted to something. We, as a race, do not like the word 'addiction' because, nt only is it stigmatised as being used to describe bad addictions, such as drugs and the like, it also insinuates an apparent giving over of control. We can't HELP being addicted to something, and that takes away our independence. Its a big no-no to some people.

But addiction isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sure, its usually associated with drugs, alcohol and gambling and the like. But in this its not the addiction thats the problem, its the object of the addiction no? these things, even in moderation, are a very sharp knife-edge to be walking on.

So when good things come along and we find ourself unable to be away from them, what do we do then? we get scared because weve lost control of our senses in a way. the mind tells you that addiction is bad, so you shy away from any behaviour that shows the tell-tale signs. But sometimes you become addicted to things without even knowing it. Love, if you like. You become addicted to a person. You spend all your time with them and can't bear to be apart from them for long. is that not a sort of addiction? What about music? You turn your radio on because you cant bear the silence. What would happen if your radio broke? would you go mad? What about all the things that, if you think about it, you wouldnt dare be without?

Its almost, in a way, the whole "if you were trapped on a desert island" thing. If you could find a way to wrangle your fate you would take as much with you as possible because you are dependant on the things around you that provide you with some form of comfort. thats what addiction is; its becoming dependant on something that, in your own opinion, enhances your lifestyle. So addiction can't really wrong, per se.

In the meantime, heres a list of things i'm addicted to:

- music
- Chocolate
- wotsits (cheesy puffs for the international readers :3)

- facebook (who isnt?)

- my friends. i get withdrawal symptoms being on my own!

What are you addicted to? what could you not live without, if push came to shove? Hmmm.

Habere, Deus

This week has been purely Surreal. I've said that a lot this week but for those who know the tale will agree with it, and once you yourself have read it, you'll understand it.

My nana has suffered with Emphysema for a long time now. She collapsed in 2006, and was given an oxygen tank and a mask, which she has to wear 15 hours a day to be comfortable.

Last week, things got the better of her and she admitted herself to hospital for respite. Sunday we visited her and she seemed to be doing better.

Monday morning, her birthday, no less, we got a call. THE call that you dread. "You'd better come to hospital as soon as possible." We all told our bosses where we were going, and headed to hospital as fast as possible. After getting calls, her 4 children and 5 grandchildren, along with partners, rushed to the hospital. And she was in a very bad way... She had a huge mask strapped to her face, and she just looked so frail. Frail isnt something my nana is. Shes the most head-stubborn woman i've ever met. But still, there she lay, literally knocking at heavens door.

By Tuesday afternoon, every single one of us had accepted the inevitable. Consultants had told us not to hope. There was no way she could recover. My nana, in her consciousness, tried to school us, comfort us. My nana to a tee - she was comforting us. She told us she was ready to be with the family that had already passed.

And then, by Tuesday evening she had picked up. Her heart rate had slowed from abnormal to somewhat normal. Her breath capacity had improved by a third - a figure we hadn't seen for months, even when she was at home.

Wednesday morning, the doctors announbced that my nana was well enough to come home - said through splutters of disbelief. Its a miracle, they said. "We can't understand how she's still alive. There is no medical reason for her recovery."

Too bloody right it's a miracle!

I remembered then, what i'd said as watched her struggling in-between worlds. God, i haven't ever asked for much, and never for myself. But my family aren't ready for life without my nana. My mum still needs her mum. If you can save her, i promise i'll listen to you more. ill go to church, i'll do anything.

The prospect of getting up early on a sunday morning has never looked so optimistic. I have someone to thank, and i made a promise. Someone has saved my nana, and i'll keep to my word.

Shes coming home today, and i couldn't be more thankful. And even through the preparing for undescribable grief, i was amazed (as were the doctors) by my family. Thirteen of us were in one room to support my nana within 5 hours. (some of us live further away than others). The doctors suggested that the overwhelming support we all provided had something to do with her recovery. The hospital said they haven't ever seen that level of dedication. Well, why shouldnt we be here? we love our family, were here when something goes wrong.

What else astounded me was my own strength. I kept level headed around my family. My worst moment was when i was trying to sleep the first night and all i could see was my nana with a horrible mask on her face, looking the frailest id ever seen her, and, if im honest, not looking remotely like herself at all. it was horrifying to think that she was in as much pain as the vision looked like it was giving her.

A message for smokers: Ive never been a militant 'dont smoke' person. To tell the truth i've had one or two myself when ive been drunk. But if not for yourself, for the sake of your family, quit. Don't ever let them see you in a hospital bed, suffocating on your own lungs. Its too horrifying to watch someone you love so unconditionally go through that level of pain.

For now, though, im grateful for my life. My nana has been given back her life and her health. For now, at least. I'm also very privileged to have a very nice guy helping me through all this. Hes a gem, despite a few glitches back in the past.

New day, new outlook, new life.

Thank you, God.

Bring me my chariot of fire!

This is probably going to be the oddest thing i've ever said and its going to take a looooooong blog to clarify what i mean by this. but...

Isn't religion incredible?!

The main bulk of this - i am afraid for those of different religions reading this - is going to be about western religion, predominantly Catholicism, because its the one that has evoked my current wonder. Its not that i favour Catholicism... far from it actually, because i am a polytheist. And, really, this is more to do with... the Renaissance than it is to do with religion itself, but of course, the two are heavily connected.

So heres the deal. I went to see Angels and Demons this week. And... well, im amazed, truly, at Dan Brown's skill (shock horror here, but a writer, who hasn't read any of his books... thats a regrettable decision im going to change as soon as i can!) and i've realised, that even though i hate the idea of hypocrisy that is created by Catholicism sometimes, i LOVE the art and the thought surrounding it, and the books.

I found it fascinating to see how the fictional character Robert Langdon found his way to a place so theoretical and buried in myth and hearsay, simply by following works of art. And, i'm willing to bet that these were not the intentions of the artists mentioned... Raphael Santi, Michaelangelo Simoni, Giovanni Bernini... it was incredible to see how they fit and how such a divine and intense plot was formed around them.

But then the art alone is something to be marveled at. Ive always thought that i would visit Rome for it's Pagan ruins; the pantheon and the colusseum. Survivors of the ancient world. Never, in my wildest imagination, did i think that Rome would hold even better history after that time.

Although the History of Catholicism is bloody (ive heard somewhere that out of the history of Popes, 230 have died in violent cases) it seems to carry with it a colourful and more positive light. one of art and thought... although these two have laid in conflict, often they work together.

Such famous characters as Galileo and Descartes, Ficino, Da Vinci... masters of thought and of modern thinking. Pioneers of their time... Strangely, names we know but cannot offer much more about what they did than a quote or "that painting he did, the vit.. something" (the Vitruvian Man is what i was going for there) but they have shaped so much of our time, im glad that such a fictional masterpiece has been published to give them due credit.

The whole ado, i suppose, also, has redeemed my opinion of the Catholic Church. Although there are some things i disagree with (rules that once worked, that are now outdated; but maybe such is the way that catholicism is what it is, and is thus followed by millions of people worldwide) it has a new light for me. Ive always been fascinated with the stereotypes.... confession, mass, the latin... catholicism has always seemed to me to be a more educated and age-old religion (allbeit a biased one). The films based on the books by Dan Brown, have made me much more intrigued about papal conclave and the like. i like, that there is so much meaning in things we label simple, and how such simple things can be interpreted and woven into these amazing tales. I think its safe to say, i love the decorations of Catholicism. Whether id go as far as to say i agree with the teachings themselves... is a very different story.

There was a part of the film where i had to stop and think, though. Exactly what do i not agree with here? the principle? i think its the negative effect it has on people, to create people into mindless sheep who believe that they need to be led to live when this isnt necessarily so. This, i suppose, is why the church was so offended by the idea of science during the renaissance - science proved that people could choose for themselves. But - and this is coming from a woman with much less faith than knowledge - science is no substitute for knowing you have somebody looking out for you, and this was more or less proved to me whern i heard this quote:

"My church?! My Church comforts the sick and the hungry, comforts the dying. What does your church do?" (Commander Richter)

And its true! Credit to the church, although i don't follow it, many do, and if it gives them comfort, well then, good for them. With such power and majesty surrounding it, i'd happily follow if i had such ardent faith.

On a separate note, kudos to Hans Zimmer, for once again creating a musical score that has left me breathless. Hans Zimmer has composed the musical score for many brilliant and favourite films including The Lion King, Pirates of the Caribbean, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron and Gladiator. Having done the score for both Dan Brown - based films, i think i now worship the man. I urge everyone to listen to the song Chevaliers de Sangreal - Those who have seen The Da Vinci Code may remember it well.

"The Holy grail, 'neath ancient Rosalyn waits..

Adorned in Master's loving arms, she lies.

The blade and chalice, guarding, are her gates,

She rests, at last, beneath starry skies."

ARGH! I BLOODY LOVE THIS STUFF! :D

I am DEFINITELY scared of Becky Taylor.*

Alright, so, i know i haven't blogged in a while so i thought, amidst my busy schedule of doing... well, nothing, i'd do SOMETHING.

I've been home in Bridlington for the past five weeks, working and entertaining friends and family. I managed to get those diabolical essays out of the way and everything, just in time to come home and do more work. At least the work i was doing this easter was brainless.

To be perfectly honest, i might have left this blog a lot longer, even though ive been reminding myself to write for aaaaaages - frankly, my motivation levels are akin to the braincells of a chav, i.e. next to none. But then, the most random event occured and i just had to, to process this incident in my head.

People really surprise me sometimes. The first odd thing that happened this week is my ex, talking to me. Without (i assume) an ulterior motive - very strange indeed. I'm... i wouldn't say happy because im still slightly suspicious, but id like to think its the start of something civil.

The second, and even stranger occurence is an old schoolmate getting in touch with me to tell me to write more.

I'm used to being suspicious of people. But i was woken up by a text the other morning by a girl i used to go to school with. Roxanne and i were in a few lessons together, and have a few marital family connections. At school, i assumed, as i assumed with most people that i wouldn't have much influence or really even be liked. By several people, in fact.

This text confused me (as many things do at 6.30am) and i spent a good while making sure i wasn't dreaming. (at this point that morning i was also having an argument with the water by my bed. No alcohol involved but i didnt remember getting it. CONFOOOOOJUN!) i dont think i can really get across how nice it was to have someone who i didn't think would still be interested in what im currently doing, to text me asking me to write more. For one it was nice to know that a few people in my year can actually read (hehe, only joking!) and more so, it was nice to know that i'm not just writing pointlessly, someone is getting joy from this - which is why i started it in the first place. Roxanne, your story is on it's way. I've started writing it and i'll get it to you ASAP!

On a completely random note:

- I completely fancy Barack Obama and Marco Pierre White.

- Im STILL not over my twilight saga obsession.

- Im jived to be going back to Swansea

- I worked 40 hours last week and can't wait for a lie in

- I am DEFINITELY scared of Becky Taylor. (*side note, this may only make sense to those living in the UK.)

Eye of the Storm

ARGH. I HATE essays. i've just spent the past week banging my head against a brick wall (well, not literally although im sure it wouldnt have been as painful) over this essay. Socrates, oratory, Gorgias, persuasion, conviction, blah, blah, blah.

WHAAAAAAT? i think i wrote the 2000 word essay in a trance, where in my subconscious i understood actual Greek. I could swear thats what my book was written in.

And i finished it, JUST in time to fret about the next one due Wednesday, which is to evaluate a Roman city. *cries*

i HATE ESSAYS! hate hate hate! go read Gorgias and you'll see why!

Hellspawn?

Right, having a hard time of it recently. Essay due on the 11th on a subject im not properly enrolled for (technicians wont sort it out quick enough) and i dont have an actual working computer at home.

This. Makes. Me. ANGRY.

I'm not talking the hulk, im talking complete monster sent from the depths of hell crabby. I'm properly driving Brinners and Kayleigh nuts with my arsy ways but i dont give a rats ass this week, im in full strop mode. Oh, having no money doesnt help either... =/

On the other hand, there are some things going well. To mention them precisely would be a taboo of a jinx and all, so im not going to say anything right now but i have hope.

Picking up my tarot cards again, trying to learn them a bit more. the more i learn though, the more i get confused. such contradictory meanings. Maybe its just a reflection of some wise epiphany; LIFE itself is unpredictable. It cannot BE predicted. its all 'ifs' and 'mights'.

As requested by Miss John, a word or two on the effects of alcohol. (Purely fiction of course ;])

I was first aware of my own existence that morning when i felt a dull pain in my earlobe. I stirred slightly, confused. It didn't take long for me to realise what was causing my discomfort - my best pair of earrings, pressed against my neck so that when i finally reached up to take them out i could feel the marks they'd left behind. This movement created a new problem - i was suddenly very aware of the fact that i seemed to have fallen alseep on a merry-go-round. I opened my eyes slowly to find i was staring at a ceiling. A still ceiling. Oh God, i thought, that meant i was still drunk. I tried to sit up slowly, looking around the room. My desk had moved. Not just a little bit, either - it had traveled from its place at my window, to a new place a foot away from the door. I shook my head, instantly regretting the movement when it brought a fresh wave of nausea to the surface. Clapping a hand over my mouth, i scrambled my way out of the bed, yanking the door open and flying across the hall to the toilet.

Some minutes later, eyes watering and my breath tasting like something described only in tales of terrible sea-monsters, i shuffled my way back into my room, trying to piece together the fragments of memory i could remember from the previous night. I had left the club at 3am, i knew that much. Someone had dropped me in a taxi, paid it and sent me home. With a lurch of unease, i checked my phone. Remembering horror stories about ex-texting and the likes. Although i had no ex to text in such a way, i still had family and friends that would laugh, cry or be plain horrified by the drunken stupor i must have slipped into.

5 messages. Crap. With a sigh of relief, i found that most of them had been "where are you" messages that had gotten lost, along with my signal, on the dancefloor. The last, though, confused me.
"Who was that guy? hope you got home ok, text me when you get this." My best friend, ever vigiliant, more like a mother, had text me, at 4am, making sure i was ok. But what guy did she mean?

I was scared by this point. My brain continued to try and make connections between the sparse flashbacks that flickered through my mind every so often, but nothing really fit. Somehow, i had lost a whole two hours of my evening...