Healthy cynicism?

A fortnight ago, a friend who is Naturally Beautiful but Doesn't Really Know It came to stay with me. I was watching an episode of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman when she arrived (I have several of the seasons on DVD - it's one of the programmes that I really enjoy watching, however corny we may all agree that it is). I left it running in the background and turned down the volume while we caught up with each other's news. At one point Naturally Beautiful, who had just looked up at the TV screen, said "Oooh, he's a bit tasty!". I was fairly sure who she was talking about, but I turned to look and agreed - yes, he is. This is one of the reasons I like watching Dr Quinn.

We started to talk about the other reasons I like it, and she asked me a question which I have previously asked myself. In fact, SuperMum asked me something similar last week when we watched Bulletproof Monk (which I also like). Why is it that I like this, with its many 'happy endings' but that romantic comedy films make me cross. I watch these romantic comedy. They make me smile - often they make me giggle - but in the end they usually make me cross. Why? Because the world is not like that. Not all relationship problems are surmountable with a hurried drive to the airport to stop her getting on the plane, or a New Year party where if you kiss someone you'll be with them all year. Lots of relationship problems are not fixable. Sometimes life kicks you - hard - in the stomach and you just have to stand up and move on. This is not the stuff of romantic comedy.

Why doesn't Bulletproof Monk make me cross? Because it doesn't ask me to buy into 'love conquers all'. It asks me to suspend my disbelief, pretty much from beginning to end, and doesn't really make a secret of this, and doesn't present itself as 'real'. Romantic Comedy asks me to buy into 'real' happy endings. And these happy endings often just 'forget' about the previous problems. They haven't been addressed, dealt with and overcome; they've just been set to one side - outside the genre of the romantic comedy ending - and the writers, producers and directors expect the audience to forget these problems too. It sells the fairy-tale romance, and we [are supposed to] buy into it. I'm not sure I do, anymore.

Yes, this might be cynical. It might be, as Naturally Beautiful suggested, entirely different were I dating someone. But for now I'm not, and I don't want to be fooled into buying into 'Hollywood love'.

So, what is it about Dr Quinn that I am prepared to buy into? Well, I think it's an advocation of an old fashioned, pulling together, community spirit - it's not just about romantic relationships. Things don't always work out and it doesn't often ask me to conveniently forget problems for the purposes of a happy ending. But it does have happy endings.

I'm not really against them. I am, in fact, looking for my happy ending. But if / when it comes, I don't want it to be romantic comedy contrived - partly because at some point those problems we conveniently forget will find us, and by that point everyone's in too deep not to get hurt. There's nothing wrong with a bit of realism. Even if it at times it seems cynical...

The significance of everyday things

Yesterday morning I was putting on a different necklace - I usually wear the same one for 'everyday' activities and change it only when I'm going somewhere, or if the top I'm wearing requires a larger pendant / longer chain etc. I decided the new one didn't look right, took it off and reached for my usual necklace. It's a short silver chain, on which hangs a silver cross, anchor and heart, attached together on a very small silver ring.

People I meet wonder what's on the chain, as these items usually hang one on top of the other. Friends who have known me for a long time suddenly reach over to get hold of them and take a closer look. "I have worn this almost every day of the four years you have known me!", I said to The Piano Player. "Really! Well, maybe it's usually hidden under your jumper", he said. "Maybe", I agree, but I wonder if it just because I do wear it everyday that he's never noticed it before. "What is it?", he asked. I explained it's a cross, an anchor and a heart, representing Faith, Hope and Love/Charity. I've had a similar conversation on several occasions. "Why is the anchor Hope?", someone asks. I'm no longer entirely sure, but I say something I remember from junior school assemblies about Hope being your anchor: "May your anchor hold in the storms of life" goes the song I remember singing, but don't remember any more lines. But however vague my memory of this may be, I do believe that an anchor of Hope is a wonderful and positive image, and one I like to hold on to.

The necklace was given to me when I was still at school, by a friend with whom I have long lost touch. I don't remember why she gave it to me. We weren't best friends, but we were good friends (I think we bonded over dental braces). I'm fairly sure the necklace was not a birthday or Christmas present. Its overt significance as a gift has been lost somewhere along the line. But every now and then as I reach for my everyday necklace, I remember that she bought it for me and wonder what she's doing now. And I wonder what she would think if she knew I still wear it at all, let alone everyday.

I wear my necklace of Faith, Hope and Love without thinking much about its significance. It's only when I'm asked, that I am consciously aware of the meaning of the cross, anchor and heart symbols I wear everyday. I don't know whether Also Had Braces meant me always to have Faith, Hope and Love with me, or whether it was a pretty and affordable necklace for a girl in her early teens to buy for a friend. But that's not to say I feel no connection to or responsibility for the beliefs, ideas and friendship tied up in my necklace - it's just that my wearing of it is not a fully conscious or deliberate demonstration of these things.

Sometimes, I think, it takes an inquisitive eye, a new perspective, or indeed the 'wrongness' of an alternative necklace, to remind us all of the significance of everyday things.

Little Dogs

It's hard to check your email with a dog on your knee.

And I'm discovering that it's even harder to write a blog post.

You see, at the moment my Little Dog spends most of the week at Supermum's house and usually the weekend at mine, although I haven't had her for a while what with reunion dinners and interviews down South. And when she's with me, she likes to be with me. She likes me to sit in the same spot so that she can comfortably go to sleep without fear of me not being there when she wakes up. And she likes to sit on my lap at all available opportunities. Usually, this would be on the floor - she likes to curl up on my legs if I sit crossed legged. I don't allow her on the bed or on the sofa - not that she takes any notice of this rule when I am not in the flat (or indeed in the room). But it seems today I'm not allowed to sit at my desk without company either. She has done this before when she was much smaller, and actually clicked send on an email I hadn't finished writing. Luckily, my employer to whom I was writing had cats and understood the problem when I sent the second part of the email with explanation.

You do have to understand though, when I say my Little Dog, she is not a lap dog. She's a mixed breed border collie sized dog. She was little when I got her and she still thinks she is. Hence, I'm typing a post with the (not so) Little Dog sitting on my knee...

Fellow Travellers

Opposite me on the train sat an older man, who got on, got out his laptop and set about whatever it was he was doing. He had no time to smile. Next to him, sat a woman wearing large Victoria Beckham type sunglasses. I guessed she was a fair amount younger than me; I find putting an age to people tricky anyway (particularly women), but this one didn't help because she was wearing far too much make-up (a trait sadly not always confined to young women who have yet to learn that less is more). She got out a book - The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl - and left it lying out on the table whilst she spoke to a friend on the phone. Her conversation confirmed she was around 17 / 18, not only because she seemed to be talking about her plans to go to university, but because I've noticed that more mature women leave private conversations for a more private place than a train carriage. Or, if they choose to conduct such conversations in public, they do it though text message to avoid letting the world know about their love-life confusions. The man with a laptop visibly tried not to listen. I went back to reading Shakespeare. I had a lecture to write.

I made my connection in good time, and found the right train. Unfortunately, I didn't find the coach in which I had a seat reserved - as often happens, that coach wasn't actually part of the train on this journey. I wandered through and found an empty seat opposite a man with Beautiful Eyes and Business Cards. There were too many of different kinds to all be his businesses, and he didn't look like a sharp suited businessman. I wondered what he did for a living. Someone whose MP3 player was too loud sat across the aisle. Two young men started a conversation:


Boy1: I've not been out in Northern English Town in ages.

Boy2: No? You've got to. There's this really great club where all the drinks are One Pound! All night!.

Boy1: Really?

Boy2: Yeah, you can get really drunk on... er... fifteen pounds.

I giggled at this seemingly unconscious display of asserted 'masculinity'. Boy1 didn't seem sufficiently impressed for it to be effective in changing pack positions. I don't think he knew they were competing.

Beautiful Eyes and Business Cards got off at the first stop. I don't blame the Youthful Competitors or the man with loud music, but I was disappointed. Smiles from Beautiful Eyes make a long journey much brighter.

Looking at the positives

Well, I didn't get the job.

But, I'm telling myself that the academic job marking being as it is, I've done well to get an interview. And the feedback from my interview was very positive - in the end, apparently, it was down to experience and I had less than the successful candidate (others were not immediately post-doctoral, which, although it didn't help me get a job, confirms I did well to get an interview).

And it is interview practice. I don't want lots of interview practice before I get a job - that would imply I have lots of time to find a job - but some practice has got to help. It's all experience.

Keep fingers crossed for the next one...

At last

This is a very quick post. More soon on my trip down south and those with whom I shared train carriages. For now though, just a quick post to say I've finally got an internet connection at home! Hurrah!

This might mean more posts. This might mean more time wasted on the internet. It certainly will not mean that I am now available to my students 24/7 (I have come to enjoy not being able to deal with their emails over the weekend and, although I will respond to urgent ones, I don't intend to go back to letting students decide when my teaching-work hours are). I will, however, feel less nervous about working at home because I'll have library and internet search facilities at my finger tips. We take these things for granted when we have them, and when we don't, it's a bit scary!

It has been a long day so I'm going to call that it for now. Now I've got it, I might just switch off my connection again for tonight...

Keeping in Touch

Last weekend, Sees Through the Eyes of Children and I went to our Old School Reunion Dinner. We have been to these events before, but they are usually small affairs with very few people that we know. The good thing, of course, is that we always know someone, when we go together. The Nursery Teacher that Sees Through the Eyes of Children works with also went to our school, although some years before us. Standing alone because my sister had been called away for some committee business (she was in part responsible for organising this event), I waved wildly as Nursery Teacher arrived in the bar of the hotel where we held The Dinner - 'Ooooh, thank you for recognising me!' she said.

Others arrived, but I didn't see anyone from my year. Then Divorce Lawyer with whom I did A Level History (although she was a year above me in school) and Practice Nurse (who was in my class when we were 4, but was 'promoted' to a higher class because she was slightly older when the infant school grew) arrived. They are still in touch with each other - it's clear their friendship has stood strong for the years since school. Still no one from my year group though. Sees Through the Eyes of Children came back, and we spoke to other people we knew and faces we recognised. It was lovely to have so many people of such wide ranging ages in one place with something in common. It seems those from other year groups had not forgotten old arguments and rivalries though: 'You can see who she's with, can't you!' was mumbled to us by someone. The school has been closed for some years now. Maybe it's time to let that go, whatever it was...

Finally, after dinner, Sees Through the Eyes of Children and I found other members of our class. Accountants, Family Workers, all sorts of career choices had come from all over the UK to this gathering. And it was lovely to see them. They're still in touch with each other - much more than we have been in touch with them. There have been weddings (Congratulations!) and sadnesses since we last saw each other, but it was great to catch up with their news and see how they all are. And we talked about those who weren't there, and who had got married and who had children, and whose little sisters were getting married (this last was a little depressing to me in my singledom!). We all had a lovely evening. And it made me want to try harder to keep in touch.

I have resisted signing up to social networking sites like Facebook. I'm wary of how much information about me I put in the public domain, particularly as you cannot entirely delete yourself from Facebook if you decide to leave it. I am listed on Friends Reunited, and receive update emails whenever anyone in 'my places' adds news, but I have not actively used it to keep in touch. I should have. And, as all my schoolfriends that I met last Saturday evening are on Facebook, I might now give in to the peer pressure (not something I do often) and sign up. It seems to be a good way to stay in touch with those you don't see, or who are not close friends, but whose news you want to hear. For the one who is posting the news, it's passive communication. In our busy lives, sadly there is not always the time to write long letters, or speak on the phone to everyone we want to, or indeed to everyone we should. It's both a good and a bad thing about the internet and its communication revolutions that it facilitates such passivity. But some things should be told to people personally (through whatever medium). Time should be made for this. However easy social networking might now be, we should not be careless in our communications.

Our friends should be far too important for that.