Wednesday 3 December 2014

HOME SWEET HOME

Amount of days have been back in UK:  6
Amount of degrees Celsius temperature has decreased: 20-25
Amount of times have been told I sound ridiculous: 8
Amount of voice I have lost: All (plus testicle-sized tonsils)
Amount of glasses of wine from one bottle: 2 (very full)
Amount of times have youtubed Taylor Swift in attempt to become more cheery: 80953064987325
Amount of people in Pembrokeshire on a Monday night: 4 (including bar staff)
Amount of Nannie's cake eaten: 6 slices
Amount of very buttery pieces of toast consumed: 6
Amount of pimples acquired due to cold/wine/butter/cake: Infinite
Amount of friends still within 100 mile radius: 2



Monday 17 November 2014

The Tears Begin


It's a warm but overcast morning here in Manly, Australia. I've just waddled back from an early coffee date with my beautiful friend, Ellie, and I find myself with those tickly tears in the backs of my eyes. Waiting in the wings.

It's nine days until I leave for home, you see. It's a terrifying feeling, this one. I've built a life here now - with friends who understand the new version of my self, who have seen me shift and move and transcend into my current state.
When I get home no-one will have this context. Maybe no-one will quite understand it, or me, or us any more.

How am I supposed to fit back into my old life? I'm not the same shape that I was. Shit, I'm not even in the same bloody puzzle.

The last few months have been a truly special time for me. I have explored a bit of this beautiful country. I have laughed until it hurt, almost everyday. I've moved to a busier, more exciting part of town and have been lucky enough to be surrounded by incredible people, who have offered me love and friendship, regardless of my ever-looming expiry date here.

I have found myself in friendships that I genuinely believe will last a lifetime. With people who I feel I was destined to meet. People who have supported me and helped me to heal. Never failing to love me or to offer me a bed for the night when things have been hard.
But more than that. People who see the real me - past the 'I'm okay, everything is fine' pretences. Beyond the self depreciative digs and the distraction techniques. People who have the ability look into my soul, to see all my secrets when they look into my eyes. And when I know that they're onto me, I instantly start to heal.

I know that when I get home everything will be fine. Everything will shuffle and slide back into place eventually. But maybe that's what I'm scared of - returning to the life I left. To feeling cramped and lost and uncertain. To feeling like the world was just going to swallow me up without even leaving a mark.

I want to do something good. I want to leave evidence of my existence. I don't want to feel my fate is to be only vaguely successful. I want to grow in my writing, I want to explore and expose myself to things that can enrich me and inspire me.
I know it's down to me, and that hard work is what leads to such successes, but I often felt I was being washed beneath the waves of the world in the UK. Like London's fiery snarl and Wales' drowning stillness would quietly extinguish me and all my hopes and aspirations.

When I graduated I sat in a hotel room with some of my best friends and we played a game. Someone asks a question - for example - 'who is most likely to become famous?' and then everyone closes their eyes and points at the person they think matches the criteria. Then everyone opens their eyes and you all laugh and it's just great to be alive, isn't it?

We are playing this game and someone says  'who do you think will be the least successful?' (which, to be honest, I was kind of horrified at. Bit of a mood killer don't you think?). So I closed my eyes and pointed to myself. I opened them to see everyone else had pointed at me too.

I laughed it off, but I wanted to cry. Graduation was supposed to be the best day of my life. I'd worked so hard to get there, and now here were all my friends, expecting me to fail. Those people were, and still are, incredible friends to me and I know that there was no malice in their actions, it was just an unfortunate situation. But I think I lost a lot of confidence in that moment. I think I became instantly terrified to fail. And still am. I still wish no-one had asked that sharp question and I still desperately wish I had opened my eyes to a different scenario.

But maybe that confidence will come back in time. Maybe I'll become confident in my writing and my abilities to succeed. Maybe I'll be brave enough to take a risk and maybe that will pay off. Maybe.

Australia has not been the best year of my life. In fact, there have been some very dark times here for me. Times that made me wonder if I'd ever really be happy again. Times that have changed me forever. But it has seen me grow and evolve and toughen up. It's seen me become more independent and resistant. It's seen me learn what it is to 'bounce back', and that, really, there's no 'bouncing' involved - it's more like dragging the limp weight of your body up a cliff.

However, Australia has also brought me love and friendship and adventure. It's brought me excitement and light and happiness. I guess it's brought me exactly what I needed. And I will never forget the kindness of others I have experienced here. It literally takes my breath away to think how god damn lucky I have been to encounter the people I have. I will be eternally grateful to them.

I am sincerely heartbroken to leave, but so grateful that I ever got to  be here.

And the next chapter begins.

All for now,
JoJo 
x




Sunday 10 August 2014

Chapters



We often refer to our lives as being split into chapters - being a child, a youth, an adult.  When we look closer we see that we close and open chapters on a regular basis, be it in work, in love or in friendships.

Throughout the space of a year so much can change and so many chapters can be read and forgotten.
In this year alone I've felt myself change and grow. I've been sad and found happiness. I've missed friends and met new. I've been in good moods and bad moods. I am an ever changing canvas, a lava lamp of decisions and movements, always transforming.

And now I find myself in such a dramatically different state to how I arrived in Australia. I have made a life for myself here. It has details and shading, friends and memories, work and routines - a special fingerprint in this community that's just for me.

Soon I leave for India, a place that will no doubt shake me up and make me re-consider all of my beliefs and judgments once again. And I feel happy. I feel happy to go and see something I could never see here.

There are some times  in life that you struggle to leave behind. Those chapters where you find yourself constantly re-reading the same page, hoping for a different ending while the story twists and turns unexpectedly. It's okay to not want to let go straight away, to try and devour all that beautiful prose like a toddler licking her fingers. It's okay as long as you know that no matter how much you want to re-live it, you can't re-write it. That way, one day you'll let it go. You'll remember how much you liked the characters and the emotions but you'll know that it is in the past.

I feel as though I am floating in that blank page between chapters. Like I'm that breath as you turn the page - two chapters sharing a moment.

When I fly back to the UK in December, I know I will feel a great sadness to leave Australia and my year of freedom behind. I will almost definitely cry knowing the miles that will soon separate me from some truly incredible people.
I will feel such sadness at leaving my best friend behind. A person who taught me how to love honestly, with blind adoration and passion. A person whom I adore for their capacity to love. But this is how my story goes.

I guess all we can do is try to make the book of our lives a good read.

That's all for now, 
JoJo 


Sunday 8 June 2014

My Patchwork Quilt



There is a saying that goes like this: " You are the product of all the people you meet".

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. About how everyone you meet has some effect on you and your life. And vice versa too - everyone who meets you takes something from you, and absorbs it into their own world. 

Since being in Australia I have had some hard times and some good times. This much is to be expected when you go to the other side of the world on nothing but a dream of romance. But lots of good times have been as a result of  kind people reaching out to me with love and blind, un-selfish goodness. 

Nobody knew who I was here, no one knew anything about my history or my family, they had no context. And yet they still held their arms open and welcomed me into their lives. That is not something to be taken lightly. Luckily I am not a murderer, so it kind of worked out for everyone. But still, risky business. 
I think about the friends I have made here, who have made my time here a good time. They have been a patchwork quilt of kindness and protection, always listening and loving, making sure that I don't feel alone. And I think about how much difference they have made to my life in such a small time. It astounds and humbles me.


On the flip side to that there are the people who make me feel like I'm lost in my own life. Those people form and re- instate my insecurities and paranoia. People who call you a friend but don't do any of those things that a friend is supposed to do, like be interested in your life, or show that they care rather than just saying it or writing it down. 

I t's hard to love someone when they don't love you back. It's hard to keep trying when no-one's meeting you halfway. It becomes hard to love yourself too. There is a sense of exasperation in everything you do, because that person continues to let you down.
The pain that feeling gives you settles in you somewhere, and it grows and evolves into something that becomes a part of you. It hides away, making you feel like you don't own it, but it is in the echo of your resistance and your anticipation. It is in your unfamiliar bitterness - a cold and sharp shard of you that you didn't have before.

I think that phrase: " You are the product of all the people you meet" should help us to be nice, on the most basic and beautiful level. You don't have to go saving baby animals from burning houses or giving all of your belongings to an orphanage. You just have to think about how you make other people feel.

You've also got to be sure you aren't surrounding yourselves with people who don't make you happy. To not hold onto something that doesn't enhance your life in some way. And sometimes that is the hardest thing - to let go. To admit to yourself that you can't make it work anymore. That you are spending more energy trying than actually being. 

Today I am grateful for all of my friends, old and new, who have had such a profoundly positive influence on my life. Every little ounce of them that makes up me is beautiful. They teach me everything I know. I hope that I have a similar effect on them. 

That's all for now, 
JoJo xxx


Wednesday 16 April 2014

What I Left Behind



It has been over four months since I left the UK. That is quite hard to believe when I say it out loud.

It seems like time has kind of frozen - that if I returned home right now, everything would be as I left it.
I imagine my handsome Dad in the kitchen of his flat in Roath making a beef stew, secretly nibbling on biscuits as the rain throws itself with reckless abandon at the windows.
I imagine my beautiful Mum at the breakfast bar of her house in Tenby, talking to me whilst I pour my cereal or drop tea bags into mugs.
I imagine my nephew staring into my eyes, his own like saucers of never ending love and innocence, his podgy hands and arms held up to me, with a smile spreading across his perfect cheeks.

But the reality is quite different. By the time I get home things will have changed. They already have changed, and I've got over six months before my return.
My Dad is no longer snacking on biscuits but is back into training, and the sun is streaming through the windows in the morning, like a bird spreading it's wings to full span.
My mum has just accepted an offer on her house and is probably starting to pack bits and pieces away into boxes, welcoming in the next chapter of her life. She will be saying goodbye to the home that has housed so many of our everyday yet incredible memories.
My Nephew will have grown inches taller, will have new mannerisms and habits. He will hardly remember me as a physical being, but rather a face on a screen that he is forced to interact with every few weeks. The familiarity that he once associated with me will be so far forgotten by the time I next see him. He will be talking and drawing and doing so much more.

My Grandparents will be a year older, they too might remember a little less or see a little less or hurt a little more, the aches and pains of age slowly but surely growing stronger.

These are the things that scare me the most. The things that I have no control over. The inevitable things that I was forced to consider before I left. The things that didn't stop me from leaving them behind.

And although writing them down (so that they are quite literally staring back at me from the screen) brings that sour taste to my throat and that tingling wetness to my eyes, I know that I have done the right thing in going on my little adventure. It hasn't been easy, but I am really, truly happy now. I have some great friends, and I am starting to see a little more of this beautiful country, that I had no previous interest in before I got here.

I am saving to go to India in August. I will be heading to Rajasthan first, I hope to move around a bit for a month or so and then return to Australia again in October, before flying back home in November.

I can't say that I have loved every second of this journey, or that I would do it all the same if I had another shot at it. But I have found happiness here regardless of the obstacles that have confronted me. And for that, I am very proud of myself.

I miss my family and my truly incredible friends more than I could ever have anticipated, but I know that their love surrounds me and protects me wherever I go.

That's all for now,
JoJo xxx

Tuesday 11 March 2014

How You Piss Your Waitress Off

Don't Push Me...
I've worked in hospitality on and off since the age of 12, when I flooded the cafe I was washing dishes in. Since that time I have developed a seasoned hatred for people who do the things that I will list below. I am sure that I am not alone in this. Here is a list of things that your waitress/server/chef will think you are an entitled fucking moron for doing:

1) Asking to swap ridiculous things. For example (in a stupid voice of your choice) "Guhhhh, can I swap the lettuce for some steak?", "I want to swap my half a tomato for two sausages". Also this type of request will induce a good eye roll: "I'll have the steak, medium rare, but more on the medium side with no blood but pink in the middle, but not so it's tough".
THE MENU IS THE MENU. THE CHEF KNOWS HOW TO COOK A STEAK. GO HOME AND COOK YOUR OWN STEAK IF YOU'RE THAT BOTHERED ABOUT IT.

2) 20 minutes before opening time: *marches into the shop* "Are you open? No?!" *huffs* "Well can you just quickly make something up for me? Just quickly? I drove all the way here? I know you don't have all the ingredients but can you just put this, this and this into a bowl please?".
NO. We are not open yet, if we make you something, other people will think we are open, in fact someone has just seen you and has walked in behind you. I WANT YOU TO DIE.

3) When a restaurant/cafe/bar is incredibly busy and clearly understaffed, it is not okay to stand at the front of the queue pondering over your decision with complete disregard for the customers waiting behind you. You had 20 minutes in the queue to decide, you should know what you want. If you don't know what you want I would recommend you step aside for someone else to order until you are ready. And to avoid a head injury.

4) When something that you want is sold out there is really nothing to be gained by aggressively whining and complaining about the fact that it's the only thing on the menu you want/like. There is literally nothing I, or anyone else, can do about there being none of it left.  I have apologised that there is none left, but it really is not my fault, and staring at me angrily and not saying anything will not make that thing spontaneously exist in front of me. Go home.

5) Similar to number 2: Don't come in 5 minutes after closing and ask us to make something for you. It's hard for us to say no, and if we do say no and you get shitty with us, I would genuinely fear for your life on your walk home.  We are closed, it is not my fault that you were going to be on time but then you forgot your purse so you had to go back home. It certainly is not my fault that you got our opening hours wrong and thought you had time to spare, and I genuinely do not give a shit that you have been looking forward to it all day. While you have been drinking wine with your friends in your fancy beach side apartment, I have been sweating my tits off since the early hours, getting burned, complained at, and have needed a piss since 11am. I would very much like to go home, have a shower and put a big, curly straw into a wine bottle.

6) When you order something, and then when it arrives, deciding you don't fancy it and coming back and complaining, saying you ordered something else. You made your order, I WROTE IT DOWN, I checked it back with you, I even explained a little about the dish to make sure you knew that it was a bit spicy/creamy/small and now you are making me look like a dick in front of my colleagues and my boss. You ordered it, you don't like it, tough shit - it's yours. But as my boss is here I have smile at you, apologise and get a new meal made up for you. You respond with a huffy thank you and that completely transparent sheepishness that shows me that you know what you did, but that you are too much of a spineless, spoilt brat to admit it.

7) Not saying 'please' and 'thank you'. It is literally the easiest thing to do in the world. Don't look down on me because I'm serving you. I don't look down on you because your lip job clearly didn't go as you'd planned and your husband is sleeping with his secretary. So just be nice, yeah?

8) Coming to the counter, completely ignoring me when I greet you, and instead calling after my boss whilst he is working. 'Hi Ben! Hi Ben! Ben! Hi! How's it going?'. He doesn't care - you are literally paying for his car and his wife's new dress. You are a walking fifty dollar/pound note to him. NOW, tell me what you want and give me the money so I can do my job.

9) You come in once a week and you expect me to remember your name and your order. We serve over 200 people a day. Your face means nothing to me, and I have absolutely no idea what 'the usual' is. I'm sure you are a lovely person, but trying to act like a celebrity in  a salad bar is quite sad. Just come in and order what you want. Like a normal human being.

10) Telling me there's a few tables that need clearing when the shop resembles a fire evacuation in a high school with a large special needs department. I am painfully aware of the fact that I would benefit from becoming a cross between an octopus and Inspector Gadget, but I can only do one thing at a time.

11) If we can't do something gluten free/vegan/nut free, don't give me that look that is usually reserved for a rotting carcass infested with maggots. I didn't write the menu, I don't cook the food and, although I empathise with you, I really don't have any patience reserved for listening to you angrily complain about the injustices of your life with IBS.

On the whole I like customers, and they are pleasant and considerate and understanding. It's just that the minority of arseholes can really give me the shits.


Also, a tip wouldn't go a miss 

That's all for now, 

JoJo
xxx



Monday 17 February 2014

Travelling: It's Hard Sometimes, Okay?




It's been over two months since I left Wales for Australia and adventure. It's been an interesting time, and not always the easiest or happiest. I never expected a move like this to be easy, but I hadn't imagined it could be so hard either.

The biggest thing that I've learned is that just because you speak the same language as someone, it doesn't mean you aren't going to experience cultural differences. Just because you are outgoing and friendly, it doesn't mean it will be easy to make friends. And just because you are in love, it doesn't mean life will remove obstacles for you.

I've been afraid to write a post about finding life here hard, because it kind of feels like defeat, like I'm not worldly enough, like I'm not cut out for travelling. But the truth, I think, is that everyone living in another country experiences many of the same problems and difficulties as I have and do, but they don't want to talk about it. There is this pressure to be having the time of your life, to be lying in the sun drinking cocktails and making memories every second of every day. But that just isn't the reality. So much of this adventure is incredible and beautiful, but some of it is hard, just like life at home.

It wasn't until very recently that I made any friends of my own. And it wasn't easy to do, living in an intrinsic community where everyone already has their own friends. I ventured an hour away to a backpackers haven with my book and went and sat in bars until someone invited me to join them. And it worked. But even as an outgoing person, it kind of took a lot of lady-balls to put myself out there like that. I am just lucky that some lovely people saw me and understood my call for help, as such.

Having an independent social life is very important to me, I need to have my own friends and hobbies to function as a normal human being. And credit where credit is due - my man-friend has had to put up with a fair amount of crazy from my previously socially-deprived self. I can kind of lose grip on my own mind when I have to process all of my feelings intrinsically. And I'm happy to admit that as a flaw in my personality. My mind just bloody thinks too much when it doesn't have other minds to stabilise it and reason with it.

But things are looking up: I've met some lovely people, who I can see have good hearts and good intentions, and who understand what it's like to be floating about on your own in the midst of life away from home.

I should say, in fact, I NEED to say, that things are not  'bad'. I am having a glorious time. I've got a good job, a great internship, a nice house to live in, a good man, bloody lovely weather, well behaved skin, and new friends. I have seen some beautiful places and enjoyed some really special moments since being here. I am living a magical existence here. And I am careful to count my blessings and be grateful for all of the things I have been afforded in life.

I guess that what I'm trying to say is that it's okay to find things hard when you're away. It's okay to miss farting on your best friends face whilst hungover. It's okay to miss your two year old nephew and to worry desperately that he will forget about you. It's okay to miss pissing-down rain and hat hair and complaining about the weather.
Bloody hell, I miss my family more than anything, I miss the feeling that their love gives me - that feeling that you are floating in a protective layer of unconditional support and kindness. And I know they send it to me everyday, but there's something special about drinking wine with your mum in your pj's watching some weird, low budget film wrapped in blankets. There is something special about trying to be a grown up with your Brother, when you know you have the most fun just winding your parents up and pissing each other off debating bloody recycling. Nothing is the same as a cuddle off your Dad when you're having a shit day, even though you're 23 and it took you bloody 20 years to work out how to have a functional relationship with him to start with.

I have a really, really special person by my side here. I wont write too much about him because I can only imagine the cringe it must induce having a girlfriend who writes publicly about periods and farting and FEELINGS. But he's a good egg, that boy, and I think he deserves a blow job.

That's all for now from a reflective, dangerously honest, but happy JoJo

xxx