Ah what weather we've been enjoying here in the Netherlands. We had two days of sun you know. That's right two whole days of blissful and hectic garden preparing, greek salad buying, barbeque cleaning and slapping on factor 20 activity. All this jubilant, swimsuited celebration as we prepared for the sweet promise of summer. Then it rained again. And again...
Today, I appear to have woken up inside "Hurricane Swamp Monster", lush, wet, mushy and cold. Although, to be fair it does look lovely and green everywhere. Even if the flowers in my pots aren't blooming yet, I live in hope that whenever the the next two days of sunny abandon are gifted to us, they'll overcome their fear of the typhoonesque conditions and show me their booty.
Or I'll just chop them down.
Admirably, a lot of the population seem to be baring their all and donning tiny little sundresses, spaghetti tops and shorts. Sometimes you can't even spot the goose pimples. Last Saturday for example, my men and I had been on a shoppage expedition to Amsterdam, Giant G being in need of new shoes, jeans and a few more t-shirts with catchy slogans like "The Devil Made me do it", to flaunt in the face of the teachers who have no concept of ADHD. That, however is another issue that I won't even start upon for fear of droning...but....although....NO.
Huhum..Sorry, where was I?
Ah yes, Amsterdam, Dam Square and a tropical 10 degrees, slight drizzle and lots of fractious tourists. Having spent a wonderfully entertaining 20 minutes in some super "sick" sports shop, where impressively trendy, earpiece equipped and betattoed sales assistants fitted G for exorbitantly priced sneakers, we paid and ran.
Making our escape, we headed onto Dam square, where a large crowd, some music and the odd beach ball floating high over the spectators, titillated our collective anticipation gene.
“Ooooh, what’s going on here then?”
Gareth’s height has its advantages over his Dad’s and my welsh stature, he peered over peoples heads. As his normally “unimpressed by anything” teenage expression took on a gleam of hedonistic excitement, I elbowed my way through to the front.
Girls in bikinis.
Lots of them.
A lingerie chain had recreated a beach scene complete with sand, deckchairs and pretty little, well endowed young ladies throwing inflatables into the suddenly energized audience. I had two thoughts. Poor things, it’s so cold and what was that tied to the beach ball? Could it be, yes it was, a giftcard for the lingerie chain. Once again, Gareth’s height was extremely useful as he effortlessly grabbed a passing beachball from the sky. The accompanying “euw, it’s got a bra on it” cheered my mood no end “Yes, so do those girls” I answered but he knew that already, his hypnotised, slightly lecherous glare was already turned their way. Bless him.
All fun and games, just some female students dressed in beachwear earning a few bob to subsidize their study. Admirable, really. Then I heard it. Droning, yelling, chanting, screeching. Rubbernecking like a mad woman I located the source of this cacophony. The Godbods, female division, out in force with tambourines and closed minds. They stood at the front of the crowd, bible in one hand and tambo’s in another, verbally abusing these young girls. They called them whores, sluts, tools of satan and much more. I was horrified, these women seemed to be drooling in their fervour for the Lord’s work, and the level of insults was rising as they peppered their abuse with “Hallelujahs”. Grabbing my arm and gently moving me away, Pat tried to calm me down as I yelled at the nearest one “How Christian is your behaviour?” to no avail as they synchronised their screams and finger pointing. Gareth, enjoying the scene even more since the God Squad arrived and the girls defiantly pepped up their performance, was laughing so much he forgot to be embarrassed by me. Phew! It’s all go in Amsterdam.
“In Christianity neither morality nor religion come into contact with reality at any point.” Nietzche
6/4/10
Never stick your finger in a socket....or anyone elses for that matter...
Shocks: Electric, emotional, physical, they all leave a metaphoric scar, don't they? If you'd once pulled out a plug and your body lit up in the manner of a cartoon character, wouldn't you approach said plug with anxiety for ever more? At least until the memory fades.
Physical shocks. Haven't we all had a paper cut, a whack from a cupboard door left open or walked into a lamppost? (well that lamppost thing might just be me, I do have a tendency to not look where I'm going *blush*) Eventually you start to check that it can't happen again. Basically, you ensure that your surroundings can't hurt you. So why do we allow people to hurt us on a regular basis, why do we give nasty toxic trolls the opportunity to poison our lives?
The Dutch have a saying "drie keer raak" which means third time lucky, without the "luck" bit. You get three chances and that's it. Somebody I gave credit to for being a grown up, well rounded person, quite frankly, isn't. I think I'm a relatively strong person, I'm not afraid of confrontation, I don't like it but will not hide from it. Yet, other bit of me, the one that's scared to approach someone who I know is going to deal badly with anything that resembles criticism, usually tries another approach to deal with a situation that may turn uncomfortable.
Silly Sharon.
What I didn't bargain for is this person taking my clumsy attempt to be neutral, blabbing it to half my colleagues whilst painting herself as the victim...and then, said colleagues making nasty, insidious complaints about me to the boss. Not to my supervisor, who would have told me because she's pretty cool like that - not afraid of confrontation either - but the big boss, the head honcho, the dude in the leather chair.
How did I discover this? After being called into a meeting to discuss the fact that this colleague had made some damaging and self serving complaints to my supervisor - my supervisor decided enough was enough and it needed discussion (there ya go, see - I sad she wasn't afraid to confront) for which I was grateful. Being bad-mouthed to all and sundry and having no idea is not a pleasant thing. After this meeting, the complainer accepted my apology for being clumsy and not dealing with the issues in a manner that was beneficial to her - which basically I gather, is ignoring them - she pulled me into a hug...A HUG? As you can imagine, this left me mightily confused. The next day after a lot of heart searching and some unusually strong profanity, I asked the Boss if I could have a chat and avail myself of his open door policy. This is when I discovered that some colleagues had also popped in for a poisonous chat. I’m also being held accountable for noxious gossip, it seems. Well, to be honest the gossip bit might be true :) – but never noxious and you know, if I've heard it, somebody told me and usually it was the person who says I’m being cruel to her. Who, then, responsible for gossip? Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I've been called to account during my time at this company and although the other times I was completely vindicated, the nasty, nauseous feeling stuck. Whereas the previous Director seemed to thrive on the old "Divide and Conquer" adage and encourage his staff to back-stab, thankfully the new guy doesn't. He told me about it and I am so grateful. Ignorance however, is bliss and since discovering this, I've felt quite sick. Mostly because the people responsible haven't once mentioned their problems to me and even more telling, have been very, very nice to me. Now, I know there are many people who function quite happily in this way; I'm just not one of them. Therefore, have finally made a decision I've been pondering over for a long time.
It's time to go.
11 years in the same job is a long time, possibly too long. I'm not hugely happy there anyway. The job gives me no intellectual challenges and can be quite stultifying. The technical name is "a bore out" which is the opposite of a "burnout" (in case you hadn't made the connection - hehe) Also, after this school term some of the people I really enjoy working with are leaving. Why waste my precious life worrying about people I actively dislike, who obviously passive/aggressively dislike me? Tony, our beautifully insightful eldest son asked me yesterday if I was going to let these people chase me away. Answer: "YES".
What I’ve learned?
It is possible to smile sweetly and be ultra nice to people whilst actively sabotaging them. Not just possible, in some it’s practically an art form.
Never trust someone who laughs after everything they say. Seriously, “I just went for a glass of water – giggle giggle” is a bit odd. You realise it’s a nervous trait and never realise the reason for the nervousness – they’re scared they’ll be caught out?
Personally, I’m incapable of that level of sneaky.
I have bloody great kids (but this I knew anyway)
I have bloody great friends.
I have a bloody great husband, who has suffered my whining about this with stoic devotion.
There are two sides to every story and am aware I’m sometimes …huhum…difficult to deal with but now know how much I appreciate straightforward people.
It’s not so easy to tell who’s straightforward.
And lastly but really, the most important…..
I get massive spots when I’m stressed.
“Drie keer raak” – toodleoo.
Physical shocks. Haven't we all had a paper cut, a whack from a cupboard door left open or walked into a lamppost? (well that lamppost thing might just be me, I do have a tendency to not look where I'm going *blush*) Eventually you start to check that it can't happen again. Basically, you ensure that your surroundings can't hurt you. So why do we allow people to hurt us on a regular basis, why do we give nasty toxic trolls the opportunity to poison our lives?
The Dutch have a saying "drie keer raak" which means third time lucky, without the "luck" bit. You get three chances and that's it. Somebody I gave credit to for being a grown up, well rounded person, quite frankly, isn't. I think I'm a relatively strong person, I'm not afraid of confrontation, I don't like it but will not hide from it. Yet, other bit of me, the one that's scared to approach someone who I know is going to deal badly with anything that resembles criticism, usually tries another approach to deal with a situation that may turn uncomfortable.
Silly Sharon.
What I didn't bargain for is this person taking my clumsy attempt to be neutral, blabbing it to half my colleagues whilst painting herself as the victim...and then, said colleagues making nasty, insidious complaints about me to the boss. Not to my supervisor, who would have told me because she's pretty cool like that - not afraid of confrontation either - but the big boss, the head honcho, the dude in the leather chair.
How did I discover this? After being called into a meeting to discuss the fact that this colleague had made some damaging and self serving complaints to my supervisor - my supervisor decided enough was enough and it needed discussion (there ya go, see - I sad she wasn't afraid to confront) for which I was grateful. Being bad-mouthed to all and sundry and having no idea is not a pleasant thing. After this meeting, the complainer accepted my apology for being clumsy and not dealing with the issues in a manner that was beneficial to her - which basically I gather, is ignoring them - she pulled me into a hug...A HUG? As you can imagine, this left me mightily confused. The next day after a lot of heart searching and some unusually strong profanity, I asked the Boss if I could have a chat and avail myself of his open door policy. This is when I discovered that some colleagues had also popped in for a poisonous chat. I’m also being held accountable for noxious gossip, it seems. Well, to be honest the gossip bit might be true :) – but never noxious and you know, if I've heard it, somebody told me and usually it was the person who says I’m being cruel to her. Who, then, responsible for gossip? Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I've been called to account during my time at this company and although the other times I was completely vindicated, the nasty, nauseous feeling stuck. Whereas the previous Director seemed to thrive on the old "Divide and Conquer" adage and encourage his staff to back-stab, thankfully the new guy doesn't. He told me about it and I am so grateful. Ignorance however, is bliss and since discovering this, I've felt quite sick. Mostly because the people responsible haven't once mentioned their problems to me and even more telling, have been very, very nice to me. Now, I know there are many people who function quite happily in this way; I'm just not one of them. Therefore, have finally made a decision I've been pondering over for a long time.
It's time to go.
11 years in the same job is a long time, possibly too long. I'm not hugely happy there anyway. The job gives me no intellectual challenges and can be quite stultifying. The technical name is "a bore out" which is the opposite of a "burnout" (in case you hadn't made the connection - hehe) Also, after this school term some of the people I really enjoy working with are leaving. Why waste my precious life worrying about people I actively dislike, who obviously passive/aggressively dislike me? Tony, our beautifully insightful eldest son asked me yesterday if I was going to let these people chase me away. Answer: "YES".
What I’ve learned?
It is possible to smile sweetly and be ultra nice to people whilst actively sabotaging them. Not just possible, in some it’s practically an art form.
Never trust someone who laughs after everything they say. Seriously, “I just went for a glass of water – giggle giggle” is a bit odd. You realise it’s a nervous trait and never realise the reason for the nervousness – they’re scared they’ll be caught out?
Personally, I’m incapable of that level of sneaky.
I have bloody great kids (but this I knew anyway)
I have bloody great friends.
I have a bloody great husband, who has suffered my whining about this with stoic devotion.
There are two sides to every story and am aware I’m sometimes …huhum…difficult to deal with but now know how much I appreciate straightforward people.
It’s not so easy to tell who’s straightforward.
And lastly but really, the most important…..
I get massive spots when I’m stressed.
“Drie keer raak” – toodleoo.
6/1/10
What makes me, me.
It's a little known fact amongst my friends but I occasionally enjoy an attempt at poetry. I also find that putting pen to paper in whatever form, helps to expel anything poisonous that may be lurking inside my already precarious emotional state. I'm a Drama Queen and honestly, I enjoy it. I'd rather feel deeply and react instinctively, than sedately allow life's challenges to overwhelm me and say nothing. So here's a little self portrait - I hope you enjoy it.
Me.
I am an emotional fairy
I flit from mood to mood
From bouts of happy go lucky
To the pits of misunderstood
Sometimes I fly on gossamer wings
Or float o the glow of the moon
To suddenly crash and dive headfirst
Into a tremendous gloom
The urge to try and stop myself
But the ether shifts and I’m off again
Too Cry
Too Laugh
Too feel
I am an emotional fairy
I sigh - I cry - I squeal
A mockable wreck of dramatic intense?
……
Or are my emotions real?
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