Tag Archives: Work

BEAUTY IN THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

30 Jan

There is beauty in the kindness of strangers
Defending the weak from foul mouthed words
The vulnerable seeking support against abusive tirade
Black woman scorned and brown mate sworn at just for the colour of skin

There is beauty in the
Kindness of strangers
A bus full of “ethnicity”
Made to feel insecure by the majority
Unspoken words vocalised by a drunken minority
Anger fuelled by a dichotomy
Tissues at the ready
Snot smeared on the seat next to an ugly personality
Words of hate from lips of a woman who sounds like she’d had a lobotomy

Spitting sounds please call the psychiatry
Barriers created because there’s no chemistry
Skinny white woman shouts don’t look at me!
Black Swan responds don’t bother me
Brown English man in Green suit says no more bigotry

Hate filled words pollute the air with no dignity
Crash claimed hearts with vulgarity
Man came to part with some words of clarity
Took down the drunk with his love for community
Mate call the police for your sanity
Strange kind words spoke for humanity.

There is kindness in the beauty of strangers.

You’ll never find my face

5 Jan

You’ll never find my face on the cover of a magazine,
Rupert Murdoch and magnates are not keen
On portraying people of colour
With high self esteem
Rather show faces
Looking scarred and mean
“Look at the face of the second class race”
Never the achievements of black/brown face.

You’ll never find my face on the mainstream channel
Presenting the news or the Oscars panel
Winning an award
Like it’s a soiled white flannel
Marking the territory like a scared dog in its kennel
My scent might contaminate the all-white Chanel

You’ll never find my face representing LGBT
The gay community doesn’t redefine me
People of Colour or B.A.M.E
Dodging the bullets
Headlines fuel it
Prejudiced wars ready to buy it
Spreading lies and lies like bullshit

You’ll never find my face on a large billboard
Filling the screen like a media whore
Communities treated like an oozing sore
Stamped all over, spit at your door
A few black faces in mainly white spaces
Small minded opinions horrified
“Lessen the monoculture!” we cried
Let’s celebrate media diversified.

We Are All Human

The Truth about Me

6 Aug

Dear Blog, I have a confession.

I know I have been neglecting you recently but I have something to say. I’m ashamed to admit it and have tried to put it off ever since I met you. I didn’t want to tell you then because we were a new relationship and I was just getting to know you. I was meaning to tell you at the beginning but I got carried away with the excitement, the new experiences and meeting all your other bloggers. We shared laughter and tears, I liked some posts and was not struck on others.

Every evening I would want to tell you what I really, really thought but you’re positive nature kind of rubbed off on me. For a while I was happy meeting you and telling you about my home baked cakes, my daily observations and sharing some poems. I just wanted to belong and be part of your wider community.

As I said, I got carried away and although I enjoyed the experience, I felt there was a certain lack of honesty on my behalf.

So, dear blog. I have decided to tell you now what I have been meaning to say for months but have been putting it off. So, allow me to say, before it’s too late, that I am UNEMPLOYED.

There. I’ve said it. That is my confession.

I know its not a big deal to you but to me, it means everything.

I lost my job 2.5 years ago after working in the care sector for 14 years. I was, according to friends and colleagues, one of the best or good ones. I’m not proud. I lost my job in 2010. 10 months after I lost my beloved mum. Two years prior to that, I lost my dad. I hit rock bottom. I was lost and my soul destroyed.

I tried to remain strong, upbeat, optimistic and positive. But inside, I was dying, crying, breaking and losing my mind.

Not only had I lost things that I loved, I lost my way. I know for some people, getting a job is easy and a way forward. For me, it’s been an obstacle. I can’t seem to move forward at all. I am breaking inside and everyday I smile, but the frustration is killing me.

I was hoping, dear, dear blog, you would help me to overcome my fears, anxieties, feelings of depression and isolation. I was hoping that you could be a way forward and help me to be discovered. I realise now that the expectation did not fulfil my wants, desires or needs to be discovered.

I have tried so hard to be strong, tried to overcome my suicidal thoughts and feelings of loneliness, I can’t express how the dark thoughts and dreams fill me with dread. Nay, not dreams but nightmares. It’s been a long, long time and I can feel my inside welling up with supressed air. The oxygen wants to break…I can feel the tears stinging  my eyes. I am a lost cause and I feel as if I’m drowning.

My creative juices are drying up and my mind is full of blanks. I hate the way I’m living and I can’t hear any thanks…

It came to a head the other day, when I was on the phone to the energy suppliers. I said I couldn’t afford to pay the monthly instalments. They offed me advice and put me through to financial assistance. I’m now considered to be in the fuel poverty category.

I laugh. I mean, can you believe it? Me, not being able to pay my bills, Fuel poverty,,,It saddens me to think how my life was, to how it is now. I used to treat friends, pay for meals, buy new clothes, buy eau de toilette as a special treat to myself on a regular basis, pay cash for holidays, have small dinner parties and gatherings. I was a true consumer but, as my mum used to say, you’ve worked hard, so you need to treat yourself…

You’re so altruistic a friend said to me one day. I don’t mind I said in return. I like to give to others who are less fortunate then myself. I like it that way.

And where has it got me today? Where has being caring, sharing and thoughtful got me!??

Now it’s just me and my partner looking out for ourselves. We feed the neighbours cat. Plus one stray and I’m on “unofficial gardening leave”. I’m in the garden everyday tending to the plants, digging out weeds, removing dead leaves…

We are learning to put ourselves first. I’ve stopped thinking about other people. Do I really care? Do I!? Oh my god. It hurts and only you know now, dear blog. That my life isn’t all hunky dory, tickety boo.

The Learned Kat

Emptying the ManCave

26 Feb

The loft in my home has become my personal space, my world, my domain. When we moved into our house, the loft was without light, boarded floors and pitch black. We agreed to convert it into my study and the only place I could keep my desktop computer, books, CD’s and DVDs and anything else that was work related.

Not only did I use the loftspace to use my computer on a regular basis, but it also became my haven to become more “messy” and personalise it as my other half has OCD and cannot bear the idea of seeing magazines, books, cds, and all other such paraphenalia on display. So, we agreed that the loft would be my area to “spread myself” without any such restraints, without limitations or making my other half feel more anxious at seeing items on display. Although, it does not stop him sometimes from re-arranging “my stuff” around as he deems it to be “too messy”!

Anyway, after living in the house for 5 and a half years, I decided to have a thorough clear out…I’ve already mentioned I started to download photos onto memory sticks on a previous post. The clean up campaign didn’t just stop there. In fact, it was just the start of my blitz. Whilst waiting for the images to be transferred, I started to sift through all my old boxes, my work related documents (hard copies) , old bills, payslips, diairies and other such items. I didn’t realise that I carried so much bumph. But alongside all that, I walked down memory lane as I read and shredded each document, copies of application forms, altered CV’s, pages and pages of cover letters with the slightest mistake, memos and Minutes of Meetings…

I was finding it hard to let go of my past. It seemed that the items in question, although they may seem boring and trivial to others, were to me,  mementoes of my life. I found particulars/details and bills fom my first house, a small two bedroom terraced house purchased in 1999.  I pulled out payslips from the days I worked at a Daycentre for people with learning disabilities/difficulties and established friendships with my peers that have lasted for 10 years now. I found minutes from meetings where the people I supervised were more than just workers, they were people with endearing flaws and personalities which created a diverse and dynamic team, which I admired and found appalling at the same time. I found rejection letters and acceptance letters, which reminded me of my struggles to find work whilst living in Devon, I found notes which made me feel angry or sad all over again as it brought back flashes or images of people who had wronged me, I picked up training notes which placed a smile on my face or thought a waste of time as I never had the opportunity to use the “skills taught” in any of my job roles. It was a strangely heartfelt experience…

But it didn’t stop there…I started to look around at my prized collection of over 400 DVDs and shelves boasting a proud collection of over 1,000 CDs. With the recession biting hard in our household, I took stock of my indecision and began to sift through my DVDs. We have bills to pay, and for the first time in my life, I have had to sell some of my items. With each DVD placed on the side, it was heartwrenching to place the barcode on the WebuyDVDs website to find that the majority of DVDs, although purchased between £5 – 15 are only worth 31p each. As my friends’ 25 year old son says, most people are streaming online now…

I remembered where I was and why I bought a certain DVD. I recalled the feeling it left inside me when I watched the film. I was looking at my favourite film, the saddest film, the happiest film, the most sentimental or weepy, romantic or action…each film brought a reaction or emotion and I was having to sell a part of me to be practical…So far, 134 DVDs, which my other half was worth several hundred pounds, have been sold  for a song.  I knew they weren’t going to fetch an awful amount of cash, I was just holding on to what they were worth to me. A collection of specific films purchased over a period of 10 years… to be disposed of within a few days.

My next step would be to download my music collection…I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet but I know it will happen soon. On the one side, I try not to think about it, but on the other, it’s like a relief or self cleansing therapy. Will it all be worth it? I ask myself?

My loft was my space. But soon I think it’ll become an empty shell. Even the computer that I’ve had for 10 years now is showing signs of giving up… I suppose I could’ve used a garden shed or used one of the bedrooms as a study but it’s not quite the same in this house…

I feel my act of disposal is a reflection on todays society and how we lead our lives today. Is that how easily things, whether objects or items, tangible or innate, emotional/physical or practical can be disposed of? Is that how much it’s worth? Like in life, at work and in play, we are easily picked up, used and disposed of, from the “Purchaser” e.g. hirer/employer or even in relationships (partners/spouses/friends etc),  to wait for the next big or best thing…to the item or person being deselected and made to feel redundant, useless or unwanted.

My loft was MY space. But the recession has taken hold, and I feel I am losing faith…

The Learned Kat