The tale of two half-lives

I arrived in Sydney reeking of heartbreak and hopelessness. I was hurting, I needed to feel good about myself, and I thought Australia could give it to me. My impromptu trip to my second 'home' here on the Northern Beaches was an attempt to mend a broken heart, and in some ways it has done that. Time to myself, away from the everyday pressures of life, has given me time to process and come to terms with the loss of someone that my heart was desperately holding on to.

But despite the cathartic closure I have found, there still remains a niggling unsettledness in me and my time here. I couldn't put my finger on it for a while, but now I understand. For the past four years I have made my way to Australia, each year saving all my money and pining for the life I have made here.  For four years I have yearned and wished and clawed at Australia. But in those years, in trying to be here and too in being here, my life has remained static. I have travelled all these miles, year after year, and yet I have been standing still. And that is no way to live a life.

Actively avoiding romance and consciously being closed to non-Australian love, in order to avoid complications, has left me colder and harder than I have ever been. It's made me even more cynical, even more indignant and even more stubborn. And deep down I know what we all know: that everyone on this earth just wants to be loved. That I want to be loved too. In willfully thrusting myself into this sticky limbo-life, I have been keeping it out. What a ridiculous trade off to make.

I have been closing the door on love, in order to try and open a door to a life in Australia. But when that door to Australia opens, and I really, really look at it, I find that the room is empty - it has nothing to offer me. And so I am left with neither. Standing in a corridor of doors that won't open, all alone.

I'm not sure what I was looking for here. Maybe it was just something different to my life in the UK, maybe it was the idea of being on the other side of the world. Maybe it was an escape from the fact that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, so pining after a country was easier than admitting I didn't have a fucking clue what to do next. Whatever the reason was, there is nothing left for me here.

I have never felt truly at home in the UK, and coming to terms with the fact that my home isn't in Australia either is scary. But it's better to know and be able to keep searching, than to accept a life that I don't truly love.

So now the time has come to move on, to close a chapter that has pretty much ruled my life since 2013, to accept that I can't find something that isn't there. The friends and memories I have made here are beautiful beyond words, and thinking about leaving this place behind breaks my heart, but Australia doesn't have what I need.

I cannot go on living two half lives, for two half lives do not make me whole.

And whilst I am truly sad to walk away from this part of my life, I am filled with excitement for the adventures that await in my search for 'home'.

JoJo

x

Seeing The Funny Side

Yesterday marked seven months since my accident, and although it sucks most of the time, there's also those moments when I can't help but laugh at the desperate hopelessness of everyday situations. Here are ten observations that have forced me to see the funny side.


1. Bathing - You can't shower in a boot because you aren't allowed to get them wet, and even if you were they are so chunky that you become about six inches off balance which would no doubt end in disaster in a small and slippery space. So I take baths. The first problem with this is actually getting in said bath with only one leg. I have now mastered the one-leg tricep-dip immersion technique (I have nearly drowned several times as my hands slipped on the wet sides of the bath, my dry leg acting as a weight above me, keeping me under, but I live to tell the tale). So once I've clumsily lowered myself into the bath and nearly drowned, I look around me for, say, the shampoo. The shampoo, which of course, is on the top shelf of the storage rack. I can't reach for it because my dry leg is wedged against the wall, stopping me from being able to move forward. So, out I come again, dripping wet, naked, on one foot standing up and reaching for the shampoo that seems just out of arms reach, the whole time my good leg threatening to slip beneath my unbalanced weight. I successfully retrieve the shampoo and go about my bathing business.

Getting out is much easier - I just have to push up on the sides of the bath, whilst simultaneously bringing my wet leg out and balancing on the side with my dry leg in the air to avoid weight bearing. Then I just try not to fall back in whilst standing up,try and get to the towel before all the water drips into my bandages and make a weird naked crutch race to my room, where I can begin the sweaty chaos of getting dressed with one elephant sized leg, which is conveniently just a liiiitle too big to get any of my clothes over.

2. Carrying Things - If having crutches has any perks, it's that you can't carry food, and therefore are forced into a diet. I make a cup of tea, realise that I can't carry it and sit on the kitchen floor irritably sipping amongst the crumbs and the smooshed peas of the cold tiles. I once tried to push the mug across the floor with gentle taps of my crutch, inspired by the great curling athletes of our time, but the tiles are uneven and my crutch is unsteady and I got about ten inches from my destination when it tipped over and stained the edge of the carpet.
I have become extremely good at fitting objects into pockets, bras, the boot and my gob, to enable me to move items from room to room. I tried carrying a shoulder bag but it just swung around perpetually hitting either me or the crutch and was very, very annoying.

3.The time I was at a potential suitor's house and as I was coming out of the toilet and into a room full of people, my crutch slipped on the water dripping from my washed hands and I fell over. Properly. I wont elaborate on this, it's too painful to recall. Lets just say it's hard to get back up off the floor with crutches.

4. Watching a spider climb into my bandages and not being able to reach around to try and stop it due to lack of ankle movement. Feeling a paranoid tickling feeling in different areas of my foot, (including my healing wound) for hours later. Having thoughts of a million baby spiders hatching inside my wound and pooping in my blood. Update: spider has still not re-emerged.

5. Feeling that, although the crutches minimise food intake, I might get incredibly fat just lying/sitting around all day, and envisioning my future in a documentary in which they have to cut me out of my chair and use a crane to lift me out of my house due to extreme obesity.

6. Getting Drunk - Having nothing to do means getting drunk is a more frequent activity. Not super drunk - just tipsy enough to find things amusing. This is fine when done from the safety of my own (Mother's) home, but if I am taken on an outing that requires using my crutches after a few drinks, I am extremely unsteady. Luckily, no one imagines me to be drunk at midday on a Tuesday so, people assume I'm wobbly because of my injury, and not because I drank three double gin and tonics on an empty stomach and am now navigating my way back to the table with extra bad balance and battling through my own version of  The Beach montage, in which Leo is off his tits running through the jungle.

7. Dropping Things - If I drop something, or knock something off a counter, it's gone forever. I have found peace with the loss of many hairbands, snacks, coins. The risk of death whilst trying to balance and squat my way down to the floor is far too high. Now I just whisper "goodbye my friend, thanks for the memories" and move on with my life.

8. Social Life - My friends in Cardiff had already nicknamed me 'The Lone Wolf' for my flakiness and tendency to go off the grid for weeks at a time. But now I think they all suspect me dead. It's really hard to get about when you can't drive but also don't live in walking distance to public transport. "Have a drink for me" and "I'll catch you next time" are now saved templates in my messaging. Add to that the minimal phone signal at my house and I may as well be a myth. I will return to the real world next year, go on without me and await the Joey re-birth in 2017.

9. Dating - When your Tinder profile sells you as an active, enthusiastic outdoorsy type but in reality you can't walk, things get a bit awkward. Especially when a sit down date, looking at each other and eating is the most alien thing in the world to you. This results in me dribbling sauce on my chin and talking absolute shite nervously for an hour before awkwardly crutching off to the toilet and swearing under my breath at my complete, incomprehensible idiocy for thinking I could pull off a date in this state.

10. Jobs - Since I am apparently fit to work and therefore receive no disability benefits, I have pretty much been unemployed for seven months. I have applied for, and been offered no less than four jobs, all of which I have ultimately had to turn down because I have been told I need more surgery, or am unable to drive, or am too full of chemicals to be trusted in a work environment. Which leads me onto money. Oh money, I remember you, bits of paper and shiny coins deeming me able or unable to participate in the outside world, depending on that little minus sign on my bank app. I have become extremely thrifty in these trying times. I recently made bunting out of one of my dresses as a gift to a friend, because being naked seemed far more feasible thing than actually buying a present. I've lost all previous inhibitions about asking for more hot water for my pot of tea when I'm out. I am now getting pretty good at eating an entire meal stealthily out of my handbag when 'going out for lunch' -what's a bit of indigestion if I am able to save seven precious pounds? I'm about thirty more pounds into my overdraft from just lurking around cash points and hoping someone forgets to take their cash. Of course I'd have to shout after them for the sake of my crushing conscience, but hey, they might lob 2p at me in thanks/disgust.

Yes, it's been a bit shit, but seeing the funny side of it certainly helps. And other people having a laugh at my expense is somehow more comforting than sympathy. So big thanks to; Nia and Tess, who find me a constant source of comedy, Mum who nearly pissed herself when I dropped an entire bag of frozen peas on the floor and then nearly fell over them, Dad who calls a cripple and gives me a paralysing leg squeeze at every opportunity, and my nephew who calls me Jo-bot and tries to get me to chase him, all the time cackling at my pathetic inability to keep up. You all rock.

I will also take this opportunity to acknowledge a man who I once witnessed running, yes RUNNING on crutches. James Kitto, you are an inspiration to us all.

Out of the Darkness

Last night I didn't dream of falling, which is kind of a bloody big deal. I did, however, dream of being in a female insane asylum, where some lady's multiple personality actually turned into another person, its skinny body formed on her bottom bunk with lank hair and emaciated skin. But swings and roundabouts - I guess there's still some dark stuff lurking in there.

When I wrote my last post, I found myself at what is sometimes referred to as 'the bottom'. The overwhelming feeling of being alone was suffocating. Luckily for me I have some beautiful humans in my life, who rolled their sleeves up, pulled their hair back and dove head-first into the thick, bitter, syrupy darkness I was sinking in, and helped me to swim to the surface, all the time showing me  that the 'me' I thought was gone, had simply got a little lost. The boot is now off and I've been told to apply a little weight through the foot, with about another month to go before I'll be walking. The end is still a little way off, but knowing this is the last leg of the race is very encouraging. 

Looking forward, I will be moving JoJo Goes Public to a snazzy new website with all my old posts on as well as new ones, so keep an eye out that. I will also be working from home, writing blogs and other copy for small businesses, whilst laying the foundations for my dream job as an outdoor activity instructor - something that I was once told to forget after the accident, but am now reassured I can still achieve (with a bit of patience and hard work getting my foot back to normal). So, things are suddenly a lot less dreary than they seemed not so long ago. It's amazing what a few encouraging words and a change in perspective can do. 

So, this is just a short post to say thank-you to everyone who sent nice messages or called or wrote me a letter or sent a card. It was pretty special to receive such a supportive response for what could have seemed a very self-indulgent post. It was really reassuring to know how many people had felt exactly the same way, and how they had come out on the sunnier side of it.

Thank you to my wonderful friends who understood my crazy, desperate mood was my way of communicating that I felt lost and alone, and for not just ignoring it because it might have been an uncomfortable beast to square up to. Thanks for knowing how much I hate to admit I'm struggling, and how far down I had sunk to write a whole bloody blog post about it. Thanks for understanding that I have once again left my heart in Australia, and how much harder this injury has been because of that.

The roller-coaster of the last two months is not one I want to ride again, but it is no doubt a testament to all the incredible people I have around me, holding me up when my wonky foot can't.

I'm looking forward to a year of regaining my strength and working towards a happy and fulfilling future, as well as attempting to repay all the kindness shown to me in this strange and challenging time.

JoJo 

x 

Why I'm Turning My Back On 'Fate'

I used to think that life was somewhat pre-determined. That if I didn't get the job, it wasn't meant to be. If I lost in love, the right person was yet to be found. If I missed the train, it was beyond my control. 

I thought that things were meant to just fall together, and that you should let the universe do it's thing. Now I'm not so sure. 

Maybe I needed to word my CV better. Maybe that love I lost needed a little more compromise, a little less giving up, a little less defensiveness. Maybe I needed to be organised, then I might be halfway to my destination, rather than sitting in the rain, at a train station saturated with the smell of dehydrated urine. 

Now I'm starting to think you have all the control. Not over death or governments or who someone else falls in love with, but with your own life and your own future. It's easy to be inadvertently defeatist, blaming failures on some sort of cosmic order, when actually you could have done things differently to create a different outcome. If I had been more fierce and independent I would have seen a lot more of the world. If I had been less terrified of love I would have felt a lot more. If I had been more brave I might have given myself more opportunities. But instead I have lived safely, protecting my heart and my pride, putting it all down to 'fate'. 

I now refuse to assume my 'fate' is to be underwhelmed by my life. I refuse to blame 'fate' for my heartbreak. I refuse to hold anyone but myself accountable for where I am and how I feel. If you let someone break your spirit, then you are doing all the hard work for them. 

I didn't want to leave Australia. As I was driven to the airport, I felt this innate feeling that it just wasn't right, that it 'wasn't meant to be like this'. But the truth is, I just didn't play my cards right. No-one else played my hand for me. I had all the control.

Now I am home and I have a new set of cards. I'm going to play this hand right. It's going to be outstanding. 

I have the ability to shape my future. You have the ability to shape yours. It's time we all started working on our masterpieces.

Papa Smurf Knows What's Up

All for now,

JoJo

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

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

Paddling Into The Unknown

It seems that 22 is a bit of a learning curve. There's been a lot of goings on this year, both good and bad. There's been a lot of movements, and a lot of big decisions being made.

People are getting engaged, having babies and getting big jobs, Jesus - my big brother got married a few weeks a ago - WHAT THE SHIT?! I don't feel old enough to be witnessing this stuff.

My beautiful nephew

People all around me are making big grown-up choices, shifting their lives and the lives of those around them into new places and perspectives. I quite frankly was not prepared for being shifted in this manner, although I'm sure I will get used to my new positioning. I guess when everyone is growing up around you, it's hard to not hold onto the past. I guess when everyone is growing up around you it makes you realise you've been reluctant to do the same.

It's hard to come to terms with change sometimes, although we all know it is an inevitable and constant part of life. I guess I hadn't really stepped back and looked at it all before, but I've made some big decisions too.

I finally let go of something that had been lurking in my head for years and years, crowding and casting shadows on all of the the good things in there. Something that didn't let me see how happy I was without it, something that kept me pining over it and wanting it. It wasn't that I didn't want to let it go, I just couldn't.

But there isn't space for it in there anymore, it was pushed out by all the beautiful things I've been blessed to have in my life in recent times. And although I was in a kind of mourning for it at first, almost missing the pain it brought me, I can now see all those amazing things so much more clearly.

I've finally let my guard down when it comes to love. The fear of not having control has melted away. The nervousness that came with putting my heart in someone else's hands has become a downright willingness to pass it over. Where I was always apprehensive, I now have a confidence that staggers me. I'm even bloody going to Australia just to keep a hold of it. I'm currently in the process of filling out my years visa and buying my flight out to Sydney to be with my Manfriend, which is a somewhat surreal experience. For the girl who wouldn't consider planning even two months ahead when it came to love, it's a pretty big deal.

So here I am, paddling into the unknown, putting my faith in something invisible and hoping it works out, kind of knowing it will work out.

And so, maybe 22 is a learning curve, maybe it's a scary grown-up time, but maybe it's pretty fucking cool too.

At my Brother's wedding

I'm a Big, Big Girl In a Big, Big World - And I'm Shitting My Pants.

Decisions - Sometimes they are easy to make, a flippant side-thought that interrupts your newspaper or afternoon daydreams.
Other times they are a lot harder to figure out. Especially when it comes down to you knowing what you want.

These types of decisions can really eat you up inside, churning around in your stomach and your head, pulling at loose fibres of doubt and worry as they go, collecting together and becoming a much bigger beast than you initially suspected them to be. Outsiders may see your decision as straightforward or obvious, but to you it can be a colossal web of dependencies and variables.

I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to these sorts of decisions - the ones that are big but should be fairly simple- my brain works at double speed at the best of times, add a decision and you can at least triple that. I end up looking so far inside my mind that I can't see anything any more, just fuzz.

I am currently faced with a few big decisions. People would suggest I do what makes me happy, but that is ignorance at it's pinnacle. There are always external factors to consider: family, friends and career being just a few. If you fail to consider these factors then you are a selfish, morally bankrupt human being and deserve to be alone and unloved.

I had some advice yesterday, which was to think about the decision for a minute, then forget about it and let my conciousness do the work. I'm finding it hard though - I'm feeling the pressure and weight of it on my back, the niggling scratch of it on my mind and the pressure on the delicate glass of my heart.

I have made decisions in my life that I thought were astronomically important, but these seem to shrink them down to the size of quails eggs in comparison. Maybe I'm magnifying it beyond what is necessary.
I guess I'm very aware of how much of myself I am putting in the line up : my heart, my pride, my glorious naivety to "world-crashing-down-around-me" type feelings. I'm also aware of who else will feel the repercussions of my decisions. That's probably the half of it.

But maybe this is all part of life's cycle, maybe this is a right of passage of becoming a grown-up.

I've never been a scaredy-cat. Never once. But I feel like one right now.

That's all for now, JoJo xxx

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

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

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

Would I Lie To You?

Something has gone wrong somewhere here. Somewhere along the line men and women started to lie to each other. Now, I don't know why this happened, I don't know what silly sod thought it was a good idea and I can't attempt to imagine how much confusion it has caused over the years.

In my short life so far, it has made things far more complicated than necessary. Here I shall investigate.

WHY LIE?

The answer to this question depends on what sort of lie your telling. For example, if you're pal has just had a truly hideous hair cut, you might want to make her feel better, considering it's too late to do anything about it.

This is a pity-lie or a compliment-lie. In very few circumstances is this type of lie acceptable. You may be making her happy in the short term but in reality, she's going to know if it's a shit barnet. Also she will think you are stylistically-confused and will never trust your opinion again.

DRUNK LIES

I lie when I'm drunk, I think a lot of people do this partly because they feel their lives aren't interesting enough already. Telling someone you own your own business/you're a model/you're a professional skateboarder is not okay. It will always leave you in sticky situations. For example, when it transpires they know your house mate.

THE OUTCOME

Lying is hard because if you get found out you look so twattish it really is not worth it. Maybe you'll have less 'stories' for I 'have never' but at least you wont have to keep a note of all the lies you tell and try to remember the elaborate details of each anecdote.

WHO LIES?

Everyone. whether it's excuses, white lies, drunk lies or just trying-to-make-yourself-look-cool-lies. We all do it. All I'm saying is we should try and control the extent and quantity of them.So what you're late. What if you just bloody forgot? What if you slept through your alarm? SO BLOODY WHAT? You are only human.

LIES YOU ARE TOLD

Friends lie when they say you don't have bad points.

Parents lie when they say they will not Facebook stalk you.

Boys lie when they say they wont judge you if you fuck on the first date.

Girls lie when they say they don't like attention.

I lied when I said I liked last years Christmas present from my Nanny. (herb themed notebook? where do you even buy this stuff?!)

AND

You lied when you said it wasn't you passing wind in class (sometimes you just can't hold it in)

Anyway, what I'm getting at is everyone does it but why do we lie about some stuff that is just better off said truthfully?

WHEN THE TRUTH SHOULD COME OUT

1) "It's not you its me" -No it is not. It is you, because I don't fancy you any more, how can it be me? How can I make me not find you attractive any more? I can't, it's you. It's just harsh to confuse someone like this. Give them closure, spare them your pity and just tell them why. There's someone else, shit happens. They'll get over it.

2) "I'm not drunk"- You are, you have been drinking and now you are acting weirdly, you are drunk.

3) "I'm always here for you"- this is a really common lie. Yes, you can offer support to a friend whenever you are free, but sometimes you aren't. Sometimes you are in meetings or at work, or you just ignore the call.

4) "I'm never drinking again" - BULL SHIT

5) "I would never lie to you!" - You just did.

I could go on but it's really tedious.

I don't get it when fat people lie about how much they eat. You cannot be that big if you're only eating salad.

Oh, and lies don't have to be in the form of words. Oh no, having a chocolate stash under your bed and only eating leaves in public is lying.

It's pathetic. Everyone likes chocolate. Pretending to your house mates that you didn't eat 5 Mars bars alone in the dark haven of your room last night doesn't mean it actually didn't happen. If you want to be thin just stop fucking eating so much shit and go to the gym. SIMPLES.

That's all for now

Jojo xxx

P.S when someone says you look tired/poorly they just mean you look shit. You look like an uglier version of yourself. You are not attractive today.