Saturday, January 2, 2010
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
every day another art
A New Year's resolution,
Bound to fail?
Every day another piece of art. Or some such scratching.
If the guy from the Royal College/ Academy can do a painting a day from the news, maybe I can do a little piece of subconscious doodling.
Rules.
None.
If I can write a novel only committing to 15 minutes a day maybe I can achieve this. As this is Dec 3oth.... I am just practising.... here we go.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
let myself down again
Photo a day... what with uploading, etc , taking the photos? Failed miserably....
Still, did a bit more editing on my novel, and started new story. Can't be a complete disaster.
And daughter enjoying her work experience, pretending she is at Vogue, and important. She is going
to a casting tomorrow.... what fun.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Keith
Bit of a cheat today's picture. It hasn't been taken by me but it is of someone I knew when I was about 23. And I have just learned that he has died at the end of last month. Heaven knows why in this school picture he is surrounded by girls, but then it seems strangely fitting. I had quite a crush on Keith- a saxophone player in a band led by a dear friend of mine. But ours was not to be a relationship. Just ships passing in the night. But I did inadvertently introduce him to his wife. He met her at one of my parties. One of those desperate occasions when you hope the light will dawn at your party that you are the girl for him, but find to your horror the light instead reveals another , and you are forced to witness the man of your dreams meet the woman he will fall in love with, and it isn't you. I am sad he has died so young. He was very talented. And no he wasn't for me. But something must have marked me in the exchanges we had. I chose another saxophone player in the end.....
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Bad mood. Have lost a favourite denim jacket. Have a cleaning lady who manages to leave stains on carpet that nothing will remove. And daughter who has been with her dad for a week has come back and I find it hard to get back into being the person who is irritating to her in all ways. And I am irritated with her. I want to scream. I also want to be alone again, just for a little while. In a space I can breath again. Does this make me a bad mother I wonder?
Brent Cross again today. Bungies were in force. Photo of the day. The ceiling at BC.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Cy Twombly piece
A few days ago my daughter's friend came home from being away a month. She is 17 has had ME for two years, and went away while her home has had all the rot removed from it and is being repainted with waterbased paint. She came home to a house in chaos, and paint fumes that stopped her breathing and sent her heart racing. She is now here with me and her best friend (my daughter). It is lovely to see her and frightening to see her so ill. She lies on the sofa watching DVD's with M who hasn't seen her best friend for 7 months even though she is a five minute walk away. She talks of the anger and pain of losing friends who don't call and she feels forgotten, except by my daughter who has called her every day for the last two years. This has been a terrible experience for her, she has lost so much weight due to food sensitivity which leaves her in crippling pain. She has to have oxygen three times a day. But then she chats to my daughter about dancing , and boys and I think for a short pocket of time she is interacting with another teenager and there is absolute normality back again. We love her. I really hope she will be better soon. I think her parents are now totally penniless and beside themselves with worry.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
People get old....
Sometimes it is hard not to see my parents as they were.
But I also have to face the fact that they are tired, and getting older.
My mum is frailer and there are moments when she looks her 83 years, and needs to
rest (which of course she doesn't) and my dad has to do more and more, and he gets tired. One day they won't be here and I will find that incredibly hard. I will miss the wit and charm of them. Their minds are razor sharp. They discuss world affairs with more intelligence and wisdom than people half their age- being journalists it is hard-wired into them. We have a good relationship. It has been hard won and we like each other. My friends find it unbelievable that I can spend two whole weeks with them whenever I can. They find it hard to spend more than a few hours with their parents. I think it is because my parents are so good at being on their own. They like being independent even of each other, and then coming together for meals with bits of news to share. Like birds bringing bits of nesting back to their home.
So I am lucky. Very lucky, and I know that luck runs out. And so I am mindful of every minute I can spend here and bask in their comfortable toing and froings.
But I also have to face the fact that they are tired, and getting older.
My mum is frailer and there are moments when she looks her 83 years, and needs to
rest (which of course she doesn't) and my dad has to do more and more, and he gets tired. One day they won't be here and I will find that incredibly hard. I will miss the wit and charm of them. Their minds are razor sharp. They discuss world affairs with more intelligence and wisdom than people half their age- being journalists it is hard-wired into them. We have a good relationship. It has been hard won and we like each other. My friends find it unbelievable that I can spend two whole weeks with them whenever I can. They find it hard to spend more than a few hours with their parents. I think it is because my parents are so good at being on their own. They like being independent even of each other, and then coming together for meals with bits of news to share. Like birds bringing bits of nesting back to their home.
So I am lucky. Very lucky, and I know that luck runs out. And so I am mindful of every minute I can spend here and bask in their comfortable toing and froings.
Friday, July 11, 2008
cy twombly
Have just seen something that has reminded me of Cy Twombly.
Why oh why do I love his work? It bypasses rational thought and his work gets straight to my heart.
My lover raises his eyes to heaven whenever I mention this. He has no idea why a set of scribbles can make me weep with joy.
But they do. He pierces my soul. I am going to get over to the Tate Modern and see him the moment I am back from my holiday.
time to go
Now is the time to hit the road.
The bags are packed, the cats sorted. Tomorrow we go. We go to a place where we can walk along the beach, swim in the pool, eat fresh food, and feel for a few days time slow to the speed it should be lived at. I shall read voraciously. I shall go to the beach in the morning armed with my Guardian crossword, order a cappuccino and marvel at the sunlight on the water.
Today, I kissed my lover goodbye. I shall miss him and enjoy the exquisite pain of missing someone who is still in my life after two years. But I shall also enjoy my freedom. My chance to edit the novel and the play and spend time with my daughter. I can hardly wait.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A few sunny days does wonders
I don't know who said this, I can't remember because , I am feared my brain really is shrinking.....
if you want to be happy for a few hours.... get drunk
If you want to be happy for a few months......fall in love
If you want to be happy for a few years....get married
If you want to be happy forever get a garden.
ah so true.....
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Brain attack
My mind is buzzing. Just had two days with therapists who want to be supervisors.
Nice to be in a group again, but also nice to be back home being ordinary and in the world of asking my
daughter what she wants for dinner.
Ordinary, normal, no big searching questions that make me feel space-y.
I notice when I am in these groups I tend to have moments when I just have to lighten up or make someone laugh by being outrageous, or the opposite of 'empathic therapist' . I want to laugh!!! Let me just be ordinary. And I also know that I am looking for fun in therapy.
It reminds me of Laing's session with a depressive client and how he spent the whole hour telling jokes outraging the client (who had laughed uproariously for the whole time) who felt Laing had not done therapy or earned his money. And Laing's view that he thought he had by providing a window where the client had had a different experience. Or something.
Now I could pick this apart. Just as it would be picked apart in a therapy group as possibly not being empathic to the client bla bla bla, but I also feel - Yes, sometimes too much empathy of the wrong sort, the formulaic sort is also not helpful. And that Laing was actually trying to do something much deeper than telling jokes, by pointing out something about the client's self importance and in his wanting to hold on to his depressive state.
Oh god. See the effect of being in a therapy group. I feel as though I have just disappeared up my own backside. I need to go back to washing the potatoes for dinner again. And changing into my pyjamas and sitting down to watch some drivel on the box. I want my head to stop peeling back layers of meaning and finding more layers of meaning. I want to hear my lover say. Isn't that just stating the bleedin obvious!!! Oh to be back to the bleedin obvious.
Nice to be in a group again, but also nice to be back home being ordinary and in the world of asking my
daughter what she wants for dinner.
Ordinary, normal, no big searching questions that make me feel space-y.
I notice when I am in these groups I tend to have moments when I just have to lighten up or make someone laugh by being outrageous, or the opposite of 'empathic therapist' . I want to laugh!!! Let me just be ordinary. And I also know that I am looking for fun in therapy.
It reminds me of Laing's session with a depressive client and how he spent the whole hour telling jokes outraging the client (who had laughed uproariously for the whole time) who felt Laing had not done therapy or earned his money. And Laing's view that he thought he had by providing a window where the client had had a different experience. Or something.
Now I could pick this apart. Just as it would be picked apart in a therapy group as possibly not being empathic to the client bla bla bla, but I also feel - Yes, sometimes too much empathy of the wrong sort, the formulaic sort is also not helpful. And that Laing was actually trying to do something much deeper than telling jokes, by pointing out something about the client's self importance and in his wanting to hold on to his depressive state.
Oh god. See the effect of being in a therapy group. I feel as though I have just disappeared up my own backside. I need to go back to washing the potatoes for dinner again. And changing into my pyjamas and sitting down to watch some drivel on the box. I want my head to stop peeling back layers of meaning and finding more layers of meaning. I want to hear my lover say. Isn't that just stating the bleedin obvious!!! Oh to be back to the bleedin obvious.
Brain attack
My mind is buzzing. Just had two days with therapists who want to be supervisors.
Nice to be in a group again, but also nice to be back home being ordinary and in the world of asking my
daughter what she wants for dinner.
Ordinary, normal, no big searching questions that make me feel space-y.
I notice when I am in these groups I tend to have moments when I just have to lighten up or make someone laugh by being outrageous, or the opposite of 'empathic therapist' . I want to laugh!!! Let me just be ordinary. And I also know that I am looking for fun in therapy.
It reminds me of Laing's session with a depressive client and how he spent the whole hour telling jokes outraging the client (who had laughed uproariously for the whole time) who felt Laing had not done therapy or earned his money. And Laing's view that he thought he had by providing a window where the client had had a different experience. Or something.
Now I could pick this apart. Just as it would be picked apart in a therapy group as possibly not being empathic to the client bla bla bla, but I also feel - Yes, sometimes too much empathy of the wrong sort, the formulaic sort is also not helpful. And that Laing was actually trying to do something much deeper than telling jokes, by pointing out something about the client's self importance and in his wanting to hold on to his depressive state.
Oh god. See the effect of being in a therapy group. I feel as though I have just disappeared up my own backside. I need to go back to washing the potatoes for dinner again. And changing into my pyjamas and sitting down to watch some drivel on the box. I want my head to stop peeling back layers of meaning and finding more layers of meaning. I want to hear my lover say. Isn't that just stating the bleedin obvious!!! Oh to be back to the bleedin obvious.
Nice to be in a group again, but also nice to be back home being ordinary and in the world of asking my
daughter what she wants for dinner.
Ordinary, normal, no big searching questions that make me feel space-y.
I notice when I am in these groups I tend to have moments when I just have to lighten up or make someone laugh by being outrageous, or the opposite of 'empathic therapist' . I want to laugh!!! Let me just be ordinary. And I also know that I am looking for fun in therapy.
It reminds me of Laing's session with a depressive client and how he spent the whole hour telling jokes outraging the client (who had laughed uproariously for the whole time) who felt Laing had not done therapy or earned his money. And Laing's view that he thought he had by providing a window where the client had had a different experience. Or something.
Now I could pick this apart. Just as it would be picked apart in a therapy group as possibly not being empathic to the client bla bla bla, but I also feel - Yes, sometimes too much empathy of the wrong sort, the formulaic sort is also not helpful. And that Laing was actually trying to do something much deeper than telling jokes, by pointing out something about the client's self importance and in his wanting to hold on to his depressive state.
Oh god. See the effect of being in a therapy group. I feel as though I have just disappeared up my own backside. I need to go back to washing the potatoes for dinner again. And changing into my pyjamas and sitting down to watch some drivel on the box. I want my head to stop peeling back layers of meaning and finding more layers of meaning. I want to hear my lover say. Isn't that just stating the bleedin obvious!!! Oh to be back to the bleedin obvious.
Friday, April 25, 2008
supervision
I am appalled to learn from a friend who is a chaplain in a hospital that she has no supervision.
She lives alone, and deals with such things as having to arrange burials for dead babies for people who don't speak english, arranging to wrap the poor 26 week old foetus and deal tenderly with the hysterical parents with the aid of an interpreter (dangerous at these times when the words you choose are so important) and then to deal with a suicide the next day. Where does she debrief? She needs to talk about these things. Luckily she opened up to me last night, because she knows I am a therapist, but she felt until then unable to call up a friend just to talk and be heard. She needs supervision. Especially as she lives alone and these things build up in the psyche and need clearing out. This sort of thing really upsets me. Do people who should know better really not understand the importance of support in these situations>
She lives alone, and deals with such things as having to arrange burials for dead babies for people who don't speak english, arranging to wrap the poor 26 week old foetus and deal tenderly with the hysterical parents with the aid of an interpreter (dangerous at these times when the words you choose are so important) and then to deal with a suicide the next day. Where does she debrief? She needs to talk about these things. Luckily she opened up to me last night, because she knows I am a therapist, but she felt until then unable to call up a friend just to talk and be heard. She needs supervision. Especially as she lives alone and these things build up in the psyche and need clearing out. This sort of thing really upsets me. Do people who should know better really not understand the importance of support in these situations>
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
a mark
Today he bit my shoulder and left a mark.
It comes after his fear about my friendship with another man.
He withdrew for a day until he realised he was being ridiculous.
I said "you are doing things in your head, don't , it is all rubbish".
And so after a few days of being jealous he comes back to me.
Love refreshed by seeing the possibility of it's ending- for he is
tied to his family and I am free, except for the fact I love him.
And so for the first time in two years he marks me at the neck.
A sign . Please don't leave. Please don't forget me.
Doesn't he know that the mark he leaves on me runs deeper than
skin deep?
It comes after his fear about my friendship with another man.
He withdrew for a day until he realised he was being ridiculous.
I said "you are doing things in your head, don't , it is all rubbish".
And so after a few days of being jealous he comes back to me.
Love refreshed by seeing the possibility of it's ending- for he is
tied to his family and I am free, except for the fact I love him.
And so for the first time in two years he marks me at the neck.
A sign . Please don't leave. Please don't forget me.
Doesn't he know that the mark he leaves on me runs deeper than
skin deep?
Monday, April 7, 2008
Easter time or White Christmas
Best we switch Christmas and Easter methinks.
The snow we had on Sunday was three or four inches thick. Looked beautiful, didn't ice up the roads, or turn to slush and was gone by the evening. Perfect. It didn't affect travel in anyway, or cause anyone injury. It provided a wonderful few hours of snowball fighting and was so well-planned it arrived on a weekend with time to enjoy it and disappeared before the adults started cursing.
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