Set your standards high ladies...

I've, over the years, had many conversations with friends about life and love; me listening, me talking, both of us crying into our beers talking about the 'ONE'.

Just this week I had another one, about trying to find someone, just a little other person (in this planet of millions) who wants to walk down the street, holding our hand, safe in the knowledge that they want us, just as we are, and we want them, just as they are. (Cue every girl in the world replaying 'that' moment from Bridget Jones Diary)

"I never want to work that hard, I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are. I need to know that you will always be, The same old someone that I knew, What will it take till you believe in me, The way that I believe in you." (Billy Joel - Just The Way you Are)

We seem to spend our entire lives talking about this social construct, this idea that life is all about hunting for 'the one', the media, and films tell us every other weekend that romance is easy, that there is always a happy ending, but are we trying to find something that doesn't exist? Romance is wonderful, love is wonderful, I honestly feel that there is AT LEAST one person out there for everyone - sometimes, the right person is there, all along, just at the wrong time, sometimes the wrong person is there at the right time, who knows how this world really works - maybe that is why we spend some many hours and £ living our lives through the TV sets and cinema screens, hoping that for a short while, the idea of the perfect person, can exist.

When we look for someone to share our lives with, our 'sights' have been set from when we were little, we learn what we like, who we like, and the type of person we hope to meet along the road. But when we get further down the road, and that 'perfect' person just hasn't appeared, do we set our sights lower? or do we have to give in for a life of celibacy?

I haven't every really had a type, I was late to this whole idea of dating, accepting who I was and letting someone in, but I knew she had to read, had to like films, had to know that I would need protecting sometimes from the demons that appear, but for the longest time, I didn't think that person could ever love me, do the type of people we really want actually exist? Maybe.

All of my friends like different types of people, little traits that fit so perfectly with them that they make that 'whole' that consists of two separate parts, fine by themselves, but together so much stronger. But it would seem, these people aren't out there, or just aren't in the right place just yet. But what do you do when life gives you pineapples and all you want to make is Lemonade? What are we meant to do, not everyone has that little bit of hope sitting inside of them, knowing that just around the corner, if the stars align, that person is waiting for you.

In the end, maybe the best thing you can do, is not give up.

I set my sights higher, instead of trying to find someone to fit the standards I thought I wanted, I stopped, I set my sights so high that I didn't even look.

In the end, someone decided that little ol' me was worth the fight, that I was worth spending the time getting to know, and in the end, they have turned into the perfect parts of me, when I was looking, they were so far out of my league that I actually listened when people said they would never be interested, then I stopped looking, they found me, saved me, and it's now every-kind-of-wonderful about my life.

Why not stop looking, love yourself, love your friends, love LIFE... then the perfect person will find you, tomorrow? Maybe not, but if your life is wonderful, maybe someone will just fit right in!

'How honesty broke this lesbian heart'

or 'How teenage TV told the truth'.

*spoilers for UK people who haven’t seen the Glee and Pretty Little Liars episodes that aired w/c 7^th March*

I’m going to admit this right here, right now. I cried on Wednesday evening, curled up on my sofa with the laptop resting on my lap, with the only sound that could be heard were the racking sobs as I tried to compose myself. I was inconsolable, my wife came home, unsuspecting, and within minutes I was clutched against her again, feeling the sobs run through me. You would think now, (unless you know me personally of course) that something heartbreaking had happened, in a sense it had, I watched Glee.

Those of you in the UK may not be aware of the episode that aired on Tuesday night in the US, and some, like me, like to watch the brand new episodes so that you can have the delight of watching them twice. This episode, was different though, different from the rest of Glee, from the rest of anything really. It was honest. Heartbreaking, this was me, wish I’d not waited till I was alone, why didn’t I have this, honest.

Whether you like Santana as the bitchy cheerleader, or the crying vulnerable wreak we saw at the end, no-one can dispute Naya Rivera’s skills at portraying a feeling that EVERYONE, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, and all the others, have felt. The confusion of feelings, the pain at letting them out, and the heartbreak at admitting that everything could change.

And it’s not just Glee, I then watched ‘Pretty Little Liars’, some of you might look at me and ask why? Because it’s a really good show, and I didn’t know that Paige would do ‘that’ speech; I was delicate enough after Glee, but TV is finally being honest (and I am not complaining), yes, its drama, its heightened, it’s made glossy and shiney, but its honest. That pain that was burning across Paige’s eye’s when she looked at Emily and admitted, that, for now, she was so scared of everything changing, in a world that was always changing anyway (adolescence) that she couldn’t admit it, couldn’t admit that she was gay, that pain was real. That pain I felt sting my cheeks as I sat alone in my bedroom at university, knowing that perhaps, if I were honest, if I had the courage to open that door and talk to someone about what my heart was telling me, life would alter so epically that I might not even be left standing.

“If I say it out loud, if I say I’m gay – the whole world is gonna change.”

That pain that Santana felt, at the labels, at the confusion, at the complete emotional turmoil at admitting something like that, we’ve all had that, we may not have had the courage to say it out loud, to risk it, but we’ve all done it, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, whatever, we’ve all had that heart-wrenching moment when we realize that the prize is far greater than the risk, for Santana it was Brittney, for me it was the searing pain of realizing that I was falling in love with a best friend. I spent many a cold, lonely night sat on steps outside the union trying to gain enough courage to be in the same room as her, or to tell her. (in the end I was lucky, she kissed me, and then through the process of texts/emails we worked out what we could be). But dear god did it hurt in the process!

In Pretty Little Liars Paige has the experience of Emily to see how the world changes, we as the audience have already gone through everything with Emily, the pain, the heartbreak the sheer frustration and the inevitable let down of teenage life. She’s worried, but she goes to Emily, talks to her, and maybe, we might see in the long-term, that she finds the courage that we all, hopefully, inevitably find.

Santana and Britney, have the delightful (serious girl crush on her right now) Holly Holiday, she is exactly what those two girls needed, someone who didn’t judge, didn’t try to seem concerned, she just opened up the forum (with some killer jokes) and let them explore. I must admit to finding their talk with her, my downfall.

Until I went to university I was sheltered, not purposefully, not intentionally, but I was sheltered. Innocent, naïve; and looking back; very different from them all. What 16 year old, hasn’t kissed anyone but their first (and only) boyfriend at 12? What 16 year old wishes that somehow the empty loss in her would just go away, but doesn’t really know why it all doesn’t feel right, as if the body she is in isn’t really there, that it’s as if she is the ghost to her twin sisters reality. Come to think about it, there are probably countless/thousands of people just like me, but I hope, now, with the creation of these honest dialogues, these storylines that bring it to the forefront, that it’s ok to be confused, its ok to want something different, maybe now, even just a little, there will be a few less teenagers who don’t know, even if they have to work through their feelings, at least they know that someone, somewhere before them, has been there. I wish I’d had someone to talk to, it took me until I was nearly 19 to have ‘that’ conversation with anyone.

I’m excited to see the next steps in these journeys, to see if Paige, over the space of the series can find a small amount of courage to be herself (and I wish her all the best because I wish I’d even had the courage to talk to one person about my fear at that age). I’m excited to see if Britana will develop, and at this moment, I don’t care that Britney is with Artie, because as much as I want to wrap Santana up in a cuddle and never let her go, this is an honest story, so lets keep it so.

We all have so many stories to tell, we are all so different with different lives, lets see some more, different stories on TV. And I’m even proud to talk about the storylines with colleagues, with friends, with anyone who will god-damn listen, because this is big, this is visibility in US shows that people watch with their parents/siblings/friends and for once, lesbians exist!

The inevitable resolution...

I am predisposed to reject anything that I have to do because of what the world conforms to, however in the grand scheme of things I love traditions, not the silly ones like drinking and eating too much at christmas, but the real ones, like remembering that Christmas (although a religious holiday) is really about recognising that a little support, love and light is the way to make the world a better place.

For the most part, the 1st of January of any year is lost in the tick of another box and another year started, resolutions aren't my thing, I hate the idea of being forced to want to change my life because it just so happens to be a new year, this year however, the new year, or my need to change, has arrived at the right time. I feel so ready to start this, and 2011 is the right year.

Now before we get into this, 2010 was not a bad year, not even close to one, it was mind blowing, and perfect, mainly because it was like a roller-coaster with the epic highs and dips that for each moment you really did wonder which way was up. I got married and fell in love all over again and I settled and and I changed and it was crazy, but in an utterly brilliant way.

But now, now that the hum of the party has quietened, and the wedding album is made, I feel like it's time I sorted me out, little old me, who sometimes worries that i wasn't a waste of time, or that if I hadn't been ginger would i really be any use at all.

I hate the idea that when someone asks me, which they invariably will, 'so what's your new years resolution?' I will actually have an answer, but this year I'm doing it for me, to work out who the grown up me is, so that when I shake someones hand I know who I am introducing them to.

Actually, add to that, I am doing it because I had a nightmare a few weeks ago where all my loved ones were slowly moving away from me, and their memory of me was only the me that exists now, and I realised that I've done very little to make anyone proud to know me, and so in my little way, I hope the resolutions below make you a little more proud to know me...

1. Write 5 poems a month
2. Finish A Shortcut To Heartbreak (novel)
3. Compile and distribute/sell a BWS poetry collection
4. Take the positives from a situation, don't dwell on the negatives
5. Do a Triathlon (this one is for me!!)

So join me? Not in silly resolutions, but in one (or many) that might make someone proud? (mine may not be outstanding worldly contributions, but for me to help the world I first need to sort me out)

Note Edit:

The Kezzatron has reposted... you can read her reply, and the rest of her blog here...

http://fannybelligs.tumblr.com/post/2517870392/a-response-to-the-itinerant-poet

Lesbianism isn't scary...

© Image courtesy of BBC

Lip Service and me

*disclaimer, I make no promises that this will be a concise and detailed look at identity, but then who really knows 100% how they came to be them?

I imagine that every blog under this lesbian sun (based in the UK at any rate) will do a write up on ‘Lip Service’ and its new place in the history of Lesbians on TV and in pop culture. This is all well and good, but as I was trying to explain the show to a straight friend who tends to walk slowly backwards whenever I suggest a TV show (she didn’t take kindly to One Tree Hill and now forever takes my opinion with a pinch of salt), I realised that I needed this show more than just an excuse to watch hot women on TV. I needed it more than just a good tick in the right box for the BBC’s representation of lesbians. I needed this to find my identity.

That might sound like a strange sentence coming from a 25-year-old lesbian who’s been out of the closet for the past 6 years and is currently enjoying being a newly-wed. But my chat with my friend got me thinking, I have a very involved relationship with lesbians on TV, my partner seems to think it’s really just me looking at them, but it’s more than that, and somewhere in this blog post I hope to try and explain it.

Before all that though, ‘Lip Service’ has managed to break into the mainstream, yes I am fully aware that it was on at 10.30 on BBC3 but for the first time in I don’t know when, newspapers were covering the show (The Guardian Guide did a very good article on 09.10.10) and the BBC seemed almost, dare I say it, proud of their new show. This show was needed. FACT! Any lesbian, bisexual, gay, transgendered person who is struggling with coming out, struggling with the fact that they now think they are less than normal, need a show that showed a day, a normal day, in a normal city, where life just happened. I know for TV situations were heightened, angles were cleverly shot, and the ladies just a little bit too hot, but this was predominantly a show about a group of friends, who happen to mostly be lesbians. The upsetting thing is that this is the first of its kind. When the next show comes along (I hope along side Lip Service not to replace it) I hope it sits along side Eastenders, or Emmerdale, not because it’s a show about lesbians, but because it’s a drama show, that everyone should watch.

So, back to me, for as long as I can remember I’ve sought out role models, not the pretty models or girl group singers who people aspire to be, I’ve sought after someone on TV, a character, or a real life person, who hints at a life I could lead. And so, since the age of 16 (without me really understanding why), I’ve wanted to watch something other than the normal straight couple, and their beautiful rom-com relationship. Even when it got gritty, and the realism hit, I still didn’t connect. I needed something gay. I’d like to point out now that I do not watch lesbian shows just to look at the women, I watch it for the interactions, the relationships and the persona, if you were a straight lady, you would not enjoy watching a drama about two gay men, as much as you would like watching one about a woman and a man, not because you don’t want to know their story, but we all have a requirement to watch something that connects to our own lives.

At 18 I came out, to a few people, but I did it, out of the closet and into the big wide lesbian world. I knew I was gay, I knew that I fancied women and men did nothing for me, but up until then, I’d never met another lesbian, never seen anything on TV (Tipping the Velvet came out when I was 16 and opened my eyes to a world I knew nothing about but at that point it was just a horrible experience of sitting and watching it with my twin sister) I was the typical middle class suburban lesbian who didn’t know a lesbian if it bit her on the nose. But I knew I was one, and I knew that I needed a little bit of help finding out just who I really was. For me (and for many lesbians of my generation) TV was the way you found out who you were, pop culture, TV dramas, soaps and documentaries offered a depiction of life that we were meant to gobble up and not question. If someone was a chef, it was ok to like cooking, If someone rode a motorbike, it was cool to want one, that’s how society works these days. But where did that leave this little lost lesbian. Stranded!

Because I couldn’t be a lesbian, to the public eye at least, for the majority of my relationship with my first girlfriend, I threw myself into finding other lesbians on film and TV, I discovered a wealth of identity and confusion that I could pick apart and weave myself into, without ever having to leave my lonely little student bedroom. It was at this point that I found some courage. I bought Diva. So many people could probably tell you the horror they went through when secretly ducking into WH Smiths on the high street and finding the lesbian magazine, and then going to buy a really gossipy magazine to cover it with so that you could hide it on the counter, and not look the shop assistant in the eye. I went to university in a very small town, and I was petrified I’d meet someone I knew who would out me most publically, bringing shame on my girlfriend and me. I needed to grow up. But at the time I didn’t know that. So I took my lesbians home and devoured all the copies I could find. I needed to see what other lesbians looked like; Diva probably helped me more than I’m currently able to admit. I walk up to the counter now with pride, no more hiding, I only ever buy diva on its own, or at the supermarket, and always wish that the checkout assistant notices it, and looks up, and comment, in a positive way. They never do, but I like quite how far I’ve come.

Even though now I am happy, with my wife and my possible career change, there is always going to be a bit of me that needs to see lesbians on TV. I need to know that there are others out there, having normal lives, and normal days, they aren’t just the token character, who goes through the coming out period (more stressful that giving birth!!) and then just change their mind. We need characters that walk down the street holding hands, behind the main characters, characters who find that they’ve fallen out or in of love but its not some dramatic storyline. This matters to me. My identity has been formed now. I know that. But I need to know that one day, I won’t be shouted at in the street, that I won’t be told to go to the men’s changing room, that when I take my kids to school in the future I’m not going to be looked at in a funny way.

When I was trying to find my identity there was nothing there, I had to form my own idea of what a lesbian should be like, and now its constantly changing, I’m learning what it’s ok to be, how I should make myself just be the exact person I want to be, and I’m learning how the world sees lesbians, TV warts and all. And now, for newly outed kids, who need an idea of what life could be for them, they need to know that we’re out there, to support them, but also just living our ordinary lives. Let’s hope Lip Service can keep delivering the honesty and realism that it seems to be hinting at.

For more information here are some links:

Diva – www.divamag.co.uk

Lip Service - http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00tq4d9

Tipping the Velvet - http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/tippingthevelvet/

LGBT Support - http://queery.org.uk/StaticPages/Advice.asp Numbers and contact details

What is in a name? The surname argument

'Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit.'

~Salman Rushdie

As many people do in the run up to their wedding, I have been thinking a lot about names, their meanings, and their connection to our identity. It's always the way that when something is due to change you realise your relationship with it as it exists then.

Is your surname your identity? or just just a small part of the bigger sum?

As a woman, from a young age you tend to accept that your surname will inevitably change, you might even be one of those kids that scrawls across their notebooks with the new name you would have if you settled down and married (at the age of 14) the boy you seems fascinated with at the time. I did it. I'm not going to hide from it, my pencil case was covered in every imaginable version of all my could be names. But then the questioning came along. The 'was I different', and then the names stopped. I had enough problems identifying myself for me, let alone adding a new name into the equation. Questioning your identity from the inside is an enlightening experience, and nearly 10 years on from the first questions, I like the person I have become, and my name has been along for the ride.

Even if you weren't going to become the straight woman who would marry the 'prince' names are still a huge part of your life. I stopped looking at my name as something that would change for a while, and it made it feel much more like it was part of me, a little ink scrawled across me, but for a lot of people, their name has a negative effect.

Bad childhoods, sucky parents, no parents, divorce, realisation that you are in a marriage that isn't right, realising that to become the better person you keep inside you need to change the outside, running away, starting again... all very good reasons to change your surname, but does it make you a new person? or just a stronger you?

I've often wondered if changing your name creates a new version of yourself, or just a re-labeled old copy? Maybe next year I'll be able to tell you. I bring this topic to you as a few things are starting to arrive through the mail in my new 'married' name and its exciting, but a strange concept to get your head around.

I am proud of my surname, I like the sound of it, I like the history of it, maybe that's why I am just adding stuff onto my name, instead of re-writing myself, I'm just making a new addition, and its quite calming. I don't need to be a new person, I can just have a nice new bit, all shiny and special. Other people don't change their names at all when they get married, for them I guess their name is much more of their identity. A part they aren't quite willing to give up, and I feel like that's a very brave thing to do, it's much easier to give up, instead of staying resolute in your wishes.

I've often wondered if your name becomes more of your identity as a gay woman? because it's part of you, and you're proud of the person you've become? Maybe I need to do a straw poll, find out if there are people who use their names as their identity, or their identity as their names.

"Is your surname part of your identity? Largely so,yes. Having been married b4 i came out, I immediately wanted to revert to my maiden name when divorced - felt more me.(Sarah Watts)"

Don't we judge people on their names all the time? Like we assume that we have to 'improve' our names to be famous, and we think that we could never been exciting if we have a plain name. I think it was about time that a Jane Smith, or an Adam Edwards took to the stage and changed it all. (I am fully aware that this will probably never happen and fancy names will forever be connected to fame.)

I am fully aware that this blog has no real thread, just lots of questions. But isn't that what an identity is, just a lot of questions you spend your life answering?

Names are part of your identity, it makes you want to fight for or against what it represents, but it's not everything you are, its a small part of the massive sum, its like one tiny decimal in a very long division sum. So don't let the name that you were born into shape your life, use your soul, and mind and body to shape your life, and just let your name be the tag, scribbled across the bottom corner, almost out of sight.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Sun-Dodgers grace Latitude

I must start this blog by just stating that Latitude was awesome... FACT! It was full of fun times, and music, and drink, and food, and comedy, and poetry and literature and lazy afternoons... I think that makes the perfect long weekend!

We saw so many great artists that its ridiculous to even consider it, but I shall try and break it down for you all. Before i talk about the brilliant artists, I shall venture into the relms of self-publication... There was an open-mic event in the poetry tent and I was stupid enough to sign up... this video is the harrowing (for me) evidence.

But enough about me and my escapades, here's a little breakdown into what and who we saw:

This is not technically an artist but we did see a mini Dr Who who was dressed up perfectly, with his sister doing a very good impression of a small Amy Pond, it was ridiculously cute, especially as the little Dr Who had a shock of ginger hair and they looked like the love children of the Dr and amy pond.

The Sunrise Arena was this perfect little tent hidden up on the hill in the woods and was a brilliant venue to see Lissie and First Aid Kit in the days, and Darwen Deez in the evening. I've like all these bands before but hearing them live has really got me excited about their stuff, and them as musicians. Lissie was astounding and certainly a voice that is going places!

Florence and the Machine on the Obelisk arena was the perfect way to end the first day at the festival. She previewed a couple of new songs, suitably dark and exciting and it was so much fun jumping around in the dark to all the classic songs. We even sung happy birthday for her little sister.

Frank Turner is an old time favourite for us and it was so much fun yelling political songs in the sunshine of an afternoon.

Mumford and sons were epic... i love these guys probably more than i should and the banjo always makes me dance, so to see them live was brilliant.

To contrast all these afternoons spent with male bands Laura Marling and Corrine Bailey Rae were peaceful, and beautiful and such a lovely way to chillax with the lady love with a cider in the sun.

Moving away from Music we probably managed to spend 40% of our time living by the lake, or in the two tents! We saw some beautiful ballet by Sadlers Wells by the lake and despite the crowds it was awe inspiring.

The poetry tent was a hot-bed for new talents and it was really good to see how new people are doing their thing... Joe Dunthorne and Luke Wright were especially good (go check them out!) and we even got to see Phil Jupitus as Porky the Poet (and comedian) for a whole hour of hilarious stories.

A highlight for the lady (and myself) was to see Sebastian Faulks speak and read from his two new books, he even managed a rather wonderful rendition of Alan Bennett for his Pistache book... (if this is not on youtube it should be!)

So this may not be quite as succinct as my normal blog posts, but take it as a representation of the madness and ad hoc nature of a festival.

To end i shall leave you with my poem about the whole occasion.

* * *

If the monsters came I knew I could find you

with your torch and your whippy sign

against the mist of the fountain

a projection of our destination

The daring sharp showers interrupted

a perfectly sedate sunshine

against the grass and tent collage

countless lost souls calling keep coming where?

in the forest at the top of the hill

as the guitar picks away as a soundtrack

the trees are whispering echoes of laughter

and mini-me doctor with his shock of ginger hair

dances with his sister and self

yesterday socks and wellingtons soak up the beer

from the animal hat-ed groups

their neon paint smeared across their faces

There’s those sneaky groups of couples

who don’t register the queue

and the families who use their kids

as their reason to go first

before the middle class find the need

for a helpful chalky rennie

and as the music begins to fade

the lights dance across the sky

I find you took away my pillow

and now my heads under my heart.

The Perils of a Cyclist

Someone during my weekend adventure decided that they wanted to start a diatribe about how much they hated cyclists, he compared them to canoeist who float down the river right in the way of bigger boats. I decided not to argue with him (he's quite a bit bigger than me) but I did want to make the point that as cyclists, we have our problems too, and we do not like getting the blame for being in the way. (we're legal road users too!!)

So, i've decided to tell you about some of the perils of being a cyclist...

Blind drivers. I am quite obvious, I wear a big red and white helmet, and I generally ride in the road, not hugging the curb, how then, did you pull out of a parking space, cross the road, and pull into another space on the other side of the road without seeing me, even though I had been cycling down said road for a good 5 minutes.

Angry, Impatient Drivers. I came across a lady in her car trying to zip down the lane (it was an attractive option as it was empty) and as i cycled down the said lane, keeping to the left of the lane (the right of the lane was a concrete barrier and i wasn NOT being pushed into that in a hurry) she started to honk her horn, even though in the lane that I needed to be in as i was turning right, she drove off rather quickly after she got passed me, I hope because she realised she was wrong.

Drivers who like to use the bike lane. Most drivers get annoyed at cyclists taking up their lanes so they have to go around us, understandable to a certain point, now why do you need to take up my little red lane (that isn't really big enough for me as it is) so that i can't get down the road, and don't get me started about the drivers who sit in the red boxes at junctions... THEY ARE TO PROTECT CYCLISTS!!

Anyway....

One of the most dangerous perils for a cyclist is in fact other cyclists, the posh types who like to scowl at you and shake their heads when you decided that although you are on the right of the park path, it would be more dangerous to go to the left (and correct) as there are pedestrians and her coming towards you.

If you are a cyclist who likes to use the park paths, and the bike paths (those that are part of the pavement but split into two for bikes and pedestrians) then you should be warned of people. That's right, I said people. Grown ups who like to stroll down the path clearly marked with a white bike, children who run around crazily and even dogs (not kept on leads) who stroll so slowly down the middle of the path that you have to stop just in case.

*insert disclaimer here, I actually like people, children and animals*

But for all the perils, cycling is a good thing, wasn't the most exciting thing when you were a kid when you got your first bike and you finally got the stabalizers off? So at what point did cycling become something that people started to resent? (because god forbid we shouldn't try and get fit and save the envirnoment a little) It makes no sense...but then alot of things don't!

And on that note I am off to recover from the latest peril, Marcus and the stationary bicycle, 150RPM is not human, so I need an Ice bath.