The loneliness of the on-line poster

Yesterday my friend Keith Donovan wrote a poem, or to be accurate, a parody, which echoed my own feelings so closely that I decided to reproduce it here - with his permission of course.

We both subscribe to a rather small message board list on line called The Steamie, which on some days is very busy, but on others almost totally inactive. Keith posts from his office and I post from home, but we both experience those tedious expanses of time when nothing seems worth doing on the spot, and only a lively exchange with like-minded list members will mitigate our boredom. So here is Keith's lament:

POSTING INTO AIR

I'm posting into air
I'm writing to a silent site
The other Steamie folk are sleeping as I write

I'm posting into air
I'm writing but I don't know why
It really isn't fun if you get no reply

I'm feeling quite alone
I'm writing but without effect
I'm surplus to requirements, just an old reject

No one gazes open-mouthed
Taken by surprise
Nobody's on the board to use their eyes

I'm surfing on the 'net
I'm Googling in the knowledge space
Refresh, but there's no change; it's such a lonely place

I'm dawdling through the day
The seconds trickle past like tears
The minutes and the hours, the days and weeks and years

I'm posting into air
I'm posting into air

©KeithDonovanJanuary2006

The picture, by the way, should have given you a clue as to the right tune to go with Keith's lyric: "Walking in the Air", the theme from "The Snowman" by Howard Blake.

Christmas trees

Shortly before Christmas I visited a Festival of Christmas Trees in our local Roman Catholic Church. There were 40 trees, each decorated by a different group in the community, including schools, playgroups, Brownies, charities and so on, and also sponsored by local bodies, shops etc. I have never seen such a thing before and the effect was incredible. A friend commented, a touch drily I thought: “Nice to see the church embracing the pagan so thoroughly”.


I don’t have any difficulty with different belief systems borrowing each other’s symbols. Does anyone find it strange that for so many of them the lighting of candles is a significant part of their ritual? For myself, I feel in my heart that a living flame is a powerful symbol of hope, prayer or celebration, and although I consider myself an agnostic, I will always light a candle in a church when I have an opportunity. By the same token, I can go into an empty church and feel the power of the human love, endeavour and aspiration that is stored within it, even though I do not choose to worship there with its congregation.

It seems to me that most religions offer much the same things: explanations for the apparently unexplainable; some sort of structure and guidance for our lives; comfort, support and courage; a sense of community with one’s fellow human beings; and perhaps a vehicle for a sense of wonderment at what we see about us. If this is so, then the different religious belief systems could all be considered as allegories for the truth – the one universal truth (as it must be) which humankind has not yet understood in its totality, but in which all believers in their own way have faith.

This idea I find very liberating: as an agnostic I too am looking for the same things, so I should be able to go into any church, join any group of worshippers, and share in their observance, while still remaining true to my own beliefs. The fact that I cannot subscribe to their dogma is not significant, as by sharing in their worship I am still celebrating the truth, the reality of our creation and existence, whatever that may be.

The truth is One, but different Sages call it by Different Names.

Epiphany

Today is the Christian Feast of Epiphany, which celebrates the manifestation of the divine nature of Jesus. This day makes me think of certain moments of epiphany of my own, when a sudden insight or perception of reality has led to beneficial change in my life.

The first of these which I recall was when, at the age of 25, I suddenly realised that despite the prevailing culture for ‘nice’ girls in the 1950s, I did not have to remain a virgin until I married just because my mother said I should! From that moment I gave up the unequal struggle and changed from the tortured, neurotic creature that I was into a reasonably relaxed and tolerably happy person. Three years later I was married and became a ‘good’ girl again … from choice I might add!

Some 50 years on another moment of revelation occurred, thanks to the loving support in a crisis of a group of very dear friends. I suddenly understood, in the simplest terms, an aspect of my behaviour which I very much wanted to change. Out of this illumination came the following poem. I leave you to guess which verse is about me.

“This is me - please love me!”

She’s rather loud, and vulgar too, and says what’s on her mind.
Although she doesn’t mean to, she can sometimes be unkind.
If challenged, she will say to you “I speak just as I find”.
But what she really wants to say is: “This is me - please love me!”

She’s forceful and efficient and she likes to take control.
She organises everything and swallows problems whole.
She’s critical and bossy, and she thinks she knows it all.
But what she really wants to say is: “This is me - please love me!”

She talks a lot about her health, and worries till she’s ill.
She thinks she cannot do things - say’s “I might” and not “I will”.
And when she’s nothing else to do she takes another pill.
But what she really wants to say is: “This is me - please love me!”

She’s fawning and compliant and she never has a view.
She likes to tag along with you in everything you do.
And if you ask her what she wants, she says “It’s up to you”.
But what she really wants to say is: ” This is me - please love me!”

© Judith Taylor 2002

If you recognise someone you know, try listening to the real message and responding in a loving way. It can work wonders …
for both of you!

[Picture by Google Images]

Happy New Year!

I am celebrating the start of the New Year with a picture which may seem rather boring, but for me it represents a splendid new beginning. My son Richard arrived for Christmas with a reconditioned computer for me and spent the holiday installing Windows XP and transferring all my data. My moribund 6-year-old PC with Windows 98 has gone to the dump, and I am rejoicing.

I have also acquired a neat little keyboard which is about 5" shorter than the standard one, and enables me to keep my mouse arm close to the body, and so avoid wrist and shoulder strain. The numeric keyboard is embedded in the main keyboard, and for a touch-typist like myself it is as comfortable to use as the standard one. The only awkwardness I find is that the Control key is no longer in the bottom left hand corner, and so I now have to look for it. The keyboard came from www.keyboardco.com (a UK company) and is the KBC-SB001. Click on Small in the Search section.

Richard kept his patience magnificently as he wrestled not only with all the corruptions and nasties which had made a home in my old PC, but also with my inability to concentrate on technical matters, and my tendency to answer questions with irrelevancies. I owe him a great debt and in recognition of this here is a rather fuzzy picture of him at work at my desk. It was taken in a hurry to test the wonders of WindowXP Camera Wizard. (I wrote about Richard in my October blog under the heading of Spare Parts..)

I send my heartiest good wishes for the coming year to all my blogger friends ~ Judith

Body Mass Index

There are plenty of websites which will calculate your BMI for you, but I haven't found one which warns you to be sure to use your current height, and not the height you remember being when you were young. Most of us are aware that we tend to shrink as we get older, but I got a nasty shock when I found I had dropped from 5'6" to 5'4". This has a considerable effect on the calculation, and can make the difference between being in the safe range and being outside it.

I found this out when I went for my annual check-up last year at the Heart and Stroke Clinic run by my GP Practice. This year a new dimension has been added - and boy! do I mean 'dimension'? The nurse not only measured my height and weight, but my waistline as well, with a tape measure tastefully divided into different colour sections for different degrees of risk. I already knew that I was overweight, and I didn't want to be told also that I needed to lose three inches off my waist! But weight around the waist is weight on the heart, it seems.

So, after Christmas, I have to do something about this, if I want to carry on blogging for as long as I have something to say. Which reminds me, I discussed with a mate the possibility of writing my own valedictory blog, saving it in Draft, and giving him my password so he could post it for me when the time comes. Cute idea don't you think?!

Oh yes - the good news is that my cholesterol level is down to an unprecedented 3.8!

Jake Thackray rewritten

The crowning glory of my birthday, however, was Keiwit’s offering of a rewrite of one of my favourite Jake Thackray songs, The Lodger. It was a saucy song in its time - (you will find the original lyrics here: http://www.jakethackray.co.uk/content/view/121/26/) and is admirably suited to Keiwit’s interpretation, in which he most accurately conveys my message. If you can possibly find yourself a recording of the song to listen to, I recommend that you do so, as it will help you to appreciate Keiwit’s talent as a parodist. If you follow the link on the left of the page for The Jake Thackray Website, you will find a discography.

Judith's Ideal

My neighbours’ sons were so tall and strapping
They used to play outside my house each day
They used to come even while I was napping
But I’d never tell those boys to go away
There was Billy: he was silly
There was Robbie: t’was his hobby to be critical about my fashion sense
There was Brian: he would try and be so blokey but provoked me
What a joke he had no courteous intents

But they grew up: they reached a new maturity
I saw possibilities of having fun
I’d endured a life of boring purity
So I promised I’d not turn down anyone
And sure enough, they called my bluff
When I was chilly, little Billy
He saw me huddled, so we cuddled for a while
He was sweet: but not discreet – his wand’ring hands, had other plans
He made demands but that is really not my style

"Billy, go away! Don’t make a pass"
"Now, Billy" I must say, "Take your hands off my arse"
"Stay off me henceforth, you must be made to see"
"You must go further north – to engage me!"

Well, after all, I'm still young and rather pretty
And I have time to choose my perfect man
So preferably I'd go for someone witty
And I’d never just go out with what I can
I’m not snobby but then Robbie
Tried his luck, the little schmuck
But his lids they never did stray from my chest
I did advise him to my eyes, but he declined quite unrefined
So I untwined and made a citizen’s arrest

"Robbie, go away! Robbie you’re a pest"
"Now, Robbie," I must say, "I’m really not impressed"
"It seems once again, I’ve picked the wrong boy"
"You must use my brain – I’m not a toy"

I felt quite down, and worried for the future
I thought there would be no one there for me
I might not ever use my Kama Sutra
But then came Brian my lucky number three
He was perplexing, never vexing
Quite engaging, hormones raging
Intellect he could collect me any time
And it was good, he understood, with that fine man, a love began
Because he can share my great passion for a rhyme

"Brian, come to bed! I won’t ask you twice"
"Now Brian look," I said, "I can be very nice"
"I'll do what you like, I think we connect"
"That’s because you’ve shown me proper respect"
[© Keiwit -November 2005]

I was so touched by this tribute that I had tears running down my face as I shut down my computer and went to bed that night.

Birthday badinage

BIRTHDAY BADINAGE

November 29th was my 78th birthday. I don’t usually make much of birthdays, but this one was remarkable for an unexpected outbreak of versifying in my honour. To set the scene I should explain that it happened in an online discussion forum to which I belong, and where, because it is a small group, most of whom know each other personally, a fair degree of outspoken banter and badinage is current. I should also mention that an entirely erroneous myth has grown up in this forum that my mind is set on acquiring a toyboy! Keith D opened the greetings with:

Happy birthday Jude.
At seventy-eight
I’ve gotta say, dude,
That you’re looking great.

But then he added the following, occasioned by a remark of mine that ‘Callipygea’ would make a nice pseudonym. (It seems ‘callipygean’ means ‘having beautifully proportioned buttocks’):

Of things callipygean
you’ve more than a smidgeon
but no one could say you were plump.
Could it be that your gluteus
is really quite beauteous
or do you just have a nice rump?

Further comments and conjectures relating to my rump ensued, until I observed rather sharply that a change of topic was called for, particularly as my rear end is nothing to write home about - (or as Keith said "Judith’s bum is just ho-hum"). Later I apologised for being peevish, and Keith produced the following (loosely based on Elvis’s ‘Trouble’):

Woke up this morning
I was seventy-eight
Had to see the cardiologist
Had a lot on my plate
Had to take a lot of comments
About my rear
And you still expect me to grin from ear to ear

Well, I'm peevish.
Acerbity's my middle name
Oh yes, I'm peevish
But so far I've been pretty tame

Just one more allusion
To my backside
And I'll raise a contusion -
Take weeks to subside
You may think that I'm easy
'Cos I'm getting old
But I can tell you things, boy, you ain't never been told

Because I'm peevish
And I'm starting to lose my cool
Oh yes, I'm peevish
So don't mess around with me, you fool.

Wanna make me happy?
Then praise my tits
And maybe my legs
But no other bits
And the jokes about toyboys
Just get on my wick
Make me feel like clouting you with my broomstick

Oh yes, I'm peevish
'Cos you're all picking on little Jude
You better stop now
Or we'll have a reg'lar old feud.

[To be continued tomorrow]