*disclaimer: I am a trifle tipsy - not a good state for blogging*
So I was just tweeting...nowt new there (I'm up to 66,954 tweets) obviously but a certain train of thought came up so here's the extended version.
20 Dec 2012 - I first heard of FVK, looked 'em up though "cute...bet they sound like crap then", looked up Palace in Flames and got hooked good and proper! Started thinking about seeing 'em live...
13 Apr 2013 - 1st FVK gig (which also led to me being currently down 98.5 lbs) which entailed much fuckupery on my part. I had decided to go to Oxford being not so far from Reading where liveth my mother...only I cocked it up cos there were no bleedin' trains.
Dilemma: do I go and have to book a room or do I give up?
Answer: I book a room. Really nervewracking cos I'd never done that before. Even worse as due to misunderstanding of chap with limited English I double booked...but the experience was survived and utterly amazeballs so more gigs were booked and a monster was created ;)
Skip ahead nearly a year. I'd decided I'd quite like to see Fall Out Boy but the London date was un-do-able. "Pity I can't go to Glasgow on my birthday" I thought...followed by the thought WHY CAN'T I??? Yep, went to Glasgow. Booked my 2nd and 3rd hotel rooms AND my first flights in the process.
In April I had a city break in Cardiff. In May I had my first ever solo hotel stay in Birmingham. In August I had a summer holiday I organised myself for the first time ever (at age 36) - flights to and from Belfast, three nights in Belfast, three in Dublin, transfers, Titanic Experience, Guinness Storehouse, museums, expedition to the Giant's Causeway...
Then another city break in Bristol, a night in a hotel in Reading in October, a night in a b&b in London in November...heaven knows where it'll end!!!
And if I hadn't decided to see FVK in Oxford the ball would never got rolling. It's weird how hindsight works...the decisions we make leading to goodness, badness, mediocreness...
But decision making is what it's all about. That's what my 'Espantapajaros' tattoo is all about - not letting fear hold you back, not watching life pass you by. Make a decision, do something, drag yourself (kicking and screaming if necessary) out of that comfort zone. I couldn't have done it without the proper motivation...LOOK for your motivation. Find something you want to do or see, something you will get off your arse for. AND DO IT! You have no idea where it will lead but it's all good. Stop overthinking the 'what ifs'...better to have a drama / trauma than a nothing-at-all.
Okay, I know that at my age I should be over this fan girl thing but without FVK my life would be so different. The weight loss is enough to be a lifesaver but the *confidence* to go places and do stuff is a game changer too. Heaven knows what else they've done for me or where any of it will lead me. All I can say is I thank the Lord I did actually look them up!!!
Friday, 21 November 2014
Wednesday, 19 November 2014
Faith and Philosophy and Erni
I am currently working through the second of six text books on my current Open University course: A222 Exploring Philosophy. Book 2 is entitled 'The Philosophy of Religion' and it's giving me issues so I decided to write a blog entry on my issues of faith.
I was raised by agnostic parents. Both had been raised Church of England Christian but both had rejected organised religion. I don't think my dad ever cared for it but I recall attending church as a VERY small child - most likely no more than 3 years old. Religion - specifically Christianity - had very little place in my upbringing. I was sent to Girls Brigade (associated with a Methodist church) because there were no available places at Brownies; I attended a Church of England primary school for less than 2 years after I was pulled out of my previous school due to bullying (and left to go to secondary)...that was about it. Christmas wasn't a big deal in my family and what there was of it was definitely non-religious.
I remember being fascinated by religion - Cathedrals, temples, religious art, ancient faiths...but I never believed in the possibility of a God or Gods. I was most decidedly an atheist although in the 19 years since my epiphany my thinking on the subject has been somewhat forgotten.
Epiphany.The experience of sudden and striking realisation. Yes, that's the right word.
Today I had one of the most positive Twitter interactions in my 5 years on the site. It began with a comment I posted in relation to my OU materials:
I used to be an atheist. But listening to these atheists makes me cringe...such dumbarsery.
The atheists on the audio file may have had good and valid beliefs but the arguments presented were pure dumbarsery. Taken out of context I would have understood an atheist being quite pissed off with that tweet but a tweeter whose bio reads:
replied most politely:
Cool. Thanks for the response. Take care. :)
Given that I am quite used to my views (on any number of topics) being ridiculed or attacked I was dead chuffed that this was so positive. In the 21st century miracles are rather frowned upon but to me that's what happened. Someone else may rationalise it any way they want but it won't shake my belief that some higher power - which I shall call God - was at work.
My Miracle
On January 12th 1996 my daughter Erin was born. Many people consider 'the miracle of birth' to be a profound moment in their lives but my experience was a tad more literal perhaps.
A little background: I was a 17 year old single mother. I was not a happy bunny. I had never wanted children but following an unplanned pregnancy and trauma around a period of homeless and subsequent abortion...well, stuff happened. I was in no way, shape or form ready to be a parent. I was broke and living in a shelter. Life was hell enough. Add to this a pregnancy with repeated infections, hyperemesis gravidarum throughout (extreme morning sickness) and any ache, pain or niggle known to womankind I had really had enough. I had planned my suicide for after the birth due to depression over my abortion, my ex leaving me and my general situation.
Erin was born at 40 weeks +11. I had been induced as I was overdue and my labour had been horribly mismanaged...it lasted, by my reckoning, 27 hours. I was so out of it from exhaustion anaemia and blood loss that I wasn't aware of much at the time but later my mum (who was with me throughout) told me the truth of Erin's delivery. What she told me changed my life.
Erin's heart rate, monitored throughout, kept dropping off with every contraction but the midwife brushed it off...she should have been delivered by emergency Caesarian. The delivery took way longer than it ought to anyway - but they never tried ventouse or forceps either - I was just left to struggle to deliver a 9lb 11oz baby naturally. As it turned out the cord was twice around her neck and once around her body - she had been strangled and oxygen starved with every contraction for HOURS.
My mother described the delivery. Erin was blue and jelly like. She lay on the bed - no movement, no cry, nothing. The midwife DID NOTHING. My mother thought Erin was dead and threw herself on top of me so I wouldn't see.
My mother doesn't do emotion much. I thought it was weird her suddenly hugging me but I thought maybe she was acting the part for the midwife's benefit. In all honesty - if Erin had been dead, at that moment I was far too shattered to give a fuck about absolutely anything. Soz Erni!
Anyhoo, the way my mother told the story is that Erin started going pink. She'd just been left there, the midwife had done absolutely nothing to help or resuscitate her - didn't even check for a pulse. Then, as my mother was on top of me she'd called to my mum to hit the alarm button. People came running and there was a good bit of fuss...eventually I held Erin and there were photos and the usual stuff. But she was not given any particular treatment. They *might* have puffed some oxygen at her but absolutely nothing else.
My mother told me all this later due to concern about brain damage. Erin's father's sister had a baby boy who'd stopped breathing just after he was born - he was subsequently diagnosed with cerebral palsy. So there I am - 17, broke, in a shelter, new baby, stressed, traumatised, broken hearted from my partner's desertion...and now I find out that my baby damn near died at delivery - which to me was the defining moment of realisation that there was a God - and might well be brain damaged.
I'm not entirely sure WHY Erin's survival meant there had to be a God...it just DID, if you see what I mean. She was somehow meant to be here. I felt like I had been given a second chance to be a mother; particularly after my earlier abortion and a subsequent early miscarriage. I forgot about my planned suicide and stepped up to being a parent.
Over the years I watched Erin like a hawk and worried endlessly about her development. Was she deaf? Autistic? She was misdiagnosed as dyslexic at one point... She left school with 11 GCSEs (9 A*-C), passed her A-levels and this September started university. If anything could strengthen my belief that a miracle happened at her birth it would be that. For all that oxygen starvation the only possible indication of damage is that she is colour-blind...however, as her younger sister (full-blood, I was reunited with their father for a time) is also colour-blind and suffered no birth trauma it seems Erin was actually completely unscathed. If that's not a miracle I don't know what is! You might say it's chance or luck or that it wasn't that severe...but simply I can never believe it.
How I define God and what my faith is are topics for another time or never.
I was raised by agnostic parents. Both had been raised Church of England Christian but both had rejected organised religion. I don't think my dad ever cared for it but I recall attending church as a VERY small child - most likely no more than 3 years old. Religion - specifically Christianity - had very little place in my upbringing. I was sent to Girls Brigade (associated with a Methodist church) because there were no available places at Brownies; I attended a Church of England primary school for less than 2 years after I was pulled out of my previous school due to bullying (and left to go to secondary)...that was about it. Christmas wasn't a big deal in my family and what there was of it was definitely non-religious.
I remember being fascinated by religion - Cathedrals, temples, religious art, ancient faiths...but I never believed in the possibility of a God or Gods. I was most decidedly an atheist although in the 19 years since my epiphany my thinking on the subject has been somewhat forgotten.
Epiphany.The experience of sudden and striking realisation. Yes, that's the right word.
Today I had one of the most positive Twitter interactions in my 5 years on the site. It began with a comment I posted in relation to my OU materials:
I used to be an atheist. But listening to these atheists makes me cringe...such dumbarsery.
The atheists on the audio file may have had good and valid beliefs but the arguments presented were pure dumbarsery. Taken out of context I would have understood an atheist being quite pissed off with that tweet but a tweeter whose bio reads:
replied most politely:
What convinced you God exists?
and when I replied with "Personal experience, specifically of a miracle." responded:Cool. Thanks for the response. Take care. :)
Given that I am quite used to my views (on any number of topics) being ridiculed or attacked I was dead chuffed that this was so positive. In the 21st century miracles are rather frowned upon but to me that's what happened. Someone else may rationalise it any way they want but it won't shake my belief that some higher power - which I shall call God - was at work.
My Miracle
On January 12th 1996 my daughter Erin was born. Many people consider 'the miracle of birth' to be a profound moment in their lives but my experience was a tad more literal perhaps.
A little background: I was a 17 year old single mother. I was not a happy bunny. I had never wanted children but following an unplanned pregnancy and trauma around a period of homeless and subsequent abortion...well, stuff happened. I was in no way, shape or form ready to be a parent. I was broke and living in a shelter. Life was hell enough. Add to this a pregnancy with repeated infections, hyperemesis gravidarum throughout (extreme morning sickness) and any ache, pain or niggle known to womankind I had really had enough. I had planned my suicide for after the birth due to depression over my abortion, my ex leaving me and my general situation.
Erin was born at 40 weeks +11. I had been induced as I was overdue and my labour had been horribly mismanaged...it lasted, by my reckoning, 27 hours. I was so out of it from exhaustion anaemia and blood loss that I wasn't aware of much at the time but later my mum (who was with me throughout) told me the truth of Erin's delivery. What she told me changed my life.
Erin's heart rate, monitored throughout, kept dropping off with every contraction but the midwife brushed it off...she should have been delivered by emergency Caesarian. The delivery took way longer than it ought to anyway - but they never tried ventouse or forceps either - I was just left to struggle to deliver a 9lb 11oz baby naturally. As it turned out the cord was twice around her neck and once around her body - she had been strangled and oxygen starved with every contraction for HOURS.
My mother described the delivery. Erin was blue and jelly like. She lay on the bed - no movement, no cry, nothing. The midwife DID NOTHING. My mother thought Erin was dead and threw herself on top of me so I wouldn't see.
My mother doesn't do emotion much. I thought it was weird her suddenly hugging me but I thought maybe she was acting the part for the midwife's benefit. In all honesty - if Erin had been dead, at that moment I was far too shattered to give a fuck about absolutely anything. Soz Erni!
Anyhoo, the way my mother told the story is that Erin started going pink. She'd just been left there, the midwife had done absolutely nothing to help or resuscitate her - didn't even check for a pulse. Then, as my mother was on top of me she'd called to my mum to hit the alarm button. People came running and there was a good bit of fuss...eventually I held Erin and there were photos and the usual stuff. But she was not given any particular treatment. They *might* have puffed some oxygen at her but absolutely nothing else.
My mother told me all this later due to concern about brain damage. Erin's father's sister had a baby boy who'd stopped breathing just after he was born - he was subsequently diagnosed with cerebral palsy. So there I am - 17, broke, in a shelter, new baby, stressed, traumatised, broken hearted from my partner's desertion...and now I find out that my baby damn near died at delivery - which to me was the defining moment of realisation that there was a God - and might well be brain damaged.
I'm not entirely sure WHY Erin's survival meant there had to be a God...it just DID, if you see what I mean. She was somehow meant to be here. I felt like I had been given a second chance to be a mother; particularly after my earlier abortion and a subsequent early miscarriage. I forgot about my planned suicide and stepped up to being a parent.
Over the years I watched Erin like a hawk and worried endlessly about her development. Was she deaf? Autistic? She was misdiagnosed as dyslexic at one point... She left school with 11 GCSEs (9 A*-C), passed her A-levels and this September started university. If anything could strengthen my belief that a miracle happened at her birth it would be that. For all that oxygen starvation the only possible indication of damage is that she is colour-blind...however, as her younger sister (full-blood, I was reunited with their father for a time) is also colour-blind and suffered no birth trauma it seems Erin was actually completely unscathed. If that's not a miracle I don't know what is! You might say it's chance or luck or that it wasn't that severe...but simply I can never believe it.
How I define God and what my faith is are topics for another time or never.
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