Dealing with Brief-Grief

There is no target audience for this blog entry, but it is something I would have gained from by reading a year ago.

Pre-note: I have been thinking about writing this for about two weeks. I'm not entirely sure if it will make sense, but given how unread these tend to be, I don't think it matters too much.

This blog was initially titled 'Dealing with Grief' but I think Grief refers more to lasting periods of pain such as death, I think what I write would be quite harsh and unrealistic in approaching those situations. Instead Brief-Grief should address loss, but actually also trauma. (Yes, sorry, I made a new word and feeling based on another one therefore I'm using the wrong word but deal with it.)

Sometimes really bad things happen.

But when you're a kid you don't really get taught that very much. You're spoon-fed a diet of Disney Princesses marrying rich men and living happily ever after. There's no Disney story which ends with the ugly step-mother ruining the Princesses' life and said Princess attending life long therapy sessions. (None that I've read, at any rate, but if you can recommend one I'd be more than grateful)

Based on this unrealistic expectation that you'll always land on your feet, every bad life lesson you learn generally comes from experience.

To cut to the chase: almost a year ago something bad happened. I don't talk about it much and this is not where I'd do so anyway. What I want to get at is the way I chose to, and how other people choose to deal with these situations.

Distraction: "Something bad is going on, but it's okay because I am not going to think about it. I am going to think about something else."

My favourite and least favourite approach to these situations. An effective and unreliable quick fix (but don't we all love those so much? - how many pubs in Britain...?)

What you probably shouldn't do is go "LA LA LA I'M NOT LISTENING EVERYTHING IS OKAY" and throw yourself immediately into something else whilst still in a huge state of shock. But - oh wait - that's what I did. A wonderful quick fix with disastrous results.

Bitterness: "Something bad has happened to me, and I am going to use it as an excuse to inflict misery upon other people. Poor me."

I'd like to think I didn't do this, but I apologise to anyone who might beg to differ. It's, in my opinion, the ugliest way to deal with pain. Someone in a crying heap may be hard to watch, but terrifically bitter people are impossible to co-exist with.

Crying heaps: "Something bad has left me with over-productive tear-ducts."

Now, I'll admit, for a prolonged period of time, people approaching a bad situation in this way would be bloody awful to try and get along with. But it is certainly a more honest approach than Distraction, and a less arrogant approach than Bitterness. A bit of being a crying heap should easily facilitate the emotional release essential to --

Bucking up: "Something bad has happened, it's a shame, I've weighed out how best to approach the situation and I'm going to continue my life in the most suitable way possible because essentially, shit happens."

It is almost always applicable to say 'something worse has happened to someone somewhere'. Anyone living in England can't have it too rough given that we're a democratic nation with free clean water, healthcare and sanitation. Sure, it's not that helpful, but it's true. Some time after a sufficient period of mourning, everyone needs to buck up (or you might say 'suck it up'/'grow some balls' - your call) and move on.

To be honest, a balance of the first three with large emphasis on the fourth approach, might be pretty healthy. Everyone deals with stuff their own way. There are several ways I've not even mentioned here, frankly I don't have the time.

Last year I confused Distraction with Bucking Up, disregarded any Crying Heap approach - basically behaved like a cyborg, and spent the last year having recurring dreams where I revisit the event. In retrospect, I don't think I'd change what happened, but I'd deal with my reaction to it differently. (And it's okay to realise that now, because I'm young and there's plenty more bad things waiting to happen! Bring it.)

In an attempt to save this from being a whiny, self pitying blog entry, what I am trying to say is that it's okay to be upset. It's even okay to be bitter - just try not to die that way, it's not so cool. Whilst trying to avoid specific details within this blog, it's been hard to write, and so, here is something more accessible to everyone:

A Brief Musical Guide to Dealing with Brief-Grief (In No Particular Stage Order)

1. Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde
   In my opinion, Bob Dylan's best album, with some rather massive hints at grief in the form of relationships that ended and being okay with it. Not just for break ups, Bob Dylan is like an anthropologist sharing his findings about humans and pain in musical form. This might go somewhere between the Crying Heap and Bucking Up stages, but it's a wonderful album in general.
2. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
   Unfortunately you've probably already heard Skinny Love and you might be an unlucky one who thinks it's actually by Birdy. Well it's not, it's from the 2007 debut album released by Bon Iver which will definitely make you cry if you let it. I'm not sure I'd recommend it for those days where you're aiming for a 'happy go lucky' thing...
3. Frank Turner - Love, Ire & Song + The First Three Years
   In a stage of Bucking Up, with a smidgen of Bitterness, you need Frank Turner! With lyrics like "let's refuse to live and learn, let's make all our mistakes again" he manages to somehow actually make you feel okay about the fact you'll go through the same shit again one day. And he reminds you to have fun in the meantime.
4. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans
   Maybe I just wanted an excuse to drag this beauty of an album into this, because I'd have to give it a whole new category called 'Reflecting' - with brilliant tracks like "Someday You Will Be Loved", and lyrics about realizing certain things aren't meant to be.
5. Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend
   This album has pretty much no hint of grief (apart from the line in 'Campus' - "how am I supposed to pretend/I never want to see you again?") which is exactly what you need eventually! Distraction and Bucking Up, to a beautifully chirpy array of sounds. Just wonderful.

Realizing that it is time to 'clean up my act'

In a more formal social situation today, I was to discuss a shoe. A black Dr Martens boot for men, in fact, but that's not the point.
What I wanted to say is: "You need this shoe because let's face it, England's shit and it pisses it down all the time and you're going to get bloody soaked this winter."
What I actually said was: "You need this shoe because let's face it - England's .... (long awkward pause where I wonder if 'shit' is the only negative descriptive word I know) ... famed for bad weather and you're going to get .... (astounded that I made it so far without swearing) ... rather damp."

Later in the evening, when I got home, I looked at my Twitter feed. It appeared that maybe one of two Tweets would be clean, whereas the others featured a variety of foul words that I think it would be best not to repeat.
I read this Twitter feed, astounded and a bit ashamed, and thought to myself - "Blimey. Is this the impression I make on people who aren't lucky enough to have met me to my face? From Twitter, do I merely come across as a bad tempered little smoker who hasn't completed any formal English qualifications and picked up her vocabulary by watching bar brawls?"
Yes. Unfortunately, that is probably exactly how I might seem.

This is my dilemma: I like to swear. Just the same as how I like to smoke menthols, and I like to drink Old Rosie despite its dangerously deceitful alcohol percentage.
After I read a wonderful quote by Stephen Fry, I had always thought - yes! What a modern view on swearing. What a marvellous opinion. How very British to be swearing whenever one pleases. (Here is the quote for anyone who never saw it)

Swearing is a really important part of one's life. It would be impossible to imagine going through life without swearing and without enjoying swearing... There used to be mad, silly, prissy people who used to say swearing was a sign of a poor vocabulary -such utter nonsense. The people I know who swear the most tend to have the widest vocabularies and the kind of person who says swearing is a sign of a poor vocabulary usually have a pretty poor vocabulary themselves... The sort of twee person who thinks swearing is in any way a sign of a lack of education or a lack of verbal interest or -is just a fucking lunatic... I haven't met anybody who's truly shocked at swearing, really, they're only shocked on behalf of other people. Well, you know, that's preposterous... or they say 'it's not necessary'. As if that should stop one doing it! It's not necessary to have coloured socks, it's not necessary for this cushion to be here, but is anyone going to write in and say 'I was shocked to see that cushion there, it really wasn't necessary'? No, things not being necessary is what makes life interesting -the little extras in life.

At a time in my life where I need to make some moderately-sized changes, this might be an important one. In the days of social networking (and if you've read my previous blog you already know my feelings about that) I am less likely to meet a wonderful bloke and enjoy an Old Rosie in a pub garden together, than I am to meet said wonderful bloke, give him my name, only to have him search me on Twitter and think - "That girl needs to wash her mouth out with soap. Alone. Without my help."

And so as of this moment, please prepare to hear me use fabulously eccentric words and phrases like 'blimey', 'goodness', 'oh my', 'crikey', 'bar steward', 'mucking up'... (I'm getting lost now, does anyone have any inventive words?)

How Social Networking Ruined Your Life

I do not doubt that there is a correlation between the amount of spare time I seem to have, the amount of Charlie Brooker I watch, and my cynicism about the human race.

Over the summer I de-activated my Facebook account (though I remained a Twitter enthusiast) and enjoyed a strange world without pressure to enjoy things I don't enjoy, or gain any insights that were not vital to my survival. Upon my return to Facebook (and still a Twitter enthusiast) I came to realize a few things... and so, these are my reasons to support the undeniable fact that social networking has ruined, or is ruining, your lives.

1. Not tagged in any drunken photos from this weekend? Well I'm sorry: you clearly have no life. It's a fact. Maybe the club you went to on Friday night didn't have an official photographer. Maybe your mate's camera ran out of battery. But if there are no tagged photos of you looking shit-faced, snogging a stranger or exposing your genitalia, there is no doubt that you're a loser. You also have no friends or prospects. I'm sorry to be the one sharing this ugly truth with you. The Samaritans number is at the bottom.
2. You suddenly know an awful lot about popular 'culture' (Regardless of whether or not it should really be considered culture at all.) Maybe you don't tune in to The Only Way Is Essex, Made in Chelsea or X Factor, but you sure as hell know an awful lot about them! Aren't you lucky? This leads me to:
3. An X Factor 'coke scandal' is thrust into your face Now, I don't watch X Factor, but I don't need to - because thanks to social networking I know all about some young lad by the name of Frankie who, low and behold, has done coke. No one who lives in or near Oxford should be phased by this whatsoever when all you have to do is go into the lovely Jamacan bar on Cowley Road and within five minutes hear: "mate, you got any cake?" (Yes 'cake', because that's how they say it, don't you know?) There are plenty of individuals who partake in a bit of 'cake' but Twitter never trends about them, and I bet they're feeling really left out now. As for the people who really thought these geezers wanted a nice slice of Victoria Sponge - you must feel like a right tit now.
4. You know a lot of intimate and boring details about that bird who you met at... hang on, how do you know her again? Perhaps she 'just got out of the bath' or 'spent too much online.' God forbid she just 'ate a pizza'! Of your 769 Facebook 'friends', you probably met 30% of them on nights out that you can't remember, an extra 40% are friends of friends who you have no intention of meeting, and if you're lucky a whopping 30% of these people are actually your friends in real life! As for Twitter followers, a lot of those people who are so interested in those really exciting things you have to say are actually automatically tuned to follow you (or something high tech like that.) Sent a Tweet about being at Goring & Streatly train station? 'Goring & Streatly' is now following you on Twitter. Of course, if anyone is actually behind this account they might notice that your Tweet actually read "stuck in some shithole called Goring & Streatly", prepare to lose a follower.
5. The silent competition that is: Exam Results Day Gone are the days of worrying thatCambridge won't have you and you'll spend the next 3 years of your academic life at your second choice University - why oh why did you pick Barnsley Polytechnic of Really Obscure Subjects anyway? Oh no, your main worry on results day is "I hope Kevin didn't get three A*'s too because if 12 people like his gloating Facebook status and only 11 like mine then I might as well just be going to Barnsley Polytechnic of Really Obscure Subjects anyway."
6. Returning his stuff in a box? Make sure you delete all the photos of you eating each others faces off first. Even the break up has been revolutionized by social networking. It's not your fault that he cheated on you with that fat bird who works in the Post Office, and of course you need some time to cry about it, stay in bed, eat several boxes of Quality Street... but first you have to delete every bit of evidence that you were ever together. If you fail to do so then please, by your third day of moping around, expect fat Shelley to come to your house and punch you in the nose. Shelley's the only girl who gets to eat Kevin's face! He's off to Cambridge after all and who doesn't want a posh boyfriend who studies at Cambridge?

These are only a few of the less angry-comment-provoking opinions I have about social networking. Maybe I'll save some more for a rainy day. In the meantime: What do you hate most about social networking?

DISCLAIMER: This post is almost 100% tongue in cheek but it might offend you a bit. If it does, my best advice is not that you leave me any feedback, but that you go get a therapist for your inability to take a joke - even a badly written, long winded joke by someone who took no essay writing subject further than AS level, and cannot tell jokes.

Kevin and Shelley, characters appearing in this work, are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

As promised, you can contact the Samaritans best by following this link http://www.samaritans.org/talk_to_someone.aspx

They're a lovely bunch and will help convince you that your life really is worth living, even though you have no evidence that you were wankered at the weekend.

An introduction to this Blog

There were, quite frankly, not enough ways to waste my time. Sure, I can watch sitcom reruns back to back all day and night... but I encountered a problem: fictional characters are annoying. Their lives prompt live debates in my head (narrated by their American voices and canned laughter, of course) about how they, or how I, should be living.

So you may see my dilemma already, though I've killed so many brain cells watching these awful TV shows that I may not make any sense to anyone any more.

My dilemma is this: I need somewhere to rant. Twitter is a brilliant outlet for short bursts of anger but 140 characters can prove restrictive when I want to use big words in an attempt to remind everyone I still remember how to use a Thesaurus whilst supporting this lazy TV watching habit.

So, dear internet site, dear anyone who read this far. Prepare for some rants. They might even make sense.