Wednesday 26 December 2012

The Dangers Of Arse Wiping With False Nails



So Christmas 2012 has been and gone. 2013 doesn't even seem like a real year. It's as though we are all living in some extremely boring sci-fi film. This would all make sense considering the amount of disfiguring attributes so many women seem to be sporting as of late. I just don't get it. I have issues with a selection of women's "enhancements"...

...The first and foremost of these being fucking horrificly ugly, camel-esque, False Eyelashes. They are truly vomit-worthy. I literally do not know anybody who looks good with them. They are tacky and obvious and just pointless. Everyone has eyelashes. Be good to them and they wont crust off in the wind. Take your make-up off once in a while.
Also, I have come to discover that you GLUE them on. GLUE. ON YOUR EYES. This is clearly madness. It's got to be some sort of viral sci-fi mind infection. There is no sense in it. It's like Chlamydia- even the most unexpected, self respecting women are popping up with them. They truly remind me of some sort of drag-queen cartoon camel. So what if you don't have luscious long eyelashes? I'm sure you have other great features to compensate for it. Plus, I hardly think any man is observant enough to notice your stubby singed lashes in the first place. Chances are his eyes are elsewhere.

Secondly, Scouse-Brows. I genuinely thought this was a joke. I thought "Desperate Scousewives" was a spoof. When I realised that it was real life I felt I could at least feel safe in the more humble area of Pembrokeshire. But no. They are here. THEY ARE HERE. And they are growing, both in numbers and in size. They are like cockroaches on your forehead.
In my humble opinion, they are a sure fire way to make yourself look like a tacksville-tramp. They also guarantee to distract from any other part of your face. Which, if you have some sort of horrific ailment/elephantitis/puss-covered acne - is great. Although, I fear I'd rather any of those things to having, what appears to be two large, hairy shits above my eyes.

Thirdly, Gem Covered Nails. These are both unsightly and, quite frankly, a health risk. Forget gun laws, there needs to be restrictions on these claws. My worry is this: how on earth are you supposed to wipe your arse without injuring yourself? What if you lose a gem mid-wipe? That's surely very worrying.
Also. Masturbation?
Also. Sexual foreplay?
Also. touching anything?
Also. why do you want to look like the witch from snow white? You know the one- with the warts and the long jewelled nails? Maybe I am just far too uncool and I have failed to notice that chav/hillbilly is the new black, and that TopShop are currently unloading crates full of velour tracksuits and ra-ra skirts. Ooh and maybe white-leather thigh boots have made a comeback? Maybe.

Now, New Years is fast approaching and I will make the same resolution I have done for the last six years; to be more ladylike.
I understand that I am 21 and I need to be wearing make-up every now and again. And that shorts are just not suitable winter wear. I must stop leaving my leg hair to grow and properly commit to using a hairbrush on a daily basis.
However; with this in mind, I will continue to despise the above... accessories? feminine aesthetic additives? Halloween-chic adornments? forever and always. And I think there is not a single woman in the world who isn't more beautiful without them.

Happy New Year everyone, I hope 2013 doesn't result in alien takeover and that you all make it the year for your success.



That's all for now
Jojo xxx

Friday 23 November 2012

Reassessing


The Winter is coming and it's not giving Autumn a look-in. It seems to have become Arctic in a matter of weeks here in Tenby. The wind is bitter and ferocious, the sea icy and aggressive. The town itself has become ghost-like. No one seems to be here, no one walking around or drinking coffee or even working.

All this quietness and coldness seems to have infiltrated my conciousness. It suddenly seems like the fall from Summer is over and I've landed hard on the solid cold sand of the beach, the wind slicing at my bare skin, threatening to erase me completely. I'm a graduate with a good degree from a good university and here I am- in Pembrokeshire again, waitressing.
And I know I am here through choice, but it's beginning to wear thin. I'm bored of not using my brain. I'm freelancing but it's not enough to fill this gap that's telling me I'm underachieving.

I know I'll have my time to get serious about work after travelling, and that my priority needs to be saving right now, but it's hard seeing friends I graduated with off doing the real deal,whilst my writing is lying dormant.

The last six months have been so unlike any others in many ways. I've graduated, I've moved back home, I have an uncertain future ahead of me. With no real plans or guarantee's it's hard to be confident about where I'll end up.

I've also had a few revelations. That time changes a lot. And even though you hope someone had stayed the same, it doesn't make it so. And nor does it mean you are the person you once were.

It's easy to get stuck in an intrinsic time warp- believing something or someone is a certain way because that's how you remember it/them. And then the bubble is popped. It only takes one incident or realisation and the reality of the matter forces its way back into your deluded mind, tearing the lining as it breaks through. That's a strange feeling. To suddenly understand that the very thing you've been holding on to doesn't exist as you believed it to.
Fool on you for believing it could be preserved like a diary in a museum. No matter how hard you try to keep it in mint condition, the writing on those pages has to fade eventually, the light of day has to take some of what was written and dissolve it in it's brightness.

It can be hard to be faced with this reality, but it's probably for the best. It's probably going to make some space for a new chapter to be written. Maybe a happier one, without the stress that the chapters before brought with them.

Where friendship turned sour, there are new people for you to meet and find a bond with. And where love faded, so it will be again.

Sometimes it's good to reassess where you are, who you are and who you want around you. Because with that in mind, it's hard to go wrong.



Sunday 28 October 2012

Distance



Distance is a tricky thing. It can be largely immeasurable in some circumstances. For example, someone can be a long way away but you may feel very close to them still. In another sense someone can be nearby and yet you feel undoubtedly detached and out of touch/reach with them.

My pals Grace and Esme live at opposite ends of the country to me and yet I feel incredibly close to them. Like we are in each others atmospheres still. It's as though as long as we are in each others minds and thoughts the distance just evaporates between us. That's how I feel anyway. I may not know the day to day goings on but I do know that if anything important should happen the miles and motorways would be irrelevant. 

 It's more of a hunger, I suppose, when things are romantically involved. It's a more dangerous feeling. A fear of being lost or forgotten, of distance changing what you built. 

It's funny how complex it can become missing someone. It's almost as though they are a figment of your imagination. There is nothing physical left of them. Only memories of their existence stand as evidence and even those can seem to fade and change and dissolve in your mind. 

When I think about someone who I have lost I can imagine them in my mind in a sort of passive way, but when I try to think about what their hair looked like that day, or try to picture their whole face, it goes blurry. I worry that one day all I will have left will be echo's of memories that were never renewed. Left to lose their colour like a picture in sunlight.

Sometimes you can feel the distance growing. Like you are connected by crepe paper and it's slowly tearing and falling away. And you know it's all too fragile to be reckless with. It's too flimsy to grab onto and pull back at. That's the worst kind of distance. The distance that chokes you up. When you can feel it happening but you can't save it. No matter how much it means to you.

Sometimes distance makes you miss someone more. Other times it can sap your energy and you become too tired. Too bored of it and too aware of the affect it can have on you. Like your brain tells you from experience that it isn't worth the mental head-work of ploughing through the day thinking about that person and wishing they were with you. 

Mostly I wish there wasn't distance at all. Mostly I wish I could have everyone near me. Mostly I wish death didn't happen, or at least that I were more prepared for it. 

But I suppose, regardless of what I wish or hope or feel there is very little I can do about the outcome. In the end, distance kind of does at it pleases regardless of how it makes you feel. Like a selfish ex-boyfriend or the Welsh weather or my bank balance.

That's all for now,
Jojo xxx


Monday 15 October 2012

Struggle Street



It is eleven months until my proposed leaving date for my year of exploration around the world, and, after having worked seven days a week all through the Summer and now six nights a week through winter, I am still somehow in the depths of a rather bulky overdraft. I understand that having a free overdraft is the best loan I'll ever get and that I shouldn't be stressing about it but I just want to be in the black and to be saving towards something. Negative money doesn't spur me on so much, as I am only working to get back to zero at the moment.

People all around me are off doing exciting things, whilst I'm here making very little progress, feeling a little left behind with it all. Tess is in Tanzania, Vicky has moved to Cardiff starting a new chapter of her life, Snakey is living in France,  the man I like is off doing things in Europe.
I am in New Hedges, with a tip stealing boss and a wetsuit with a hole in the ass. There's something enormously saddening about that.

This week I've been thinking about couples. Couples who are ready to commit. Most of my friends (and ex-boyfriends) will know that commitment isn't exactly my forte. Don't get me wrong, I am very loyal, but I get claustrophobic. I get this itchy feeling that I'm in too deep when I'm only just paddling. I crave freedom, I need air.

It's starting to worry me recently, am I destined to be alone? There have been many wonderful men in my life whom I haven't been ready to commit to, despite being attracted to them and trusting them. Is it something learned?

It seems some people jump from relationship to relationship without a second thought. I have no qualms with that, as they all seem very happy, I just have to really take my time before I can even consider belonging to someone. Maybe that's the problem- that I think of it as possession rather than just being happy with someone. Or, more likely, it's a product of a 'broken home' with divorced parents and a mother who is just a little more than wary when it comes to men. It probably doesn't help that both my dad and brother have pretty dodgy fidelity records too.

Either way, I would like to be able to imagine being with anyone for a long period of time. Because, ultimately, I want that for myself. I want to start a family one day with a man I love, in a house with a mortgage and bills and council tax. It's the in between bit that's the problem.

Maybe it's a matter of it becoming part of me without my noticing. Maybe it is a maturity thing. Maybe I need to grow up a little before commitment becomes a breeze.

I suppose all this has come to mind because there's always been one person I've assigned that role of big commitment to. Now it seems less likely that this will happen- life has gotten in the way and time changes things quicker than the wind in winter.

Things don't seem the same as they were even two months ago, and it scares me to think I've been flippant with something of such magnitude. I have always lived thinking what will be will be. It all happens for a reason. Everything that everyone does will all make sense in the end. But now I'm feeling there are such things as grave mistakes and I have started to understand that regret can haunt people for a lifetime. This will make little sense to lots of you, but anonymity often creates a roundabout way of explaining things.

On a lighter note. I have met someone that I enjoy spending time with, who I can have a real giggle with and who makes me feel beautiful first thing in the morning. That's not a bad find I reckon. Although it would be nice if I could pick someone who stays in the country for longer than a month at a time.

That's the irony of things like that I suppose. Something out there is laughing at me for protecting my heart for so long only to open it up for guaranteed instability. I was sadder than expected saying goodbye today. Took myself by surprise.

In other news I got some freelance work recently, I wrote words for this and really enjoyed it:

In the Moment by Garmin from Garmin EMEA on Vimeo.

I now have some press releases locally to write and work in China- doing website content and blogs etc for a company out there. Which is all very lovely, as exciting media-related jobs in Wales seem few and far between and I need to stay here for cheap rent so I can save for my trip.

So if you know of anyone who wants press releases, ad's, PR, portfolio writing, copy writing or any of that lot doing, give me a thought, eh? Struggling writer and all that. Sounds romantic but is really just a bit skanky. Could do with having at least one pair of jeans/trousers this winter. My pins are getting chilly in shorts.

That's all for now,
Jojo xxx





Friday 14 September 2012

Becoming Feral


Waterwynch has my heart. It is a small beach down the road from my house, you have to do a little off road navigation to get there so it's often empty. I love having it to myself.
Something about it remedies me. The sound of the small waves falling onto the pebbles on a high tide like tonight is just delicious - the crinkling and shuffling of all the stones being jangled around by the water's undercurrent, sucking back with the pull of the moon.

When the tide is out I usually walk to the cave on the right, it's tucked into this tiny bay, snuggled up to the cliffs. I love how the sea looks from inside the cave; the mouth of it opening out onto the powerful light of the water. I like to climb here too. Nothing too ambitious, I just like moving up high and scaling the edges of my favourite place, seeing it from every possible angle.

Tonight it is a light evening. The sun is low, creating a syrupy blanket of soft light on the water and cliffs. The waves are kissing the pebbles right up close to the stone path that leads back up to reality. My body absorbs the views and sounds and textures as much as it can, they settle something inside me.

Whilst I am here I can think.
I don't come here very often any more. Mostly because it feels like a sacred place to me. I rarely bring people here. I'm protective of it. Like it is a part of me. Like if someone comes here the sea will whisper my secrets back with each lulling of the waves. It feels personal here, intimate.

I usually come to Waterwynch when I'm feeling a little low. Today I'm feeling a little lost. The months following the end of university have been fun, I've worked hard at a job I adore. But there has been something else. An underlying itch, a niggle, an undercurrent. It's asking "what next?".

Other people are asking that too. My parents, my grandparents, my friends, and I suppose I have been as well.

But I just don't know the answer. I don't want to go to a job that I don't have a passion for and end up turning grey inside. I don't want the money and the pencil skirts and that sinking feeling when my alarm goes off every morning.
I want to explore, to see the world. I want to explore my abilities as a writer, decide what it is exactly that I want to do, I want to get to know new friends, see new opportunities and paths. And I don't want to jump into something just because it is what people would want or what is expected of me.

If I'm completely honest with myself I know what's keeping me here in a tiny town with little job opportunities, gossip and extortionate drink prices. It's the sea.  I want to be in it. All of the time; preferably on a board but happily just swimming.
It's gotten so under my skin this year. I ache when I'm away from it, it frustrates me if  I can't get to it and it has started to bother me when there aren't waves.

And I know I can't flounce around being romantic about the sea forever, getting more and more feral as my money runs out, but I want that for now (not the feral part). I will be a responsible young adult and make big decisions and pay council tax one day, but I have the rest of my life to be a grown up. So I am going to enjoy being excited about nature for a while. It could be a lot worse. I could be into hard drugs and dangerous men.

And at graduation when everyone is talking about internships and jobs and their new lives I will be proud of my pals and their achievments, knowing I will one day have mine.

That's all for now,
Jojo xxx

Sunday 2 September 2012

The Sound of Music

My lovely pal and the very talented Grace Dean



Music surrounds us, it can swallow us and mangle our heads. It can persuade us or depress us, uplift us and understand us. Sometimes you'll listen to a song and think that it just must have been written for you at that time in your life. It feels like a sign that your feelings are justified. The truth is that most music is about feelings that we will all experience at some point.

For most of us its okay to listen to the words in amongst the instruments, but hard to face them in silence.

There's something very special about sitting in a dark room with some music on.I often find it hard to identify the feeling I'm experiencing. It can make you feel desperate, like you want to tie something down inside you. Like every fibre of your being is drawn to the sound in the dark, like iron filings to a magnet. 

Music has got to have been around since the beginning of time. It's absolutely human instinct to make noise and beat and tune with things. That's pretty cool to me. 

There are some artists that you will love but your friends don't really identify with. And vice versa. I don't know what it is that attracts us to particular music. Maybe it's like we all have our own music personalities, maybe its intrinsic, maybe it depends on who we are and what we've done and the types of feelings we are prone to. 

So here is a list of my favourite artists this year. You will probably notice a similarity in them as I think I'm an acoustic girl at heart. You might well not warm to them at all. But I would like to give them credit for being the soundtrack to my year.


     ARTIST
1) Daughter - Tracks: Peter, Candles, Landfill, Medicine, Youth, Love.
2) Trevor Hall - Te Amo, Where's the Love, Love Song, Other Ways, Lime Tree, Brand New Day. 
3) Matt Corby - Big Eyes, Breathe, Winter, Brother, Souls a Fire.
4) Alt-J - Matilda, Fitzpleasure, Breeze Blocks, Tessalate.
5) LP - Into the Wild, Levitator, Only Good With You, Tokyo Sunrise.
6) The Bronze Medal - Milk, Autumn.
7) The Naked and Famous - Young Blood, Punching in a Dream, No Way.
8) Walk Off The Earth - Corner of Queens, Broke, Love Sponge (Buju Banton cover)
9) Pretty Lights - The whole album, "Taking Up Your Precious Time".
10) Angus and Julia Stone - All of Me, Mango Tree, Babylon, Paper Aeroplane.

As I said, they might not tickle your fancy but they tickle mine. Music has a way of attaching itself to you and getting to the very core of you. These guys, especially Trevor Hall, did just that this year. 

I think the important thing is that if you love music to surround yourself in it. It's good for your soul. It magnifies your emotions. And yes, it might make you a little dramatic on times (I can't be the only one who has flung myself around my room pretending to be in a music video) but everyone needs a little drama in their life sometimes, and better it be in the form of music than your mum shagging your boyfriend. 

That's all for now
Jojo xxxx

I'll leave you with a classic.



Saturday 18 August 2012

The Rules of Small Town Socialising


Since being back in Tenby I have noticed that the behaviour of locals in a social environment are quite peculiar. I have compiled a list of rules, created by me through observation of the folk of this beautiful little town.

THE RULES

1) You absolute must have an opinion on everyone regardless of whether you've ever met them or not. Small Towns without opinions become barren and tumbleweed starts to...well, tumble.

2) You must drink excessively at least three times a week in order to not disappear off the social ladder. In fact, you must actively encourage alcoholism. The Small Town relies on such revelry to sustain it's ecosystem.

3) You must work your little butt off all week long doing hideous shifts for below minimum wage only to shit it up the wall at an overpriced pub, talking the same conversations on rotation to the same selection of locals.

4) You must be hideously two-faced in order to successfully intergrate.

5) Actually, that's not fair. You could be genuinely nice to everyone. But you must accept that people will choose to dislike you anyway and will probably start rumours about you.

6) Settle with the fact that tourists and customers will talk to you like you are thick as shit. Don't you dare mention your degree/ promotion/ trade. That will make you look stuck up.

7) Face facts: If you are so much as seen breathing near a member of the opposite sex people will assume you are shagging.

8) Grit your teeth and smile whilst handing over £8 to get into what can only be described as a urine-odoured pit disguised as a club. Then joyfully hand over £5 for a measly drink in a grimy plastic cup. Dance to 90's music blasting from a shoddy CD player and cheer when the 'DJ' announces that "Stereophonics' 1000 Trees is next!!" .

9) Observe jumped up boys/ 'lads' mindlessly scrap with anything that moves, throwing punches like a drunk baby with autism. The next day you must claim that you were there/involved/saw someone's jaw snap.

10) Let people who buy their entire wardrobe from New Look snigger at you in your flip flops, tee and shorts. You are a fashion disaster and they are pioneering fashionista's, remember?

11) Become pals with someone in the toilet queue only to overhear them later saying that your hair is shit and that you are a horrific person. You are a horrific person, your hair is shit, but you did hear them do a wet fart through the cubicle door so it's all cool.

12) Men are worth more than your dignity. Shamelessly drape yourself over at least four different men and stare daggers at anyone who so much as catches eye contact with them.

13) Don't even think about talking to anyone who has snogged/shagged/texted/waved at anyone you know. In fact to save confusion just stay mute for the night. These places are so incestual it's the best way to avoid a  vodka diet coke on your chops.

14) Do not be fooled into thinking that Small Town men are less bitchy than the girls. Boy can these guys gossip and stir the pot. Think Queens with homophobia.

15) If you do manage to find someone you are allowed to fancy, come to terms with the fact that complete strangers have the right to ask you if you are a couple/shagging/what it's like. In order for the Small Town cycle to continue it is imperative that everyone knows your business.

Now, reading this you may think I hate living here. But, despite all these ridiculously laughable unspoken rules and habits, I love it here. I love knowing everyone when I walk in a pub. I love wearing flip flops out. I love finding out which school mate is pregnant. I love seeing the same people every time I'm out. There's something communal about it, it feels safe. If you get paraletic and collapse into the gutter, someone will find you and put you in a cab home, or know your mums number to call her.

Ciao for now

Jojo xxx

Friday 17 August 2012

Water - IT'S COOL



I seem to have lost steam for my career, sending e-mails or being productive and found phenomenal amounts of steam for nature. Or water in particular.

I've always felt very close to the water, but this Summer it has become a lot clearer. I am magnetised to it. I get up in the morning, sometimes go for a sea-swim before work, go to work (on a boat) come back to land, go for a swim to clean off, go home, have dinner, then beg my pal to take me surfing. And I just don't get bored of it. I don't seem to feel the cold of the water either. Maybe spending all this time around mackerel (I work on a mackerel fishing boat) is slowly turning me into a creature of the sea.

It's taking up a lot of what I think about now. Water is just so clever. It can be a liquid, a solid, a gas. And waves, they look so solid and yet they aren't solid at all. They are an accumulation of wind energy passing through all the atoms of the sea forming sails and then pushing and breaking. It's just so cool.

I think my friends are getting bored of my insatiable appetite to be flailing around in salt water filled with critters, dirt and, lets face it, my own urine (trapped inside a wetsuit that has a gaping hole in the ass, hot).

Maybe its because it's so primal.You can't exist inside a flower, or underground. But in the sea you can exist inside a natural force.

I'm making it sound so romantic but the reality is that within about twelve seconds I am having a continuous battle with snot. It seems to just be everywhere. On my nose-ring, my cheeks, my eyebrows. Oh, god forbid anyone should see me after I leave the water. I quite often find myself crusting off dried snot from my eyebrows in the car journey home.

Another interesting fact about being in the water is how weeing in it is so fun?! It's really very enjoyable. If someone told me that I had to pee on myself on land I would chortle and flip my hair in disgust (unless drunk). But in the sea the feeling of hot urine gathering around my knees in my wetsuit is just glorious, GLORIOUS.

Also all this water activity is doing no good for the state of my already hideously reptilian-looking feet. They are now not only weird and spindly but also carry about an inch of dry skin and manage to come out of the shower dirty. How is that possible?

I suppose most people will be complaining about all the rain and wind we've been having this Summer. And I'll admit, a bit of sunshine wouldn't go amiss. But hey, when you're in the water you are already wet. You have already ruined your hair. You are already showing obvious symptoms of a cold. So when you start sneezing you will be accustomed to mucus, in fact, it will seem like a holiday as it will be on only your nose area and probably not in your ears.


I have had a really lovely Summer. A really  lovely one. I love my job, I am always in the sea. I work seven days a week so don't spend a lot. I go for drinks in pubs, on sand, in houses and on boats. I am not fat. And to top all that off I've met some lovely new people. Hell life's good.

Although I would like to be out of my overdraft, and to have a working vehicle (the radiators gone on the van). I'd also like to have the ability to pick new friends who are staying on this continent. But you can't have it all.


But it's not just me being jolly, oh no, even the holiday makers seem to see the positives to this dreary August. Picnics on the beach in anoraks. Soggy fish and chips on the harbour. Fishing in howling wind and rain. Sitting in the caravan watching the Olympics surrounded by damp.

So here's to probably the worst Summer on record but to the undeniable determination of us Brits to make the bloody most of it.

HUZZAHHHHHHH


That's all for now,

Jojo xxx

Monday 23 July 2012

Life


Hell I'm feeling reflective today. Maybe it's the time of year, being out on the boat everyday, or having seen old friends recently, but I just feel like everything is, after all, okay.  I feel like the sadness and darkness that I've felt in the past has begun to fade and that things are going to come good. That they are already good.
Why is it that some things just suddenly click into place? It became clear today that everything happens and then it's done. Bad things happen and then, eventually, the scars they made begin to fade.

It may seem like a very typical thing for me to say, what with me now crewing on a fishing boat, but life to me seems a lot like the tide: It rises and falls. Sometimes there's loads of fish, sometimes it's a lonely day at sea. Sometimes people are there for you, sometimes they aren't. The tide will go out, but it's a fact that it will come back in, filling the harbour to the brim, the boats all becoming buoyant. And yes, sometimes the tide is so low you'll be trying to wade out to sea for half a mile and you'll still only be in three foot of water, but you'll get there eventually, and the peace of being out there when you arrive will make it worthwhile.

There is a little Buddhist teaching I read, that I have adopted as my life motto; " Samsara is Nirvana". Meaning, the paddling out is all part of catching the wave. The hard times get you to the good times. So there is something to be taken from every shitty day- you keep trudging through, because what else is there to do? You'll make it in the end.

I feel like I'm home. I'm with old friends who make me remember growing up when I see them. They give me my roots. It's as though, without realising it, I needed to be back here to remind me who I am. Some things will never change and there's some great clarity and joy in that.
The last few years have been a blur of moves and houses but not really any home. Being back here seems to give some relief.


I've been single for a year and three months now and I am content with myself in that sense. I don't feel alone. I get to see my friends and go to work and basically do as I please without having to consult anyone else.

Saying that, sometimes I miss the feeling of skin on skin, one of life's purest pleasures. To feel someone else's skin touching yours brings something out of the core of all of us, I think. It's a beautiful thing that there are all these gadgets and shops and clothes, expensive holidays and fabulous restaurants, but that ultimately, it is us, the human race, that bring the most happiness and pleasure to ourselves. The primitive hard wiring still lingers.


I wonder who that next person for me will be, although I'm not in a hurry to meet them- I have a feeling the universe will do as it will regardless of whether I look for them or not. But it's strange thinking about being with someone again. Being so comfortable with someone. Talking to them, lying with them, the excitement that comes with learning things about someone you are falling in love with.

I was reading a book the other day and I learned that the neurons that are fired up in your brain when you feel that sensation of 'love' are enormously similar to those found in people deemed mentally ill. All logic flees and you are, in fact, crazy about someone. I'm not sure if that's creepy or incredible. Maybe both.

You can take no control over who you fall in love with, or when. You can't stop the shitty things in life happening, but good things will come around eventually and it will all fall into place- like it was supposed to go exactly the way it did.

I guess, in my characteristic long-winded way, I'm saying; "How could it be any other way?"
Trevor Hall says it better:


That's all for now,
Jojo xxx

Monday 9 July 2012

A Life at Sea - The Pro's and Con's



This Summer I am working as crew on a fishing boat, The Four Brothers. It operates daily fishing trips available to the public.
As part of my job I do a bit of fishing, tie the boat off and on to the harbour/mooring, take fish off hooks, gut and fillet them and  also handle the bigger beasts of the sea, should one cop on to an inexperienced rod.
It has been three weeks since I started and I feel there are pro's and con's to this job. Below are the definitive lists:

PRO'S:

1) I get to be on the water all day in the Summer

2) I don't have to dress snazzy

3) I get fresh fish for din din's

4) I can tie a badass bowline knot

5) I know lots of different fish (for when I want to chat up fisherman...?)

6) I'm being active all day long

7) I get to drive a dinghy

CON'S:

1) I reek of fish - not the greatest of attributes for a young, single female

2) I have to stand on a boat in the pissing down rain all day

3) My body becomes covered in mackerel scales, making me seem like some incestual freaky-fish-woman to tourists

4) I have to smile at spawn of Satan kids and pretend to their parents that they are the loveliest things in the whole world

5) During the day the passengers either: insult my intelligence, make jokes about me being a girl doing a 'mans job' or look at me like I'm some sort of dirty cretin (well, that or a lesbian)

6) There is often some absolute moron who doesn't like fish, but thinks fishing is a good idea, so when they catch something they squeal and throw the rod around on the boat meaning there is a 80% chance I am going to get a hook in my back, cheek or tit. And sometimes even a fish in my face (all of these events have occurred)

7) At after-work drinks, when speaking to anyone, my opening line has to be "It's not a yeast infection; I work on the fishing boats" which is repulsive yet necessary.


So there you go, it's pretty close. I love it, although I am considering buying maternity nipple pads (see con #6).

That's all for now,
Jojo xxx

Tuesday 3 July 2012

Overdue Tears at Inappropriate Times.

Nanny, Nannah and I, celebrating my results.

I got my final degree results yesterday; I am now the proud owner of a 2:1 in BA (Hons) Multimedia Journalism from Bournemouth University. I am ecstatic. All the hard work finally seems worthwhile. All the stress, the tears and the tiredness has been made good.

You may be surprised to hear that on receiving this news I wept, with a heavy heart and an emptiness that seemed to fill this whole house. Yes I was happy with my results, I had no aspirations of getting a first class honours. But I got my results with the funeral card of my Grandad in my hand.

Some of you who read this blog regularly might remember a post written on the day of my Grandad's death in March. It might seem silly to some of you that I should still be crying about the death of a man who died at 84; healthy, happy and with great friends and family around him. But I seem to have had delayed mourning. I was, of course, devastated for the weeks following the news, but I was so snowed under with University work and various other small drama's in my life that I had to just get on with it.

 I didn't cry in the company of friends or family (it is, apparently, one of my flaws according to my Mother) as I find it embarrassing and self pitying. I haven't gotten upset in front of my Dad for fear of pushing him over the edge. Since the death of his father he has been hollowed. His voice is so weak and defeated and his eyes break my heart to look into. I just wish I could fix it. And that's a big part of my sadness too- my helplessness, my inability to make anything better when I wish with every fibre in my body that I could bring some light into his darkness, to shine something into those shadows. But I know I can't.

So, although I've cried countless times alone, I hadn't really dealt with it properly. And now it hurts. It aches and it tugs at me. I know all things must pass- my recent delve into Buddhism has taught me to accept that sadness is inevitable and that nothing is constant- but it hasn't seemed to make the slightest bit of difference. If anything it makes me furious (an emotion completely contradictory to Buddhism teachings). How dare any thing, religion or person, suggest that the death of such a great man is just how the world is, that I should accept it.

I know many of you will cringe reading this and think I'm just a whiny little dramatic bore. Well fuck off and don't read any more. Because this is how I feel and that's exactly what I write here.
And no there are no confessions of public humiliations or sexual disasters, but if I were to make it up I wouldn't be being honest. And I don't believe in that.

So this post ends with a note of respect and remembrance. I am so devastated that you are not here to celebrate and be proud of me at such a pivotal time in my life, but I am eternally grateful for the support you gave me along the way and I hope that, in some way, you can feel my love.

That's all for now
Jojo xxx

Tuesday 12 June 2012

Crocodile Tears


So I'm home now. Back in Wales. Back in Pembrokeshire to be precise. It's strange, I can't really write about what it feels like yet because I've only been here a day. I unpacked the van  and put everything into my white, empty room. All my things in drawers and boxes, my mirror leant against the wall and a carpet left bare. In my Uni house I had laminate flooring so there was an array of mis-matched rugs and bath mats scattered across the floor for heat. I think I will have them in here too. It's all a bit normal looking, I like mis-matched things.

I went into the little town where I live today and met Biki. I bought some little 'me' touches to adorn my room with; incense, candles, a little Buddha. It feels important for me to nest here, even though I'm moving to Cardiff in September to live with my Dad and get a proper job.

These past few days have been both incredible and heartbreaking. I had my final University Summer Ball. It's fancy dress and my pal Zoe and I dressed as crocodiles. Our little group all collected together for possibly the last time for pre-drinks in the sunshine (despite all the forecasts predicting rain. Someone's smiling down on us) at Esme's house and then we got on the buses to what can only be described as a mini festival. Music, fairground rides, bars and a variety of food stalls were dotted around the fields filled with thousands of students in fancy dress. It's always such a great day and night. I had the best time running around, dancing, drinking, eating and just being with the best people in the world. No drama's, no worries.

And the following day Esme left for Newquay. It was so hard. Everyone was very emotional. It was like the beginning of the end. Esme was leaving, someone else would leave tomorrow and the next day and the next day, until we were all gone. I wept, no, sobbed- big fat breathless sobs when Esme left. We hugged in the rain, both crying, remembering all the memories we have made together over the last three years. Knowing that no matter how good we are at keeping in touch, things will never truly be the same again.

I drove home, crying all the way. And the next day Grace left. My Twosy. And it all happened again. Grace was the person in uni I could most identify with. Growing up we had the same taste in music, the same family set-up and we both had a slightly bumpy ride at school. We also both had dick-head boyfriends when we were young who, as much as we hate to admit it, left a mark that's faded, but will never quite disappear completely. So Gracey went back to London.

Gracey in London, Esme in Newquay, JoJo in Wales.

It's fucking horrific. I can't help but feel a little empty. Like a plant ripped from its soil. Gasping for breath, some water, some safety. I'm getting upset again thinking about it. And you might laugh, but it hurts my heart. It physically hurts my heart. It gives me a headache. It makes me frustrated. How will I ever be the same without them?

But that's the point I suppose - that I wont be the same. They've left their own little marks, their sayings and mannerisms, their secrets, their humour and their love. Doesn't that make it worthwhile? I reckon so.

This week I am going summer job hunting; early morning chamber-maiding and late night bar work hopefully, so I can get my board back in it's home water in the days.

And I'm not going to plan much further ahead really. For the first time in a long time I don't have to do anything. That's pretty lovely.

I'm excited to see my home friends : Jess, Biki, Bex, Lu, Chazza, Jammy, Jack. It's going to be a great Summer. If the Sun would just bloody come out. Fucking Wales, such a cliché.

Oh! And I won an award for this blog! Only from my course, but I was very happy. And I'm very happy you are reading this. It's just lovely. Thanks.

That's all for now
Jojo xxx

I was singing this song all week for some reason, so it seems apt to put it here. Enjoy!


Thursday 24 May 2012

The End of an Era


So that's it. The class of 2012 are finished.Three years of quite literally, blood, sweat and tears. I know it's been hard; I've cried more over my degree than I have over all the boys that have ever broken my heart, but I'm still sad to see the back of it.
I've met some of my best friends here, my BEST. And now we have to scatter off into the distance. It feels like we are all parts a patchwork quilt, each of us helping to build this dysfunctional safety blanket. But now the quilt is being ripped apart to all sections of the country, of the world.
I know some of us will stay in touch but it's just heartbreaking. My friends are my family here. They understand who I've become, whereas friends at home have missed that bit of me. I still love my home pals; Biki, Bex, Jammy- they aren't loved any less, it's just they've been more involved in a different part of my becoming.

And Bournemouth. Ugly, grey, dusty Bournemouth - the place I've dashed so many times for being too commercial, or too chavy or too English, will always have a part of me. Because it's where I've grown. It's where I've decided what I really stand for, the kind of person I want to be.

I'm sat in my little room in our crumbly house. It smells like tomatoes today (the smell of whatever's been eaten that day graces my room as it's attached to the kitchen) but it just feels like part of me. All my books and photographs and doodles are decorating this once empty box. It's lovely. I'm calm here. I don't know if I'm ready to be calm at home. Have I wished this year away because I've been so busy trying to get away from some things to realise why I'd want to stay here for others?

And what comes next for me? I haven't applied for journo jobs because I want to save next year for travelling in 2014 and don't want commit to anything. But I want to write. I wouldn't over-share every inch of my being on here if I didn't feel the compulsion to write. I like the way the words roll out of my head and into my hands on the keyboard.It's like therapy. I like the way some words rhyme. I like alliteration. I like that I can express myself. I love how some words, when they are truly felt, can make people cry, make them laugh, and sometimes even change their path.


Tomorrow I'm going to the beach with some pals, amongst them my bestie, Esme. She is the most amazing lady. She is kind and funny and she understands. I just know she's got my back. I know she'll also put me in my place if she thinks I need it. We've had a good three years together, I reckon. I can't imagine what my life would have been without her. I've never felt so certain that a friend will be there to hold my children and I know she'll understand that.


The last few weeks I've been getting this feeling in my gut, like I'm about to do the loop on a rollercoaster. At first I thought it was fear- nerves for my dissertation hand in. Then I thought it was relief. Now I think it's change. My life is going to change a lot very soon. I'm going back home, I'm leaving my independence here. I'm moving away from my friends.  I feel like I'm moving back in time. I'm scared all things will be the same and I'll drop down to somewhere I don't want to be. I'm scared I'll feel lost in the familiar. I'm scared I'll forget to carry on being the driven, strong minded woman I've become and go back to being 18 year old me- unsure of myself and of my future. But then I don't suppose there's an awful lot I can do about that.

That's all for now, Jojo xxx



Sunday 22 April 2012

Matt Corby Secret Garden Gig.


Yesterday my friend Grace and I made the trip from Bournemouth to London to attend a Matt Corby secret gig in Harrow. There was an audience of fifty and the performance was in a garden.
So, very kindly, a family had opened up their home to fifty strangers, Matt, his crew and his support act, evanjack . (Check them out, really good stuff)

It was, truly, just breathtaking.
I've never experienced music in a more beautiful form. It sounds ridiculous, but I felt like my entire being was just drinking it in. Like the music was feeding my soul, regenerating my essence.

The guy radiates talent. And he is so easy to be around. He was just sat in the garden with everyone, chatting and chilling.

Now, in comparison, everything sounds so hollow. Which is a shame. But also pretty incredible.
The atmosphere was so perfect. It buzzed. People were just happy to be where they were.

That's the special thing about music, I suppose: that it can instil something special into everyone who hears it. With good music, anyway, it can change something within you.

I have returned so calm and content. Like the storm is over. Like I understand how I feel. It's been a hard few weeks for me and it is so nice to have had something settle me. To comfort me.
It's hard to let yourself be upset about things when those closest to you are hurting too. It makes you man up a bit and concentrate on trying to help them through it.

And then you hit that hard ground before you realised you were falling.

But yesterday made me realise that things will pass. Sometimes sadness will linger but it wont last forever.



Monday 16 April 2012

Revision, Rejection and Rage.




Well what a strange week I have had.
On...uhmmm Wednesday? Thursday?
...Wednesday. On Wednesday I bumped into a guy in uni who asked me for directions to the library. I was going that way so I took him there and helped him with his stuff.

On first meeting he said " I've met you before"
I said " No, I don't think you have"

We later went for lunch at the uni cafe and discovered that we had, in fact, met before -in a club. He does not remember (thankfully) that I chatted him up and he walked away with some false-eyelashed, boob tubed girl whilst I was mid sentence.

I saw this as a good opportunity to make a good second first impression. And a second chance for him to redeem himself.
So we chatted and we got on and I kinda thought he was cool.

Next day he asked me to go to lunch with him but I stayed and worked in the library instead. That night I asked him and his pals to come for some drinks with me and my pals. He came, his friends didn't.

So he came to my house and then Ed and Murray arrived.
Man to girl ratio 3;1.
Then we walked to the bar where we met Dom and his friend (who's name I've forgotten).
Man to girl ratio 5;1.
The bar was too busy so we went to another where we met Dan and Scott.
Man to girl ration 7;1.
Then Callum arrived, completing our drinks group at a monstrous...
Man to girl ratio of 8;1.

This isn't normal. I am aware of that. But it wasn't my fault. No girls are back from home. So I had no choice.

So, as you can imagine this guy is feeling pretty weird and is understandably pretty quiet. After a drink or so everyone loosens up and is getting on well and the guys start talking about my "strange taste in men" and how I like guys with "horrible noses and weird hair".

I wondered why my friends were trying to shit all over my second first impressions. So, when he went to the toilet, I asked them what the hell they were doing talking about my taste in men in such a derogatory way infront of this guy I was trying to impress.

They looked confused and asked me how I knew him. I told them " I met him in library yesterday". Cue screams of laughter (Scott), table banging and shocked faces.
"Who brings a guy they met yesterday to a pub with 7 other men?!"
"What is wrong with you?!"
"He must be so freaked out!"

If I'm honest I over-invited in fear of drinks consisting of me, this guy and one of my friends in some weird, awkward chat, Jo has no friends kinda situation.

Okay so drinks didn't go that well. But this guy was staying at mine because he couldn't get home otherwise. SO. We walked back to mine and when we got in it was so weird. This guy was in my house, in my ROOM. With all my STUFF. I wondered what he thought to it all. Did he wish he'd never come?

So I kissed him and I didn't have sex with him (not through his lack of trying) and went to sleep.
Next day I dropped him off and that was the last I heard of him. (Although he kissed me on the cheek and said he'd see me in uni...what does this mean?!)

Now this is a very unusual situation to be in in the first place. This is a strange series of events.
But what I'm getting at is WHAT THE FUCK?

Okay so you didn't get laid. But it's not like I was grinding on you in a club. You had to stay at mine because of distance and I thought I made out like I was not the one night stand kind of girl.

It's just so tricky. My friends are always telling me I'm made of stone when it comes to guys and that I don't give anyone a chance.
This is the first time in almost a year that I've even vaguely let someone into my personal life and THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS.
I way prefer being a cold hearted, man hating spinster. It's a lot less stressful and it saves a lot of self judgement.

It's not like I wanted to be his girlfriend. I don't. I don't want to be anyone's girlfriend. But Cummaaaannnn. Social etiquette?

I get it that when I go out and men try to buy me drinks and ask for my number they are trying to get laid. But in sober world. Is that okay? Is that normal?
I guess I just expected a little humility. I was kind to him, helping him out and stuff.
Just seems a little strange...but maybe I've just been out of the game for too long.

So moral of the story? First impressions are often accurate, don't show strangers to the library, and definitely DON'T let them sleep in your bed.

That's all for now
An ego-bruised Jojo xxx

Friday 30 March 2012

Life, Love and Loss


Loss

What is loss? " the state of being deprived or of being without something that one has had."

Today I lost someone. The first real loss of my adult life. The first loss I have understood. It leaves me confused. It leaves me hysterical. It leaves me calm. How can someone just go? Just leave. And never come back.

I think that's the worst bit. No warnings, no goodbyes.

How can someone who helped make you who you are for all those years just leave? How will I make him proud now? How will I show him what I can do?

When you lose a phone or a purse panic sets in. When I lost my Grandad I didn't feel panic. I felt emptiness. My brain was looking for an emotion. Trying to identify a way to understand but everyone had gone into hibernation in there.

And then sad came running out faster than I've ever known. Like a train.

Today is so sunny and lovely. It's not pathetic fallacy. But maybe it's whispering celebration. Maybe it's saying love or joy or gratitude.
I have all those things for Grandad.

I feel like today has shifted something. Reality has nestled it's way into my conciousness. This is reality. You can never trust in forever physically.

But if someone comes into your life and wraps you in love and kindness and pride. Unconditional. Then you've won. You've had a taste of the most beautiful thing in life.

It is all very dramatic here. But it feels that way. This microcosm I call my life has changed. The structure is a beam short. And it's irreplaceable.

But this house is still strong. The extra weight, the shadows add pressure, but it can still hold itself this way. Just as long as all the other beams hold together tightly.

Today I have a broken heart. I don't think it will heal as easily as it has before. This heartbreak will stay. But it serves as a reminder of a life I was privileged enough to be a part of.

Rest easy Grandad. you will be missed. You leave here a family in mourning and in pride.
The memories we made will forever leave me happy, grateful and bursting with love. Bursting with love.

That's all for now.

Jojo xxxxx

Thursday 15 March 2012

Why Do You Always Want More?


Why do some people want stuff, Just STUFF? Like clothes and shoes and rings and bags?
Does it really make anyone happy for a long period of time?

Sure I bought some vans last week and I love them, when they arrived I was excited and happy. But I find with shopping that feeling doesn't last. It's so easy to get sucked into it all. It's so easy to want more. More of these things that have sell by dates. Things that you'll get bored of.

It's like we've become so addicted to getting presents and gestures and money so we start doing it for ourselves.
But how have we earned this 'treat' and, more to the point, why do we need it?

Clothes aren't going to change you as a person. They aren't going to make you any nicer, or prettier or more intelligent. They will only help construct an image. An image that's been sold to you. An image that a group of people in an office somewhere have cleverly created. Then it's marketed to make you feel like you NEED those cherry coloured jeans or that backless dress that, lets be honest, you'll be bored of after you've worn a handful of times.

And we are so fucking stupid because it doesn't MEAN anything. It only helps create obstacles socially. It only ostracises people. And it's we that are to blame. It's YOU that made you not good enough for that guy. YOU helped create these rules of style and beauty and image.

Well what does it mean when you get some guy over someone else in a club. It doesn't mean you are any better, it doesn't make them any worse. It just makes you part of it all. It makes someone else out of reach to you.

When you lie down naked on a bed with someone it's all gone. You are a blank canvas and no amount of layers of make-up or freshly bought attire can hide you any more. You have to face up to who you are eventually and I want to be proud of that.

I buy clothes sometimes. I like to look nice when I go out. But I definitely don't think I have the addiction that so many people I know have. And addiction seems like a crazy-strong word to use but that's what I think it is.

It happens more in cities I think. Where shops are everywhere and the high street becomes a catwalk. Where people check each other out and eye-fuck on escalators.

I don't want to live like that. And yeah, that probably means someone else will get that guy in the club but I'd rather earn attraction because of who I am and not what I've created.

I get that some people are passionate about fashion. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's when it becomes about proving yourself through your outfit that it gets a bit dodgy.

You are enough for anyone in the whole world. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to find someone who loves you. But they are going to fall in love with YOU and not what you're wearing.

Wow. Monster rant.

That's all for now.

Jojo xxx

Sunday 26 February 2012

Warning: talks about feelings.


Had a great day in the lovely Bournemouth sunshine today. Although I couldn't help but wish I was back in Pembrokeshire where I belong.

Thinking about Pembrokeshire always leads to thinking about people at home and that always leads to thinking about someone in particular.

This is the thing with being in Uni. You have a split life. And your feelings about things at home never really move along. It's like you go home, press play, things happen, and then you leave and time pauses again until you return.

I'm not saying things don't change at home when I'm gone, I'm just saying my feelings don't change whilst I'm away.

And every now and again when I'm down here in Bournemouth going about my day to day business, things, things just pop into my head. With no encouragement, no catalyst. Why is that?

It's so confusing. It makes me think about my future and who I want to be in it. And I have no place in assuming these things. I have no reason to think it would even be logical. So much has changed since all those years ago, yet my mind is still pulling me to it, like a dog on a lead barking at a toy just inches out of its reach.

Bloody annoying, I'll tell you that for free.

But the weirdest bit of all is that it will all just go away. I wont feel that way about things any more. I wont get this unstoppable train or reminders and panic that I've done something ridiculous that I can't take back. It'll all just go. Until next time.

Well this is incredibly embarrassing to be sending into the world. But maybe a few of you will have a laugh and maybe some of you will understand.

That's all for now (thank god)
Jojo xxx

Thursday 16 February 2012

Teach Me How To Dougie






Please, just teach me. I have been trying for some time now and it's really putting me at a disadvantage downstairs in Lava.

Trying to do it is even more embarrassing than just standing there on the dance floor bobbing about aimlessly.

I swear I used to have more fun when I was out. And I definitely used to get more drunk.
I'm never really drunk any more. And if I'm not really drunk I can't smooch boys. Which is EXACTLY what I want to be doing. Especially the one's that can dougie. We could dougie and smooch at the same time if I could just learn to do it.

Life is so hard sometimes.

If I lived in a perfect world boys would like brunettes. Boys in clubs would not grab your vagina as you walked past (?! Seriously, when did this become common place?).

Boys would say 'hi Jojo, you look lovely. Lets have a boogie. Let me teach you how to dougie.'

And I would say, 'Okay, I'm glad you think I am worth having a boogie with.'

But this is not the case. Boys like to grab vaginas. I really don't understand it, it's not really an easily grab-able part of the body. And I can't imagine it really does much for someone. Maybe it's like when girls Try Before They Buy....

For those of you who don't know what Try Before You buy is:

Quite simply it's when a girl touches a boys willy to decide if it's worth putting in their hoo hoo or if it is a waste of a number.

I personally am not a Try Before You Buy kinda girl. I don't really know what kind of girl I am.

I think I am a girl who likes boys with curly hair and kind eyes. But it's not really working out for me. Is that really too much to ask?

I don't want a boy with a big wallet and a huge wanger or a nice car or good skin.
I don't see the problem.

Last night me and my house-mate, Twosy, went out with the intentions of being shallow and just smooching sexy men instead of trying to work out who was actually a nice person. It didn't work. We whittled it down to these problems:
We weren't blonde.
Or boobless.
Or drunk.
Or virtually naked.
Or grinding on anything vaguely stable (walls, men or chairs are all apt obstacles to grind on, we observed)

But I don't want to be any of those things.
Alright, I'd like to have a smaller forehead and normal length toes and a flat stomach.

But I don't think I'm ugly. Jesus, I do not advise anyone to start thinking about that sort of thing.

Earlier I looked in the mirror for so long I couldn't see my face anymore for all the faults I'd picked. It just isn't worth it.

It's a sad fact to have to face...but the fact is that you must be either easy or jaw droppingly perfect to get a chance with sexy boys...or any boys in fact. They have become far too picky.


Also I would like to stop fancying inappropriate men.
CheersThanks.

That's all for now, Jojo xxx
This post was written listening to : Gym Class Heroes