I recently finished watching Las Chicas del Cable and so I thought I would share some extracts from my poem on the topic that dominates the final series: the Spanish Civil War.
They greased their rifles with olive oil, with Vaseline, with cold cream, with bacon-fat:[1] an opera, with the occasional death.[2]
It was pneumonia they were fighting against, not men[3] yet some of the voices that cried out in pain were still falsetto, soon to be broken by the war with thousands dead.
I wrote this at least five years ago after reading George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, which was recently in the news. You can see from the footnotes below, that the poem includes direct references to Orwell’s descriptions. Reading the book provoked me to have a conversation with my paternal grandfather, who lives just outside of Barcelona, after having lived as an immigrant for many years in London. Also a poet, there is tour about him, which the leaflets below are from.
I absolutely loved watching Las Chicas del Cable, and the parts that were about the Spanish Civil War touched me even more because of my familial connection. The ending was so moving and powerful, it brought me to tears. I highly recommend it.
A granddad I’ve never named as such, now through phone-lines brought closer, he tells me at the end of the conversation
how proud he is to have another poet in the family. I smile, as my bloodline extends back in time. My family, I think, with war wedged between them, yet in the end, they remained intact.
[1] George Orwell, Homage to Catalonia, p. 37 [2] George Orwell, (Georges Kopp), Homage to Catalonia, p. 34 [3] George Orwell, Homage to Catalonia, p. 37
I understand there has been a lot of criticism about 13 Reasons Why, much of it valid in dealing with such a sensitive topic as suicide. I wouldn’t recommend the show to anyone who is suffering or has suffered from suicidal thoughts and feelings. Netflix have now added a warning before the first episode, which really should have been there already.
Yet I have to admit that I was drawn into the story that was based on the book by Jay Asher, which I have not read. I was gripped by the narrative, and although it may be questionable to use such a subject matter in this way, I got a lot from watching it. Whilst it was a story of suicide, it was also about love and friendship. And although messages about suicide can be problematic, the basic idea of openly communicating with others and reaching out to those who may be in need, is a positive one.
Being a teen drama, it brought me back to my own teenage years, and I related to Hannah’s character, who we know from the onset has killed herself. I didn’t just relate to Hannah because of her long, dark, curly hair. When I look back over those years of adolescence, I would now say I was depressed, though I had no clinical diagnosis. I feel a sadness for my younger self and my mum at the memory of screaming that I want to kill myself. I associate a lot of negative feelings with those years, despite there being some positive elements. I went from someone who loved going to primary school, to struggling to make it through each day, just trying to exist.
There’s a video of me as a child saying ‘I’m not weird, I’m Carmina.’ I’ve received a text from a friend meant for another saying I’m weird, received a light-hearted card from a friend about being so strange I make them feel normal, and the head-teacher of a school I worked at once joked that the teachers had had a meeting and concluded that I was strange. For the most part, this isn’t something serious, but throughout my life I have often felt like an outsider. And my closest friends would probably admit they are a little strange too.
Then again, I remember going for counselling once, and the man told me I was okay and didn’t need to come back. It is something that I often feel therapists think about me. Sometimes I think my ability to articulate myself to them means I manipulate them into thinking I’m “normal” and everyone else is “crazy”. Since then, a doctor has nonchalantly told me I’ve got cyclothymia (a very mild form of bipolar disorder), and I’ve been treated for anxiety disorder. Being told I’m okay or normal doesn’t exactly help, because although I’m high-functioning and my mental health doesn’t generally have a big impact on my life, being told such things doesn’t match up to my life experiences – how I am treated, or viewed, by others, or the feelings inside me that may not been obvious to others, but are very much real.
So, when I was a teenager, my mental health was much worse (as I think it can be for a lot of people during this time). It can be damaging to think of this as simply a phase, when support is very much needed whatever age. I think being a teenager can be the most difficult time in your life, but then I’m only 28, so we will see. I had issues at home, and I had a difficult time getting on with everyone at school, and, although I had friends, I often felt like a target for a lot of different groups. Our school had a hostile environment, from the pushing up and down stairs, to the power games in the cafeteria.
I was also desperate for male attention, being at a girls school, but was also terrified of boys. I was like Raj in The Big Bang Theory, only able to talk to the opposite sex when fueled with alcohol (as a slightly older teenager). This naturally led to slut-shaming from boys (and some girls too). Boys who called me a beast, who slapped me round the face, who knocked me with their bike, who rated me out of 10. Boys who cheated on their girlfriends with me, without my knowledge, who said I was fucked up, who called me chewbacca, who said they’d like to rape me, who circled me at the bus stop aggressively saying things I couldn’t hear over my headphones (okay, that was all one boy). Plus, so-called friends revealing things told in confidence.
So, long story short, when I could see these issues reflected in Hannah’s story, it did trigger me, but not in a way that was negative. It brought back these memories, and it allowed me to progress them. I cried a lot, but in a way that was very healing. Whilst I agree with the criticism of the show, and can see it is not something that is suitable for everyone, for me, it helped to see my own life reflected in the story and helped process these feelings that I find difficult to let go.
***
Substance abuse is common among people who suffer from depression and many people with depressive disorder may self-medicate with drugs or alcohol to alleviate the symptoms of their illness. The website DrugRehab.com has extensive information on a multitude of issues such as substance abuse, addiction, and mental illness.
Ever since I heard about the snap election, I had been wanting to write something. The time has flown by and now I find myself just days before the election, still struggling to find the right words to urge people to vote for Labour. Since there there have been terrorist attacks in London and Manchester that have left me shaken up. There’s something about being away from friends and family that leaves me with an overwhelming desire for connection, yet it cannot be satisfied with such distance. Today I have been trying to carry on as normal, but unable to do so, feeling strange and emotional, breaking into tears a couple of times, unable to sleep at night. Perhaps this seems extreme, but I’ve always been an emotional person. This was one of the things I wanted to try to do today, so in writing I will try to heal and strengthen and focus my thoughts on positive change.
Nevertheless, this is so much connected with London being my home, where my friends and family are, feeling they are in danger. Just days ago in Kabul there was an attack with over 90 people killed, and as I type this I have found that suicide bombers have killed seven in yet another attack there. Overall, ‘Muslims suffered between 82 and 97 per cent of fatalities over the past five years.’ So, one of my fears, along with incidents like this happening in my hometown, is that people will use these events as leverage to spread hate and divide communities, which serves to exacerbate all kinds of violent extremism, whether in connection to Daesch, or right-wing racists.
I believe that the Conservative Party will divide the country more, putting its citizens safety at risk. Reading through its manifesto and hearing Teresa May speak, it is hard to read between the lines. In her statement, May said there has been ‘far too much tolerance of extremism in our country’, which is a confusing thing to say, and seems to contradict much of the rest of her speech. I don’t understand the ways in which anyone has tolerated extremism, and it begs the question of what the definition of extremism is.
I wanted to write a post where I tried to bridge the gap between potential Conservative voters and myself, but what I struggle with is when people have clearly different values. Those I have spoken to for their reasons in voting Conservative has come down to money. People with good jobs and nice homes, worried about getting taxed too much, or not getting enough inheritance from their wealthy relatives. And frankly, I find it hard to bridge that gap because it disgusts me that people would put their individualistic desires above those for the common good. But perhaps these people don’t understand how damaging the Conservative Party policies can be. At times it seems like people don’t want to know, that they would quite happily bury their head in the sand. I’m not perfect myself, but the least you can do is try to extend your care to others beyond your own life.
When I was younger I was more idealistic, and in the past I have voted for Liberal Democrats and the Green Party. Without Proportional Representation in our voting system, I have come round to what my parents had told me growing up, that it is a fight between Labour and the Tories. Whilst at times both parties have been more obviously centrist that left or right wing, with Jeremy Corbyn I felt like there was a true shift towards the left and away from the centre. I don’t like to hold anyone on a pedestal, but he has even been able to spark a moment of hope in those who had become apathetic about politics.
So, some of the things that I think should be considered before voting for the Conservatives are as follows:
-Refusal to tax the highest earners more, and instead hit those who are poorer.
–Disability cuts and illogical assessments of people have already been carried out under our current government.
-Providing free breakfasts as opposed to free lunch for primary school students, in order to save money.
–Privatizing the NHS, thus destabilizing the access to free health care, which is obviously paid for by taxes and is a basic human right, in my opinion.
-Questionable methods of dealing with mental health: from what I know, the Conservatives have been pushing CBT because it’s cheaper, whilst previously it was possible to get psychodynamic therapy.
-The ‘dementia tax’: despite the linked article at the bottom of this piece stating that pensioners will stop paying for their own care, £100,00 isn’t enough when considering how much house prices actually are, and there have been cases where people are now concerned that as well as their parents dying, they may also be homeless. The fact that they introduced a cap as an afterthought to the criticism just shows how clueless they are about everyday people.
-Immigration: the Tories use immigration as a scapegoat for other problems such as the housing crisis, and their negative rhetoric has meant an increase in hate crimes, as though it is acceptable to spout racist and xenophobic views.
It’s International Women’s Day! So, on to a topic that impacts on all artists, but arguably more-so women: payment for our labour.
Pioneers for advocating paying poets include Kate Fox, who started up the Poets Network; Paula Varjack, who is currently doing a show called Show Me The Money; and Vanessa Kisuule, who has been whipping up a storm recently with her response to a recent request for her to travel 4 hours for a 50 minute performance and be paid only £30 plus 30% of the door sales. Ridic. If she accepted, it would mean she was paying to work. Would you expect anyone else to do that in any other profession? No. So, she obviously had to refuse.
Despite my own struggles trying to run events and pay artists fairly, which has always been something that’s been important to me, I also recognise that some people, like me, are also doing low/unpaid work in organising these events, on top of accepting rubbish from trying to be a poet. However, it’s important to address issues of payment as they are integral to the ethos of the event. With She Grrrowls, part of the ethos has been that there’s no hierarchy of performers. However, it’s becoming clear that actually what’s more important is that women are valued for their work in monetary terms. I would still like to aim for equal payment for acts, but in July I am going to apply for funding and hope that it is this way that I can afford to pay artists what they deserve and stop apologising. (Though I’m bringing She Grrrowls to the fringe, I’m told it’s different there and that such nights don’t pay acts, and hey it’ll probably cost me around a grand to go myself, so as long as the acts will already be performing, I don’t think I can help that).
It was Bryony Kimmings who reminded me of this issue a few years ago, when she politely declined a gig that I shouldn’t have asked her to do, but did so on the off-chance, too exhausted from my day job and commute to properly reflect on the reality of what I was asking. She told me about illshowyoumine, which is about getting living wages for artists (please click that link, so worth the read!). It’s just not fair that being an artist is not valued as a profession, that it is something that only an elite few can pursue, that the starving artist cliché is something we are too close to emulating. In August I am going to take a risk and go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and from this point I’m going to be making my art a priority, and getting paid for it will be my focus rather than accepting another full-time job out of fear that I am not worth the money, a message that is implied by everyone from family and friends, to society at large.
With this in mind, without naming names, here is the good, the bad, and the ugly, of my experience being a professional poet over the past decade, albeit a part-time one.
The Good
£150 for a performance at a festival
£75 for curating a one-off event
£100 commission for a 15-20 minute set of poetry on a theme
£350 for shadowing a series of workshops and taking part in an event + £85 travel costs
£100 to read a poem and participate in a discussion on a topic
£100 plus professional mentoring to create new work
The Bad
No payment, but the only artist on the bill and able to sell books. Then the gig was cancelled without much apology or offer to reschedule.
Lots of unpaid gigs, workshops that are booked and then get cancelled, and awkward gigs where literally nobody showed up.
Being told you’re being booked to up the number of women, rather than because of anything else. I think this one paid with exposure too.
Being paid, but not realising that the host is taller than you and they’re looking at your breasts instead of your eyes. Well, that was a first. Like, in my whole life.
The Ugly
Repeat performances and never offered more than £10 for travel, then treated disrespectfully, being patronised and humiliated by the host.
So, in a few months I will working towards getting more of ‘the good’. For now, unable to afford striking today, I will be teaching English and hustling to get some paid writing work so that I can, like, actually eat whilst in Edinburgh.
I was at primary school when I first learnt what the word ‘hypocrite’ meant. I remember because I recall shouting it at other players during after-school netball games. I say shouting, but I’m quite softly spoken and so maybe I wasn’t all that loud. But I remember one friend laughing at me as I said it. Those who get close to me will learn this strange mix of vehement-quiet-girl still exists within me (why I’m so excited for the Shy Radicals book).
It was when I was a teenager, that I began to see my parents – and adults in general – as human beings. With flaws. One of those flaws being that they were massive hypocrites. As a child who had school reports detailing my strong sense of right and wrong, it was only natural that I developed this idea that being a hypocrite was not something I wanted to be, and with that I found it hard not to be overly righteous in defending my views. I never believed that I would become a hypocrite.
But maybe I was wrong. If I am to analyse the details of everything I do, I regularly go against what I believe in. I can do a lot better. And although I’m taking steps towards doing better, there will always be things I do that don’t live up to my ideal version of myself, especially when it comes to making money. For example, my current day job is teaching English as a foreign language. It can be a very rewarding job, yet, a big part of me is also uncomfortable about the fact that there is so much demand to learn English. It reminds me of how privileged I am to have been born where I was. Such a small country, such a widespread language, such a horrible history of colonialism.
And here I am, post-Brexit, living in Spain, not able to speak the language – because if you know English, why bother with any other language? Even the one of your heritage. My plan, to return to the UK, hopefully better acquainted with Spanish, and focus on my career as a writer. I feel I haven’t given myself the chance to properly try to live my dream. For a dream, I know it will seem less of that in reality, that it will be a struggle. But then so is working full-time and trying to work in the arts as a second job. It’s time that I make it a priority.
And in doing that, it’s likely my morals may be called into question. I might still be a hypocrite, and I might face dilemmas. Except maybe the money will be too much of a temptation, because I already auditioned for an advert for Transport for London because it paid more than my annual wage at the time (I’m now earning about half that annual wage, but my mental health is a lot better and I’m living in my own apartment instead of with my parents). And this dilemma is if I am lucky. Whenever I have seen other poets at Buckingham Palace, or on adverts, I have been excited for them, knowing that (despite the moral implications) I would be honoured to be asked and can’t imagine doing anything other than accept it. Even if I did feel uneasy about it.
This is for the same reason that I accepted my first job offer after I finished my MA and stayed there for 4 years. Because I have been taught that things are so bad that I should be grateful for whatever I can get. But right now, I have taken a risk and applied for Edinburgh Fringe Festival and booked to stay at a hostel for a month. It’s nearly double my current rent. I’m trying to save, but I am worried about being able to afford it. I thought about applying for some extra work that would ease these worries – £1000 for a month’s work online – but in the end, I wasn’t sure I would be able to commit to it on top of my full-time job teaching.
So, to imagine the fee that comes with doing adverts, such as the Nationwide ones, knowing that it could enable me to live my dream. It would be too good to refuse. And as another poet pointed out, it is the system that is the problem, and most of the time we are just trying to live. I’ve worked for minimum wage for WHSmith, JD Wetherspoons and Sainsbury’s. It doesn’t mean I agree with what they stand for, so if I was asked to pen a poem for those same companies, would it be any different? Perhaps it would, being that you are publicly associating your own brand as a poet with their brand, therefore it is a kind of endorsement that isn’t as true being a sales/bar assistant, which carries with it an element of anonymity, of being part of a uniformed mass.
In the midst of debate around the Nationwide adverts, although admitting he respects the poets in the ads, poet Luke Wright sparked debate with his poem Renegade Poets, which I think is what was intended. It is not so much the poets in the ads being targeted, but rather opening up a discussion about what it means when we accept these opportunities, especially for those of us who write political pieces and are vocal about things like Feminism and Capitalism. ‘McGough is doing Waitrose, and Clarkey’s doing chips…’ Wright says, while acknowledging it’s not about one specific case, and that it’s not new.
He laments about the art that is lost, the compromise you have to have, when selling your work in this way. One line that struck me was: ‘if nobody wants to see your show, it’s probably not good enough’, because part of me thinks there’s more to it than that. For example, with She Grrrowls, the audience can vary widely in numbers, and sadly I think being a feminist night, featuring women, this makes it more niche. Then again, there’s also music and comedy, which are arguably less niche than poetry. I have also had a promotor basically tell me that I don’t bring enough audience to the show. Whilst that may be true, I would never say that to one of my acts. It’s rude and patronising.
Nevertheless, the sentiment harks back to that line in Wright’s poem. If you are familiar with Wright’s work, you’ll see that at least in this sense, he practises what he preaches. How do you make something good enough? You work hard at it. At the night Homework, as well as in his solo shows, you can see the effort that goes into creating quality pieces, and the poem Renegade Poets is a great poem too, with an ending that really drives the point home.
The point being to think more about making these decisions, instead of doing what I imagine I might do – just see the money and and say yes. So, yes it’s important to think about this topic, but at the moment, I don’t think I’m able to make a decision. I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong in all contexts, but something that comes down to an individual company and what they stand for, and the person making that choice.
When I did my MA in Creative Entrepreneurship five years ago, part of me thought that if I had the right tools I could be successful in the arts. I grew up with two teachers as parents and they worked hard in their field and have been able to provide me with a good life. I have become slightly disillusioned since graduating and working, that although we were taught that the “struggling artist” cliche is a myth that doesn’t have to be fulfilled, I still fear know that by taking a risk later this year, I will living on the “cabbage budget” and may never see the “champagne budget”.
Disillusioned, but only slightly. I still hold on to my dream, and feel I have to give myself that chance. On another related note, Roxane Gay recently pulled publication of her next book How to Be Heard after ‘alt-right’ Milo Yiannopoulos received a $250,000 advance from Simon & Schuster. It is an act of protest. She has been able to stand by her morals and principles, but she has also been quoted by The Guardian as saying ‘I can afford to take this stand. Not everyone can. Remember that.’ Whether these moral choices are something we can do from the start of our career, or whether it is something success enables us to do so is still up for debate. I may be a hypocrite now, but I will try to push myself and do better.
When I attended CBT, one of the biggest revelations that emerged was that I have great difficulty dealing with uncertainty. This makes me incredibly impatient with myself, and other people. This is exacerbated when there’s a problem. Anxiety affects people differently – some people put things off, but, for me, I feel that I can get rid of that anxious feeling if I can deal with it as soon as possible. To the extent that, even if it is not possible, I will try to make it possible. The same goes for when things don’t go as planned; it’s like forcing a jigsaw piece into the wrong place, and it never does work.
Dealing with uncertainty means you have to accept that something is out of your control. I’m currently undergoing a learning process as to how to actually do this. Accepting we can’t control something does not mean stewing and constantly thinking about whatever it is, and doing things surrounding the matter. What I think it means, is taking a step back, and occupying yourself with something different.
As I write this I’m currently waiting for a number of balls to get rolling. Or rather, dominos, as they are all linked together. My patience is being tested since moving to Spain. The first test was finding a place to live. In my head, I had about a week, had booked a hostel, and imagined having viewings every day, and simply selecting which one I liked best. I remember it being quite simple at university in Norwich. However, the reality didn’t quite match up to my expectations, which is one of the main points about uncertainty – your mind tries to manage the uncertainty by creating these imaginary scenarios, none of which are really helpful.
I managed to arrange one viewing, but I didn’t know what to say to the agent when I came out. What I learnt from this was how important aesthetics are to my wellbeing, and I tended to much prefer the more modern spaces, with light rooms and bright colours. After finding out that the next day was a public holiday and I couldn’t go to any viewings, I spent the rest of the evening trying to arrange them for the next day.
¿Habla usted inglés? This was not Norwich, it was Córdoba. I couldn’t speak Spanish, and after a negative answer, I translated a few key sentences through Google for the next attempt. The person on the other end of the phone understood me… but I didn’t understand their answers. Both conversations resulted in them hanging up on me. After just one successful conversation with someone needing to call back because they were driving, I gave up, and they didn’t call back.
I spent the next morning continuing my search online, and then walked around the city with one of the other new teachers. The day after I had the idea of texting instead of calling, as well as getting some help from my place of work. In the end, I managed to find the perfect place through the agent I’d first met. However, when I was unable to get enough money out for that evening’s contract signing, I was upset and frustrated. I wanted to do it immediately, but it was impossible. I was up late that night on the phone to Barclays to try to retrieve the PIN for a card I didn’t usually use, to make sure I would have the whole amount needed the next day. This was a waste of time, as I then easily got my mum to find it for me at home.
So I was able to get the money the next morning and moved in that afternoon. Having a base now is helping with the next set of challenges. I still have to wait for an NIE number, which I need to be able to open a bank account, which I need to be able to set up the Internet. I also need to wait for my timetable before I can really start looking at course books or planning any lessons. I have no choice but to wait. Obviously, my impatience isn’t solved overnight. However, I’m trying to make the most of the free time I will be wishing I had in a week’s time, especially currently being without the distraction of Wi-Fi.
I have done a lot of walking, and a lot of shopping for things I needed in my flat, as well as a lengthy exploration of supermarket shelves. But I have also written a short story, a poem, and a couple of articles. I have played Adventure Time Card Wars, and completed puzzles in a puzzle book. I have been reading books, magazines, and my Spanish phrase book. I have even meditated. I tried watching TV, but my Spanish isn’t up to that level. And lastly, I’ve been cooking again, which I haven’t done on a regular basis since university (and I graduated in 2011).
So far, I’ve been distracting myself from thinking about my fear of everything I’m uncertain about, and it’s been working. It also helps to reflect back on what I learnt from the previous few months travelling and working in Vietnam. I’ll being working mornings and evenings, with a big break in the afternoon. In Vietnam, like many language schools, it was similar deal. What I learnt was actually how adaptable I am, so knowing this about myself now has challenged preconceived notions of myself, and also means I can reassure myself that I will find my routine, but that there is no rush to do so. Meanwhile, I’ll try to enjoy a slower pace, and ease myself into what is a big change in terms of both job and country.
When I attended CBT, one of the biggest revelations that emerged was that I have great difficulty dealing with uncertainty. This makes me incredibly impatient with myself, and other people. This is exacerbated when there’s a problem. Anxiety affects people differently – some people put things off, but, for me, I feel that I can get rid of that anxious feeling if I can deal with it as soon as possible. To the extent that, even if it is not possible, I will try to make it possible. The same goes for when things don’t go as planned; it’s like forcing a jigsaw piece into the wrong place, and it never does work.
Dealing with uncertainty means you have to accept that something is out of your control. I’m currently undergoing a learning process as to how to actually do this. Accepting we can’t control something does not mean stewing and constantly thinking about whatever it is, and doing things surrounding the matter. What I think it means, is taking a step back, and occupying yourself with something different.
As I write this I’m currently waiting for a number of balls to get rolling. Or rather, dominos, as they are all linked together. My patience is being tested since moving to Spain. The first test was finding a place to live. In my head, I had about a week, had booked a hostel, and imagined having viewings every day, and simply selecting which one I liked best. I remember it being quite simple at university in Norwich. However, the reality didn’t quite match up to my expectations, which is one of the main points about uncertainty – your mind tries to manage the uncertainty by creating these imaginary scenarios, none of which are really helpful.
I managed to arrange one viewing, but I didn’t know what to say to the agent when I came out. What I learnt from this was how important aesthetics are to my wellbeing, and I tended to much prefer the more modern spaces, with light rooms and bright colours. After finding out that the next day was a public holiday and I couldn’t go to any viewings, I spent the rest of the evening trying to arrange them for the next day.
¿Habla usted inglés? This was not Norwich, it was Córdoba. I couldn’t speak Spanish, and after a negative answer, I translated a few key sentences through Google for the next attempt. The person on the other end of the phone understood me… but I didn’t understand their answers. Both conversations resulted in them hanging up on me. After just one successful conversation with someone needing to call back because they were driving, I gave up, and they didn’t call back.
I spent the next morning continuing my search online, and then walked around the city with one of the other new teachers. The day after I had the idea of texting instead of calling, as well as getting some help from my place of work. In the end, I managed to find the perfect place through the agent I’d first met. However, when I was unable to get enough money out for that evening’s contract signing, I was upset and frustrated. I wanted to do it immediately, but it was impossible. I was up late that night on the phone to Barclays to try to retrieve the PIN for a card I didn’t usually use, to make sure I would have the whole amount needed the next day. This was a waste of time, as I then easily got my mum to find it for me at home.
So I was able to get the money the next morning and moved in that afternoon. Having a base now is helping with the next set of challenges. I still have to wait for an NIE number, which I need to be able to open a bank account, which I need to be able to set up the Internet. I also need to wait for my timetable before I can really start looking at course books or planning any lessons. I have no choice but to wait. Obviously, my impatience isn’t solved overnight. However, I’m trying to make the most of the free time I will be wishing I had in a week’s time, especially currently being without the distraction of Wi-Fi.
I have done a lot of walking, and a lot of shopping for things I needed in my flat, as well as a lengthy exploration of supermarket shelves. But I have also written a short story, a poem, and a couple of articles. I have played Adventure Time Card Wars, and completed puzzles in a puzzle book. I have been reading books, magazines, and my Spanish phrase book. I have even meditated. I tried watching TV, but my Spanish isn’t up to that level. And lastly, I’ve been cooking again, which I haven’t done on a regular basis since university (and I graduated in 2011).
So far, I’ve been distracting myself from thinking about my fear of everything I’m uncertain about, and it’s been working. It also helps to reflect back on what I learnt from the previous few months travelling and working in Vietnam. I’ll being working mornings and evenings, with a big break in the afternoon. In Vietnam, like many language schools, it was similar deal. What I learnt was actually how adaptable I am, so knowing this about myself now has challenged preconceived notions of myself, and also means I can reassure myself that I will find my routine, but that there is no rush to do so. Meanwhile, I’ll try to enjoy a slower pace, and ease myself into what is a big change in terms of both job and country.
*Note: I wrote this when I came to Spain in September and wanted to try to get it published elsewhere, but it’s been so long now and it’s out of date, so here it is!
People always misunderstand me, because I’ve got such a rare personality type.
This is kind of a joke, but I’m also deadly serious.
Sometimes even my humour hits a brick wall with people who don’t know me well. I’m quite a serious and reserved person, but that doesn’t mean I can’t let my hair down and have a laugh too.
Less than 1% of the population are INFJs. After feeling misunderstood so much as a teenager, the fact that it hasn’t stopped there has meant finding out my personality type has offered some explanation as to why that might be. If not a lot of people are like me, then how can they totally understand me?
Some people don’t like labels, and sometimes I even resist depending on who is saying it. I’ve often felt sensitive about being called an introvert, or shy, or quiet. So much so that I’m wanting to write something about these things. The idea got long-listed and high commended for the Sky Arts Scholarship once, so it’s something I definitely want to pursue. So as much as I identify as an introvert or whatever, any comment from people I don’t know that well having noticed something, and because of our society’s often negative depiction of those who are this way inclined, I can get a bit defensive.
Sometimes being an INFJ feels like being a mass of contradictions. Although I don’t like conflict, I do get angry about things and vocalise that anger when I feel I’m able to do so. This means the people I’m closest too don’t see that anger as a surprise, but why I once had a colleague who found it very funny when I would go on my little rants about someone who’d irritated me, or something that had irked the feminist part of me. When I was younger, I maybe tended to be more agreeable, but I’m now very opinionated and decisive about things, so as much as I might agree with certain things, sometimes it can be “my way or the highway”. Reading through the description, which can often seem very complimentary, and the notion that it’s a “rare” personality type can mislead you into thinking there’s something elevated about being an INFJ. But we have flaws like anyone else, and as much as being altruistic, caring and supportive is important to us, getting riled up and fixating on particular expectations can mean upset for both parties when there’s a conflict.
One of the things that got me interested in exploring my affiliation with this personality type, was a Burn After Reading workshop on projected identities. Because at different points I may project different things, and people will make assumptions based on that. Because I’m able to communicate well the more I know people, and have learnt to adapt to situations where I’m with strangers, I find the acquaintance-friend gap really hard to get my head around and sometimes I worry about coming across rude, simply because I find certain situations hard to navigate. If I don’t expect to see someone in the street, I may pretend not to see them, or if someone calls but I’m focused on something else and unprepared to talk, I might screen the call and get back to them. Not because I intend to be rude, but I just find it very difficult to handle.
There is so much more to say about the INFJ, as with all personality types, but I just wanted to highlight a bit about the type and why we can often feel misunderstood.
So, I’m selling a total of 57 items on eBay. If you click on the featured products here you will be taken to the page to bid or buy! To see them all, click here. Dresses, skirts, tops, t-shirts, jumpers, jackets, blazers, hoodies, accessory sets, and handbags galore. What ya waiting for? Go explore! 😀 xxx
Upper 5th pink leopard print dress. A bold statement dress which looks amazing with a cinch belt (especially one with a hint of gold!)
A personal favourite, this poker print dress from Reko is a truly unique item. I have another with musical note prints but I’m keeping that for myself because musical notes are kind of my thing!
This item has never been used and still has it’s label saying that it is handcrafted and each bag is unique.
This is pretty much a staple t-shirt, such a classic item.
All the way from California, this Abercrombie and Fitch “Hidden Talents” t-shirt will really have them guessing!
Channel 4 is doing these documentaries about taste, presented by Grayson Perry called ‘In the Best Possible Taste’. The first have been about the working class and the middle class. I acknowledge I am middle class, people call me middle class and I don’t have much opinion on it because I don’t really care what class a person is (but I suppose that’s a middle class thing?) I have been annoyed at certain assumptions that have been made about me by dear friends simply because they see me as middle class, because, for me, I don’t like reinforcing divides in that way and being told that because of my class that I am a certain way or my life has been a certain way etc.
My Mum is working class, my Dad is middle class, and I’m somewhere in between – but leaning more towards middle class (especially as through the years my house has got bigger as we’ve moved as a family, and I’ve been to university). Perry himself states education is the pathway to upward mobility.
He revealed that two thirds of us are now say we’re middle class, as opposed to 25 years ago when two thirds identified themselves as working class. In terms of working class tastes… I have so many ornaments and emblems of memories that I have to put some in boxes now, much to my dismay. Another aspect would be the idea of dressing up, being “glamourous” and wearing bright colours… but I have a feeling this is where I start to go into the middle class zone.
One of the main things that I got from the working class part was that the taste you had was to show you were part of a group. Maybe it is a middle class notion, but I would have thought it was more of a Western concept, that I value independence. I like to think for myself, and I like it when others can do the same. Nothing makes me cringe more than people who follow and copy each other and can’t stand to be separated. However, I think this says that we are far more complicated than our class. Although I value independence, I am increasingly seeing the importance of interdependence and have written a piece about that here from Zukuri UnLtd.
Now, on to the middle class part of the series. I like cakes. I HATE Range Rovers. Generally, I’m not a fan of brands. If I like a brand, I’m very selective… Adidas, Cath Kidson and Chanel (the latter of which I can’t afford). Without realising it, that selection says a lot about me and my class. As does the tagine on the table in the documentary. I would probably have one for my kitchen when I’m older.
On the programme they say that the middle class originates from merchants, being self-made – and that kind of goes with the idea of being an entrepreneur. It’s the ‘class that doesn’t know it’s place… they’ve struggled and got where they are’ etc. Within the middle class there are different types it seems. I wonder what type I am. The idea of ‘vintage’ obviously appeals to me. Though people mock and resist the idea, and try to cling on to working class roots, me and a fair few of my friends would fit in with the indie/hipster/scene/vintage/retro labels. ‘Bestowing our individuality’. This song by Say Anything shows the contradiction here perfectly.
Perhaps I am neither class, because I am “a creative”. One woman that features in the middle class part of the series states that Perry still has the ‘unkempt hair of a creative’ which is very much like myself. No matter how doll-like my face is made-up to be, my hair will not be tamed. Or, maybe my desire to be an individual, as opposed to part of a group, just highlights how middle class I am. As Perry says, the middle class are the class most aware of their choices and that is both a blessing and a curse. Though I don’t identify with the upper middle class, I feel like I don’t fit with the lower middle class… so am I the middle middle class? Or do I not fit anywhere until I am an adult existing on my own, without the comfort of my parental home? And, then, what makes one middle class – education, speech, manner, money, taste, or what?
middle class taste: cupcake ornaments, Soap & Glory, faux-Retro signage, Adidas, Converse, vintage clothes, hats and festival wristbands…all on a bed (literally) of Cath Kidson duvet. And a mask.
I didn’t feel I had much to say about upper class taste. The idea of being “appropriate” and putting on a “uniform” could not be more opposed to me. However, the more quirky people and those that defied their ancestors were more my cup of tea. That kind of bohemian spirit that my Dad says I have, like my Gran. And the way I believe that Converse should always be worn dirty. However, these people seem to have more in common with the middle class, with a desire to be individual, rather than just one in a pack.
Well, interesting stuff. Perhaps I should end with something more poetry-related. Don’t worry, my next post is due to be all about poetry. Though I hope to get back to this and view the tapestries he’s made one day. Anyway, here’s a poem to end it on, which I actually wrote before this programme but it kind of deals with similar themes.
ʔ
You’ll analyse my glottal stop,
my gloʔal stop, my glottal
stop. You’ll analyse my punctuation,
vocab and my polka-dots.
You’ll look at my lips,
look at my eyes, the mic
stand between
my two thighs.
You’ll see the content,
and the form, as I
read to you, as I perform.
You’ll look inside
each word I say, see how
the d and o do play.
You’ll hear each letter,
each diction choice, each y-o-u
inside my voice.
You’ll analyse my glottal stop,
my gloʔal stop, my glottal
stop. You’ll analyse my punctuation,
vocab and my polka-dots.
Poet on page and stage. Creator of She Grrrowls. Facilitator. Writer. 