Poem: La Familia

Writing

La Familia,

Blood’s thicker than water.

A ‘V’ for Vendetta,

If any were to ‘runneth’ over.

 

Sibling feuding subsides,

Eyes are dried as,

The belly of the beast rolls over in submission.

Fist fights in a blink of an eye become,

Nothing more than a memory of augmented vision.

 

La Famila,

The Family,

The Clan.

Does the man make the family,

Or does the family make the man?

Mood Swings

Writing

I now totally get where the saying ‘you’ve got up on the wrong side of bed this morning’ comes from, by doing just that this morning. Waking up today made me feel like climbing up Mt Everest would’ve been easier. No sooner had I stood up that I had realised both of my hamstrings were pulled. Did I do some heavy lifting the day before? Some midnight yoga I can’t remember? No, no I realised what it was. It was cleaning.

 

This is why cleaning and I don’t go well together. Brushing the wooden floors of my flat (as I seldom do) left me a pulled hamstring in each leg, how sad is that? From which concludes two things, 1) I don’t use my hamstrings enough – I’m unfit 2) I don’t tidy enough.

 

Anyhow dragging my hamstring-pulled body to work, I thought the worst of today’s troubles are surely behind me. Yet, as hindsight would tell me, I couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

 

Sitting at my desk in the office, I could just about open my eyes, which weren’t too dissimilar to that of a weeping pregnant turtle giving birth on a golden coastline. So jarring was the sight of the computer screen, that I immediately adjusted the brightness to basically pitch black on my monitor. In my logic I’d much rather squint to see the words than have my retinas bleached to high heavens.

 

Finally,  I wake up, and just in time for the world’s most annoying typist to start hammering the keyboard like she’s playing a game of ‘whack-a-mole’, the worst thing is that she’s not even typing emails or any general document to do with work. She’s whatsapping her boyfriend of 5 years! The shame! Loud typers are definitely one of my pet peeves, after of course that annoying little noise some people make after yawning, and open mouth chewing!

 

Fearing I was about to have an assault case on my hands, I scarpered off to the bathroom to try and compose myself, visually playing through different scenarios in my head until I reached the one which was least likely to convey my psychopathic tendencies. So screaming in her face and throwing her keyboard out of the window had to be subdued for the time being, much to my dismay, I can assure you. 

 

I return to my desk with a new plan devised, in the hope it would pacify me as she continued with her goal of turning her fingers to stubs from typing so f*cking frantically. Maybe a bit of Reggaeton music, asmr and the odd Ted Talk will drown her out I mull over in my mind. 

 

10 minutes in to ‘why sleep is your superpower’  and I hear this hacking noise, moments later whooping then gulping. Is someone strangling the keyboard thumper? No, (unfortunately) not, it’s just the guy sitting directly behind me deciding to imitate the neighbours cat churning up hairballs like there’s no tomorrow. I think it’s a nervous thing with this guy, yeah, I can tell you he definitely gets on my nerves at this stage. If you need to clear your throat do it in one almighty lung clear, don’t dabble with the idea and draw the cough out over several mini mucusy soundbites. If you do choose the latter option then please hacking don’t make a habit of it. I swear this guy coughs more than he breathes. Perhaps that’s why he’s coughing so bloody much!

 

I realise I’m going on a mini rant, it’s just been one of those days. Everyone’s really nice at work, honest. It’s just me who has the problem really. If the above doesn’t make that obvious already. 

 

Anyway I turned the volume up to deafening levels on my headphones and it did the trick, temporary deafness and tinnitus are the prices I’m willing to pay to make Miss tantrum typist  and Mr cough up a lung mute for a mere moment.

 

Lunchtime arrives and I decide to remove my headphones, the sounds of the office are replaced by the all too near whiffs of sardines and soup. I leave the office, ready to have a mental breakdown, heading to the shop I spend 10 minutes sniffing all of the hand creams hoping to eradicate the stench of fish from my memory. Don’t get me wrong, everyone has the right to eat whatever they want for lunch, fish is good for you anyway. But with my blood pressure already sky-rocketing you can see that today wasn’t my day to sail the seven seas if you get my drift? 

 

I buy a noodle salad thing and wolf it down in a heartbeat, wanting to stretch out my pulled hamstrings I take a walk along the river, sitting momentarily to winch at the pain and wallow in self pity, I’m approached by your local nutjob who starts rambling in my ear about how this place is his favourite place in the whole wide world. It’s not like I’m afraid of people, but I know my stranger danger and this guy looked dodgy. Trying to keep my poker face, and nodding along to his ramblings I decided to make a break for it and started limping back to the office after cutting him off abruptly. I continued to turn my head around as I hobbled away just in case he took offense to me departing from him rather swiftly. 

I wasn’t feeling up for a punch in the left kidney from a stranger today so I made haste getaway back to my desk. 

 

The rest of the day was spent reading emails, pretending to know what I’m doing and watching videos of puppies training to be guide dogs. Well, at least I ended the working day on a high!

 

Can’t wait for the sweet sweet sounds of sweaty digits on computer keyboards tomorrow!

5 Christmas Family Fights We All Have

Writing

1. Your sister/ brother got more presents than you

Let’s be honest for just a second, we may donate to charity once in a blue moon, help an old lady across the road and give half of our doughnut to the old flame. But in our heart of hearts, we’re all well aware of our all too selfish ways, truth be told, we’re all materialistic son’s of b*tches! And in no other way does this become more evident than during the festive period.  When your loving brother get’s one too many chocolate coins in his stockings you make sure your opinions are well and truly heard in the matter.

2. Your Granny ( on your dad’s side) insults your mum’s cooking

Not like she has any teeth left, stuck to the limitations of the humble sweet corn soup, dear old Deloris decides to put her 2 pence in and share just how much she despises your mother’s home cooking, The woman who has just spent more blood, sweat and tears slaving over a hot stove than what’s humanely acceptable.  Somebody call the Samaritans for Christ’s sake. And the undertakers, because by the look on your mother face, Granny’s seen her last sweet corn soup I think.

3.You didn’t get to put the star ontop of the tree.

This is always a certified way to get my dad’s blood pressure sky-rocketing as me and my siblings squabble over who has the privilege of placing the tacky fraying star upon the tip of the off white scratchy artificial Christmas tree. Arguably the tallest should step up to the task but me being me never found that fair. For consecutive years, that same off white scratchy tree has been toppled, bobbles and all. My dad now refuses to put a tree up these recent years. I do wonder why.

4. Your Aunt begs you to stop telling your 6 year old cousin that Santa isn’t real.

Honesty is the best policy in your eyes, what’s worse than simply lying is lying to a child you tell yourself. Plus it’s quite funny seeing the shock on little Danny’s face as your Aunt’s brow furrows further and further each time you beckon him over.

5. Your Aunt begs you to stop telling your 6 year old cousin that Santa is infact actually ‘Satan’

So she finally got you to stop saying that Santa wasn’t real, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change the narrative to Santa metamorphosing into Satan himself! In a rather beautiful analogy of caterpillar to butterfly, you proceed to tell the younger members of your extended family the real reason Santa wears red.

.

If you can’t empathise with me on any of my fondest of Christmas memories above then you just don’t know what the true meaning of Christmas is – Fighting! I mean – Family!

See The Signs

Writing

I write to you with one eye open this Monday morning, not two, one. if any of you recount the good old game of Animal Crossings, you’ll remember fondly the big ass ballooned eye your little character would receive from a bee sting (Google it). I, my friends am that character. But it wasn’t a bee that caused this. It was myself. In what seemed like an unknowing attempt of self-sabotage! But How?

The workplace

Sh*t always goes down in the office and obviously some must’ve got into my damn eye.  I distinctly remember my left eye being quite itchy while at the desk, as there was no sandpaper handy to really scratch that itch my dirty fingernail had to suffice. My nail had probably minorly cut my lower eyelid and dirt must’ve got in and had a field day, atleast that’s what I think caused it!

But not to jump ahead let me show you the experience through my eyes (right eye only) on how the infection developed  so you are aware if you’re ever in a similar situation, hopefully not!

The Symptoms

It’s Saturday morning, the penetrating sunlight from my blinds interjects the constant buzz of the outdoor traffic. I wake up well rested and ready for the day. That is, until I peer into the mirror at my left eye with my right eye, I look like I’ve  just done 12 rounds with Tyson. It’s swollen, it’s red, but not yet to an extent where I feel I should get something for it. And this was my mistake! Prevention is better than cure folks, know that! Act early.

So the day goes on, I just float around like a bad smell not knowing internally the rot that was starting to fester! Bit dramatic – the infection was beginning to worsen. I go to sleep that night after trying a home remedy of warm compression and black tea bags on my left eye.

Waking up Sunday, I feel an irregular tightness where I’d normally get my frequent dark circles! The infection had spread. Before it was near my tearduct now it’s making its way down my f*cking face! My cheekbone is beginning to hurt. I immediately start freaking out and do what any sane person would do and that’s jump straight on to Google. Looking at symptoms and reasons, I come across the goriest sh*te known to man, woman and child. Word of advice, don’t Google a symptom too much and certainly don’t look in Google Images!

From what my research had shown me, I had anything from mild Conjunctivitis to ‘you’re going blind b*tch’. And with this shock horror on a Sunday I rushed my ass half way across the city to visit an out of hours doctor. And this is where the fun really begins….

 

Part 1 – The Symptoms

Part 2 – The Treatment

Part 3 – The Aftermath

Poem: Fight

Writing

It doesn’t matter what’s wrong or what’s right.
If you go left, I’ll go right.
I don’t want anyone to know I cry at night,
So that’s why I always put up a fight.

I’ll fight on a Monday, I’ll fight on a Tuesday.
I’ll fight when you choose-a-day,
Cuz for me, it’s never a -lose-day.
Atleast not in your eyes.
But perhaps inside mine.

See, although I try and hide it,
Truth is, I really am quite shy.
I really do get tired,
Of keeping up this lie.

See, I feel like you will feel I’m weak.
If I were to go weak at the knees,
Would you expect me to kiss your feet?

I dare not kiss my own self-esteem,
For fear of being seen as an obscene wannabe Queen.
But, perhaps I’ve got it all wrong.
To care for yourself is not vain or self-centered.
A love for thine self should surely be unmeasured.
Unweathered and treasured.
Or atleast I would hope.
But not merely know.
I would give anything up,
Just to give this a go.

The meaning behind the poem: In a society where no-one wants to seem big headed, where compliments are brushed off in a heartbeat, it can lead some of us into a downward spiral of self-loathing. Just as body dysmorphia can make someone unhappy with their external appearance, low self-esteem can make someone belittle themselves from within. My poem highlights my inner antagonism at a stage in my life where I truly didn’t like myself enough to even go to the shop to buy food. I sat on my bed and just wrote this from an honest place. I use to be a very angry person, angry at myself for not caring about my own well-being at all. I thought I’d hide my insecurities be being angry with others, being defensive so I didn’t appear weak. I’ve learnt the hard way from this and as a result have taken steps to better myself and most importantly be kind to myself so that I can be kind to others.