Why I Don't Write

I am not writing because...

I'm terrified.

The reason I can't overcome this is...

because I'm terrified that I'll actually try and do this and I'll be bad at it, and then I won't be able to fantasise about it being my escape from a humdrum, normal life where I feel I have no control over my own destiny. I'm terrified that I will lose hope. That I'm not, in fact, creative or clever enough to write and be successful. I don't feel like I deserve it. I think it's in me but because I haven't been keeping a journal of poetry since I was 12, or taken any classes, or been disciplined enough to keep up a blog, I don't feel like I am 'allowed' to now try my hand at this, something that so many try and fail at, that so many have spent years of dedication to perfect their art. I'm terrified that it's too big for me, and I am not good enough.

The benefit I am getting from not writing is...

Having the idea of being writer hover in front of me, proclaiming 'one day I'll do it and it will save me'.

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So, you're terrified. So what? Being scared just means this is something worth doing, something that will be difficult and that you have to have patience with and work hard at. If you weren't terrified, I'd be worried. If you weren't terrified, you'd have an ego that was too big. Be terrified, but do it anyway. After all, how mad will you be if on your deathbed all you can think is that you should have just given it a go? Get over it. You're wasting time. Your fear is justified. 

As for losing hope, losing a sanctuary, the fear of missing the daydream if you fail. You probably will fail, at least once, but probably more than you will care to count. But failure is part of the process.

But I just don't think I'm good enough. My confidence is shot.

And how will you ever know if you don't try? You have, albeit minimally, written before, had blogs, kept journals. You stop because of your fear, and because you are impatient and all over the place. Just because a blog doesn't have a million followers in a week, or you don't come up with something that is a social media sensation with a trending hashtag the first time you sit down to a computer, doesn't mean you aren't any good. One day at a time, work, improve, find your own way and stop caring about that shit.

Next. Save you? Save you from what? 

From my crappy 9 to 5 existence where my life doesn't matter. From being invisible. From the mundane and ordinary. From feeling worthless. 

OK, writing isn't your ticket out. You have to respect it, not just imagine it is something that make you interesting to other people and give you some made up fantasy life. Your life isn't a movie. You will probably still have to have a crappy 9 to 5, or something that pays the bills because you don't know what will come of this. This is journey and you don't know if it will 'save' you eventually or not. But if the idea of doing it won't leave you alone, then just fucking get on with it because the internal moaning and worry and panic is exhausting. 

But it feels like this huge thing, this revered art form that only is only for the few and what makes me so special to even imagine I could be a 'Writer'?

That's ridiculous. You have read a lot of crap in your time, plus there is so much content out there because this IS an accessible thing which you don't need to put on a pedestal. How many 'successful' blogs have you come across where you think the writing is poor? You're better than those and yet you don't think you belong here. And you have a yearning to dig inside and throw your imagination at paper, but you just don't know how to access it. Being a writer is only huge if you choose to look at it that way, if you think of it in terms of book launches and prizes and film deals and being interviewed on breakfast TV. That is an idea you have to get out of your head. You have to compartmentalise this, take it in small chunks, and baby step your way along. Don't revere it, writing is not your god, or your king; it is your friend, and it is on your level.

Ch...Ch...Ch...Ch...CHANGES

I had a dream about Bowie last night.

I've been having incredibly vivid dreams in the last 2 weeks. Last night I was at a party in a Gothic hotel owned by big Dave himself, where you were allowed to roller skate in the halls, and my old school friend was gluing cheese biscuits to a door.

Now, it felt tenuous, but I wondered if my strange and disturbed nights are stress related. I thought I would start with, of course, Google:

Please don't let me be pregnant. Please, please, please. WHY DID I GOOGLE IT!?

That's one theory according to a couple of the hokey listicles I found, but stress, along with illness, depression, the taking of certain drugs, and menopause can all apparently have the same effect.

Now, before I panic, I am going to assume that over pregnancy (and hopefully the others as well), my dreams are more likely linked to stress, if there is any link at all. You see, it's all change in camp St. George. 

As of the 14th November, I'll be leaving old London town and moving to Cambridge. 

Sorry if you were expecting something more grand, like I'm packing up my worldly possessions to go and live in Patagonia or something. But remember my post about starting small? Baby steps? Figuring out what I want to do? (No? Pffft. Go on, have a read).

Well this is a step. And actually it feels quite big as I'll also be moving in with my partner as well, and last time I did that it was the beginning of the end of a relationship and left me a little fragile. Also, as some of you will sympathise, leaving London is weird and hard. It tries to hold onto you, and you have to get a crowbar and prise yourself away from it's bright lights and promises. 

And even though you complain about it regularly, the smug sense of being a 'Londoner' will threaten to keep you here indefinitely and no amount of mocking from those outside the M25, laughing at your rent prices, will convince you otherwise.

I was one of these people, but in the last year London has started to feel less and less like my place.

Go on, get all Samuel Johnson on me, I know you want to.

I'm not tired of life, I'm tired of paying extortionate amounts of cash to live in a shoebox or with strangers with irksome habits. I'm tired of the traffic, the pollution, the tube, how long it takes to get everywhere, of dancing with death every time I cycle, of rudeness, and the sheer amount of people. I was walking out of London Bridge yesterday and it felt more like I was trying to battle my way through the hoards at Glastonbury than trying to get to work.

The bads have crept out in front of the goods, and although London will retain a big piece of my heart, thanks to it's kookiness, it's inimitable variety and charm, and all the ways it made me grow, it's time for a new chapter. 

So we have moving house, moving to a new city, moving in with a partner. The biggest contributor to my anxiety though is probably what I do about work. I've been dreading talking to my boss. But the transition has to begin, even though essentially I have no idea what I'm doing and what to do next. 

The arrangement I have now thankfully come to will give me 2 extra days a week to explore whatever paths I feel the need to explore, which I think will be food based. Food is something I'm passionate about, and the impact I'd like to have in my corner of the world is getting more people to eat healthy, tasty, local and seasonal food that is sourced ethically.

Cambridge has a wonderful but still growing independent food scene so it should be a good place to start. Also, look how pretty:

Photo credit: http://www.jamesappleton.co.uk/ 

Good job mate. 

My Hypocritical Life

I'm having a crisis about the world again.

I have regular internal battles, arguing with myself about things, about what's right and wrong, about who is good and bad, and how I should live as a result. It's why I think I often don't come across as very opinionated, but really it's more that I just change my mind on things too often or just plain don't know the right path.

Obviously there are things I find fundamentally wrong. Genocide, for example. Bullying. Torture. Oppression of minorities. Katie Hopkins.

But on other things I seem to face a daily dilemma, the biggest of which is animals.

I love animals. Truly. But I eat meat and dairy and wear leather.

'How can you love animals when you do these things?' I hear you ask. This is a fair question, and I see your point. I've grown up with pets, so I am one of these people who sees cats and dogs differently to how I see a cow, sheep or pig.

I do try and eat 'ethically sourced' and 'free range' where possible...does that help? No, you yuppie. I saw you in that greasy spoon that day you were hungover, and I doubt you asked for the journey of that sausage from farm to plate.

I am a hypocrite. I AM A HYPOCRITE. Because I know how meat and diary are produced on a mass scale. What happens to calves, what happens to chicks, how pigs are kept. And yet so often I reap the rewards of their mistreatment with a brie and bacon burger, sporting my leather boots and woolly jumper, while at the same time pondering how humans can be so cruel to the dogs they keep in horrific conditions for food in other parts of the world.

HYPOCRITE.

I'm not comfortable with this. I need to make more of an effort.

While taking an inordinate amount of time to write this post, my Googling snowballed and I came across a number of books, posts, essays about the ethical dilemma of eating meat, and generally the consumption of animal products, as well as the tangents then stumbled down concerning the effect of our massive population on the world generally.

Not to mention the horrific videos and images from, for example, PETA. I won't post links. If you are having the same concerns as me, you'll find this stuff easy enough and I'm not going to shove it in your face because you should form your own opinions.

So, this is a basic example of what self destructive nonsense goes on in my head:

'Free range sausage is it? But wait...where is your jumper from?? Do you know what they do to sheep?'

'Oh, so you've started buying ethically sourced woolly jumpers? Doesn't help the kids working in the sweat shops who probably made your pants does it?'

'Oh, so you're making your own pants? Well, did you know that the production of the cotton means the use of lots of harmful pesticides??'

And so on.

There's so much to look at, to debate and consider, I exhaust myself to a point of hopelessness sometimes. It's easy to just put your fingers in your ears because the amount of bad in the world is overwhelming, and you feel like you, tiny human, can make no difference against big, rich and powerful corporations.

A friend of mine said something very helpful though when we had a conversation in a similar area. That this attitude is unhelpful. It leads to disenfranchisement that means good people do nothing, and we know what that means - evil triumphs.

So, it's true that more widely, in terms of policy, animal rights laws, fairness for farmers, fairness for producers, affordability, responsible sourcing, and much more, that things need to change. But I can't look at that. It's like the sun. It's too big. What I need to do is personal, and through personal changes we can effect change.

It's key to remember here that there are wonderful people out there already doing this, and spreading the good in their communities and wider. Making a one person stand can make more of a difference than we think. Like the ladies on my street turning a wasteland plot into a community garden where we can grow veg - you're brilliant.

Something as big a lifestyle change as becoming vegan isn't going to happen at the moment. But the change I can make initially is to educate myself, and this is what I have started doing. Until recently, for example, I didn't know a lot about how wool was produced on mass and it's not pretty. So instead of buying the wool I want from Amazon, I've found a little shop in North London - Knit With Attitude - that ensure their wool is sourced ethically.

I have ordered the following books:

The Omnivore's Dilemma
Eating Animals
What Nature Does For Britain

And I will change what I buy, if I buy it at all, as and when my opinions inevitably evolve. I'll continue to make the effort to buy 'happy' meat, fish and dairy. And if the outcome of my research is that 'happy' isn't all it's cracked up to be, then I will reconsider again.

I want to rely less on supermarkets and am going to try and buy more from local producers and retailers. I already try to buy seasonal fruit and I don't understand why all of Tesco's apples are from far off lands when British apples are so damn good in season.

Some of you will think this isn't enough, while others of you will be thinking, 'shut up you damn lefty, liberal hippy'. I'll take it. But I hope that making small, personal changes, will not only reduce my anxiety about the whole thing, but perhaps lead to bigger changes and, maybe, inspire someone else to jump on the bandwagon. If so, winner. And I'll keep you posted :-)

Lists a la Susan Sontag

Things I Like

Fireworks, singing, daffodils, clear water, dogs, wine, rain, thunderstorms, baking, crochet, lists, mud, open fires, cooking risotto, airports, music festivals, curry, snow, the sea, folk music, cats, dark chocolate, iced coffee, steam trains, sparkling water, novels set in dystopian futures, feminists, honey, the NHS, musical theatre, sci-fi, patisseries, Autumn, yellow bananas, Christmas, Sunday roasts, running, bicycles, food markets, beer, countryside, cabins, tattoos, giving gifts, crumpets, beer o'clock, dancing, the moon, beetroot, pie

Things I Don't Like

Clothes shopping, brown bananas, green bananas, Facebook, small sofas, mosquitoes, noisy eaters, bus stations, tabloids, daytime TV, Katie Hopkins, being cold, liquorice, the silent treatment, narcissism, hot olives, wet feet, football, having my photo taken, compliments, snoring, noisy children, heavy metal, long nails, cryptic crosswords, cold bread, supermarkets

Stuck

I've never felt quite so frustrated.

I seem to be joining what are apparently swathes of unsatisfied corporate employees who aren't content to have their office job, collect their pay, and just be grateful. The (largely) middle class hoards who have climbed a ladder, plateaued, and are now smashing their work mobiles into their faces wailing, 'there must be more to life than this!'

And I'm not imagining this trend. This exodus by so many is evidenced by, for example, specialist career service Escape the City, who boast having 219,355 people on their books trying to break free of their corporate shackles. The Guardian (naturally) has a whole section about these types called, 'I Gave It All Up'.

Whether it is to start a business, forge a new path in something meaningful, or just selling up and jetting off, it seems many aren't content to settle for 'meh'. 

Although I'm teetering on the edge of chucking it all in, my problem is that I'm staring into an abyss and shouting, 'what the hell do I do instead then?' It's incredibly frustrating to feel so dissatisfied with where your choices have taken you, but not know how to begin to fix it.

How do I 'live my dreams' (as vapid, 'inspirational' quotes posted by morons on Instagram keep telling me to), if I don't know what my dream is?

So, as someone who is not 100% sure they want to live in a yurt in Wales keeping bees, I started by poking around on the internet. Escape the City was the first 'what should I do with my life' resource I came across. I bought their manifesto which contains some useful tips about overcoming certain barriers like fear, inexperience and money that keep you stuck. Their jobs board is good too, and as much as I'd love to take part in their 'Escape Tribes' that help you 'find direction and transition towards more fulfilling work', unfortunately I don't have £2,250 in my back pocket. Looks fun though.

But before job sites and start-up network events can be useful, I need to figure out what the hell I want to achieve.

I came across a pretty wonderful book via the equally wonderful Brainpickings called The Crossroads of Should and Must by Elle Luna, which aims to help you discover your passion. It's process helps to draw out your true interests and curiosities as seeds of what you ultimately would enjoy doing, then advises on how you grow these in a practical sense. It's why I bought a journal, make scribbled notes to myself about things I like/dislike and decided to keep a blog.

Not that being a full time blogger is what I want to ultimately do or anything (that is a very noisy world), but jotting down my thoughts, feelings, and rants is a very cathartic process that helps me see things more clearly. Additionally, it indulges a silly and creative side that I'd pretty much forgotten about in my boring 9-5 existence.

As a result, my current position is thus:

1. I'm aiming to focus my interests using the power of the BLOG.
2. I don't want to spend 8 hours a day at a desk 
3. I am interested in working outdoors, working with food, promoting sustainable living, being kinder to others and the world I live in.
4. I like the idea of organising events or festivals, bringing people together to connect and have a jolly old time.

I'm not sure how this manifests yet, but I'm contacting relevant bodies to try and get some experience through volunteering or part time work. Seeing as starting again is fairly terrifying, I think that taking small steps, meeting new people, and seeing what doors open is a good approach.

As someone with no house or assets to sell, no expensive habits I can quit, or a rich relative about to die, money will be a barrier at some point...I'll cross that bridge when I come to it and let you know how it goes.

Finally, I hope you don't think me ungrateful. I'm thankful for the good things in my life because, well, I'm not a monster. But, when the best response I can muster to the question 'how are you' is, 'Yeah, OK, thanks' then something needs to change. I'm fed up of seeing myself become bitter as a result of spending every day anxious, often unhappy, and then seeing these ripples of negativity affect those around me. Clearly, I am not alone.

So, here I am at the very start of my journey, wanting to make something of myself, be happier, and send out positivity. It'll be a slog, figuring this out. There'll be failures, I imagine it'll be all sorts of emotional. But that'll be OK, and I have a feeling it'll be worth it in the end.

Here's to Sleeping Around

Hello there.

Here is a piece that I wrote for a friend's sex toy website blog.

Phwoar.  

http://peachykeen.uk.com/blogs/news/42426433-robyn-st-george-my-promiscuous-year