For the Girls!

It seems whenever I meet with a female friend it isn’t long before our conversation turns to that of the opposite sex. Men are indeed fascinating!

But as a dear buddy of mine recently anguished, ‘how can you really know what men are thinking?’

Such strange yet marvellous creatures they are, males tend not to say what’s on their minds nor do they like to talk about *ahem* feelings.

The men in my friend’s life have behaved particularly bizarrely. Hot then cold, eager then laidback, they are almost like true to life Danny Zuko’s; really keen on her but not so hot at showing it.

Even their text messages are confusing. Ending with the likes of “I’ll be fine” and “Don’t worry about me,” it seems that they want her to be there, but are too scared to ask for what they need.

Another question, of course, is how do you know if you’ve begun to cross the line from ‘just friends’ and wandered into the realm of  ‘something more’ ?

Should you put your cards on the table, confess how you feel and risk them running a mile?

Or wait for a sign that hints they feel the same way, which could very possibly leave you waiting forever?

Well I say, do as Derren Brown would do! Begin to read between the lines, pick up on their vibes, and really see what feels right. And hey, if you make a mistake or do something regretful you can always blame your hormones!

The truth of the matter is we can’t change men’s nature any more than we can our own. By default, we like to talk. We take things to heart, we overanalyse  conversations and yes, we stress over how many kisses we should really end our texts with.  

But men don’t do that, do they? Or do they?

How do you know?!

I have a feeling this month is going to be rather philosophical…

St Valentines

I recently read about couples actually refusing to take part in the Feb 14^th celebrations.

Labelling the day ‘commercial’ and ‘an excuse to get people spending,’ they even stated that they would only buy their partners gifts when they felt like it and not because the calendar implied they should…

Hmm.

And as I discovered when asking a friend what she and her man were doing for Valentines, not everyone is as enthusiastic about the day as I am.

You see, I just adore special occasions.

I enter the Christmas season joyfully, become child-like at birthday parties, have a fright night on Halloween, cook a Chinese at the Chinese New Year AND watch the sunrise at the Summer Solstice.  

So when it’s Valentine’s turn I send cards to friends, buy the little ones heart-shaped chocolates and make a date to be with my other half. Even if it’s just to slob out at home with a movie.

While I don't doubt that life can be hectic, busy and incredibly serious, I find these annual routines so comforting.

They allow us to slow down, lighten up and hey, have that heart-shaped tub of Maltesers if we really want to!

So I for one, will be celebrating.

Unlike those Valentine Scrooges…

The End

Ted Evans’ award winning short film, The End, poses the question, ‘if there was a cure for deafness, would you take it?’

In its raw, documentary style The End explores what could indeed happen if deafness was eventually eradicated.

For those of you with hearing or with no exposure to the deaf community, saying ‘yes’ to a cure for deafness would most likely seem an automatic response.

But for those who are well and truly part of the deaf world, the prospect of eliminating deafness would signify a loss rather than a gain.

The existence of sign language, deaf humour and rich artistic expressivity would all cease without the deaf community that gives life to them.

For this community, deafness is seen not so much as a dis-ability but rather an ability to converse in a unique language and enjoy the perks of living in a much quieter world. To them, deafness has many gifts.

I have known deaf artists say it is actually their deafness that enables them to be so successfully creative.

Deaf writers have expressed how it was their deafness that encouraged them to seek wider platforms for their ‘voice.’

Even I, as a dancer, have noticed how my sense of rhythm and musicality is stronger than most – and yes, I am deaf!

Countless deaf professionals have all said it is because of their deafness that they have succeeded and not despite of it. So without it, who would they be?

This is perhaps why charities that focus on ‘curing’ deafness are often shunned by the deaf community. Offering a cure, however well-meaning it may be, could be read as:

“You are not normal.
We want to fix you.”

By emphasising what is lacking or medically lost, is it any wonder the deaf community may feel inadequate when viewed from a medical perspective?

Yet as a friend of mine likes to point out, what is normal anyway?

Without our variations and differences the world would be a very uniform and uninspiring place.

Going back to question, to say that I would meet the offer of a cure with an immediate ‘no’ would be a lie. I was not born deaf; therefore I know exactly what I am missing. And even with all the perks of not hearing, there are times I really do miss music…

For myself I have concluded - should a cure ever be invented, much further consideration would have to be given. It’s simply not as easy as yes or no.

And so congratulations must be given to Mr Evans who, with his thought provoking and poignant film, has encouraged deaf people worldwide to seriously consider The Big Question…

“Would you?”

*Photograph from Disability Arts Online shows a still from The End

Skip, hop and a jump!

Sat in my car, held up by traffic, I casually notice a bunch of school kids leaving a nearby school.

Their Mums and Dads, laden with bags, lunchboxes and books follow, walking sensibly and maturely – as most grown ups do. The children, however, opt for a much more joyful form of travelling.

They skip!

Arms swinging with gleeful faces, they manoeuvre their travelling dance around oncoming pedestrians. Sometimes they run instead, but all the while remaining light and buoyant, a picture of delight. All for absolutely no reason.

So when did my skipping days end, I wonder?

Perhaps when I hit secondary school and the need to be ‘cool’ and look good came into play. I think the closest I got to skipping as a teen was when I tripped up inside ASDA and flew awkwardly into an old man. The shame.

But I can feel the childlike yearning within me again. The craving for the bounce of my feet and the need to feel the wind in my hair! Oh the pleasure of bouncing gaily JUST BECAUSE I WANT TO!

And so, pulling up at home a little while later I decide now is my chance. The driveway to my front door is perfect for skipping down. Lets go!

But then. I notice the neighbours leaving their house. Hmm. Another time.

And so for now, the hallway of my home will have to make do.

WHHHEEEEEEE!!!

Go on, try it! I dare you.

Show us your gnashers!

A toothpaste advert tells me in its booming voice that it is “the only one proven to combat acid erosion, plaque” and countless other serious, nasty, horrible ills that teeth can encounter.

 I don’t think trying to scare me into buying a product is the right tactic.

You know, in past years nobody actually knew about acid erosion.

In those days toothpaste was toothpaste.

Sometimes I think we know too much.

Power to Pause...

It was nearing the end of another day as I returned home to discover the power – my goodness – had been cut off!

Panic and worry began to creep in.

How on Earth will I get my dinner cooked now?

And how am I going to see?!

Is there anything I can actually do with no electric?!

Sighing heavily, I scrambled in the dark kitchen cupboard for matches, lighting the few tea lights I could find.

It was then that I saw it.

A dazzling pink and dreamy blue sunset streaked across the sky. Patches of small, fluffy clouds danced across it, like gentle shadows.

I was speechless.

Pulled out of my chattering world of thought, I was transfixed and firmly grounded by the beauty before me.

Just breathing. Just watching. Just being.

Before I knew it – PING – FLASH – FLICKER – the oven, microwave and lights returned to life, declaring their existence with their sounds and brightness.

And so, what to do now? Write? Plan? Seek yet another stimulating activity?

Hmm.

Collecting my tea lights, I took myself upstairs and lay down in the dark to enjoy the last few moments of the mesmerising sunset.

Nothing to do, I smiled. Nowhere to go. Nothing to be.

Just breathing. Just watching. Just being.

And so it seems, sometimes life gently reminds us that we don’t have to always be so busy.

We don’t have to be so filled up with things, people and constant activities.

 It’s okay to do sweet nothing.

But, as I found, that’s normally a choice we have to remember to make.

A Pongy Ponder

I was holding my nose while rushing through a store laden with OTT overbearing scents when I had a sudden flash of genius.

If only, I thought, it was possible to switch off my sense of smell – at will – in the same way I flick my hearing aid off to avoid certain sounds.

There would be no more desperately holding my breath to avoid the stinky smell on a skanky train toilet.

And I could perhaps get through one of the niece’s nappy changes without needing a scarf wrapped around my face.

I would even be safe from the wrath of the most lethal smell of all… morning breath!! (Other people’s of course.)

And then, for all the more pleasant smells in the world I could simply flick the nose switch back on.

Ah. If only.