The Monkey

Is your brain an ordered  library with a strict librarian in control? Or is it more like a zoo full of escaped animals. If my mind was a library the stern, smartly dressed librarian is hiding under a table and various, strange creatures are roaring and shouting and ruining my day. The creatures make me feel different form well dressed, together women, I'm simply a different breed, I'm a little fidgety, a bit immature and very random. 

The boss of the animals that rampage around my brain is the monkey. It  runs around  causing chaos. This money is only about a foot tall but it can be everywhere at once, it tells my brain I don't need sleep, the monkey wants chocolate, social media, to fidget with everything and wants to tell everyone what I really think of them all at once and sod the consequences. The monkey wants love from social media but can't be bothered to call my real friends, it wants trainers, it wants shiny things and no amount of anything is ever enough.

You would have a guess a monkey is in control, I blank out, change the subject in confusing ways, fidget and I never look like I'm listening. The grown up me can shut the monkey up and The Librarian can crawl out form under the table to keep the animals in order and I can behave like a normal grown up. 

At other times The Monkey gets determined, it sees I want to improve but it hisses at me "If you cage me, you cage yourself". It takes over and messes up anything I try to do, it forgets things, it distracts me from the easiest task, it loses jobs, keys and my self esteem soon disappears as well as my dreams.

This Monkey is childish, it's a pest, but it has endless ideas and energy. This creature runs around the library of my brain getting a book from here, a page from there ideas get together in new ways. The Monkey thinks up random solutions to normal issues. This creature is brave, it jumps in cold seas because it seems like a good idea, it wants me to fly down hills on my bike a little too fast. This chattering creature talks to people because it's hyper curiosity trumps shyness. Some even find the monkey charming, it's certainly funny, it makes connections, it says the truth in twisted ways. 

On a good day the monkey dreams up a crazy blog or tells me taking a picture of a building site and the edit it with trippy colours is a good idea. The creature tells me to not take a pretty selfie but one in a creepy mask. The monkey can even help me at work when I need to deal with four things at once with a smile. The monkey gives me guts and energy, the monkey makes me quirky and fun. 

So is the monkey an emery and a friend? The Monkey is not good for anyone's self esteem but it's fun, it's creative, it makes people with ADHD fun and unique. The problem is life is tough with a wild monkey running around my head...

https://www.additudemag.com/neuroscience-of-adhd-brain/

https://adhd-institute.com/burden-of-adhd/epidemiology/gender/

https://www.additudemag.com/slideshows/benefits-of-adhd-to-love/

Ghosts

I bomb into town on my bike, first I ride through the park. It’s a cool, early summer afternoon, families are out playing football, kids are learning to ride bikes, and the air is clear. The only that that’s strange is the swings and roundabouts are untouched even though there are children who would love to use them. Groups of people stand an abnormal distance apart talking about the sickness.

Birdsong, the homeless and the occasional ambulance are the loudest noises. We no longer walk in couples or tribes: we walk alone. People are ghosts, no longer connected to or jobs or each other, we are in a new world that doesn't work the way it used to. There are new, petty seeming, bizarre rules to protect us from disease in a world that looks oddly clean.

Clothes shop windows are stuck, they display spring coats and jeans, not summer swimwear and shorts. Many windows are blank with their glittering prizes packed away. No one sits in cafes sipping overpriced coffee complaining about their children’s antics, analyzing their boss or congratulating each other on small achievements, people only talk through the safety of screens or on the phone, this is slightly inhuman and a little less connected  than before. Some lonely ghosts swig furiously from bottles of booze, they have nothing else to do and no reason not to be drunk, as the scaffolding of people’s lives has gone.

A lost tribe of the homeless stick out, they argue loudly and carry on as normal. These people were always there but now nothing drowns them out. They play out high drama and crisis for the few ghosts left to see. These drifters are also a reminder that the world before the virus was troubled and chaotic.

Some people see this vacant town as a new playground. Some make the most of their emptier lives and small privileges by taking up jogging. One lad skateboards through town enjoying the vacant streets that are devoid of endless activity where  new laws and new freedoms can be found. People may walk around like ghosts but the world to some is a new environment.

Black Lives Matter Vigil

June 10 2020

Fun was cancelled thanks to The Virus. It was the year of disappointment. Gigs, festivals and fun would simply have to wait. 

I rode my bike through the High Street towards my boyfriend. The town was mostly full of young protesters, they seemed spirited and with their banners and masks. We poured into the square trying to keep in our germ free bubbles and most people succeeded to a small degree. The speakers were quiet so the crowd repeated what they said by chanting. 

People from the BAME community spoke about their issues, there were lots of shocking statistics about how BAME people are treated by the police. Community leaders from Respect spoke movingly, making us remember that we don't live in a fair society but a reminder people are working extremely hard to change this. 

We all knelt down in honor of George Floyd, it was a somber and moving tribute.  

The atmosphere was charged and serious, partly because of the pictures we had all seen of the way black people have been treated by the American police and partly because of Corona virus. There wasn't the usual background noise of a busy Saturday so our attention was on the speakers and we were out in the pandemic. The masks made a difference too, people couldn't tell if each other were smiling, this made for a slightly strained atmosphere. Rain and cold on a summer afternoon added to the determined feel to the vigil.

Exeter caught the spirit of righteous anger. The year before radicals and people who wanted a better world had fun events as a form of protest and spreading the word, we had Respect festival, a sober but fun day of dancing, choirs, live music and stalls. We had Gay Pride, as day of parade, fun, self expression and drinking with the cause of accepting and understanding everyone. These events are great but this Black Lives Matter Exeter event felt important.

 2020 feels like the year of the disaster with empty streets all over the world and then pictures from America that look like civil war. The world seems a frightening and darker place thanks to shock after shock. Maybe the conditions for big changes are here now, it's up to us if the world gets better or worse.

Recovery

She sat alone, her six-year old hands touched the warm tarmac, they felt the tiny stones, she looked up at the scattered white clouds and bright blue in between, she heard the other children and this is all she needed. She could feel every bump of the tarmac, she could enjoy every shape of the clouds.The colours and materials all around gave her a joy that the other girls and boys gained from running around, gossiping and praise from teachers.

The other girls tried to be kind, when they got no response they tried to be mean but neither would make her speak: the girl knew exactly what the others were saying it’s just the rest of the world was more interesting. Sometimes the girl would listen to the kids playing but she never thought to join them, the chatter was too much. The girl was delighted when the others gave up and left her to enjoy the world.

A sharp, piercing noise broke through her perfection, it was the bell:  her stomach churned at the thought of another human’s words, rattling chairs and being made to talk. The teacher let the girl sit at the back of the class with a kindly assistant who tried to help. She would speak in soft, sing song tones but the girl would be too busy staring at a perfect shade of green on a painting. Eye contact meant nothing, cuddles bought screams, and words were frightening.

At the end of the school her mum walked over to the painted square her daughter always stood in. The paint was fading like The Plague. The other kids happily burst out of their germ free bubbles but her daughter seemed to stay.

Mum dodged the stares and pitying smiles from the other parents. Again her daughter refused to hold her mum's hand. She remembered her daughter as a baby, she was born with symptoms  everyone feared this big-eyed infant and no one would touch her. The day her daughter stopped crying was the day her mum couldn’t stop weeping, mum realized her daughter was now a victim of The Plague forever.

Supernatural

The first time we held hands
In that Hipster cafe
It was supernatural
Magick passed between us
A spell was made
Two lives were changed.

The people on that cafe knew
Something big happened
Holding hands felt indecent
Did the lights fuse?
Was there a magick strange blue light?
Did cups and saucers fly around the room?

The magick just got stronger
As we lay in bed
On ordinary afternoons.
As we spilled more secrets
Something in our souls became clean
life became more.

We saw the beautiful
in each other,
In everything, our minds our bodies
A magick blue light continued
Beautiful chaos was all around
And we could feel the universe spinning.

We could see the colours of the world
So you remember the beach
We became one
With the nature, sand
And the sea
Magick made real.

Life pulled us apart
By forces we could never predict
Now the magick becomes more
I can conjure up spells
In my mind
I see your face again.

Shopping in the time of Coronavirus

The bright blue sky had stayed for weeks. We got to the supermarket, my son’s skateboard by his side. There was a modern winding path to the carpark, me son asked,

“Should I skate”

Usually he wouldn’t ask and just jump on his board the world was different now.

“Sorry”

He nodded, sad that his world was a little less of a playground.

The first summer dresses were out, the sunglasses were out and men wore shorts. This should have been a joyful Spring day.The only things that looked out of place were gloves, masks and a line of super ordered, obedient people lined up outside.

The people were stood on crosses marked out with tape on the ground, they were at the new super polite distance of 2 meters apart. Occasionally a few people were allowed in and people would shuffle forward. Most people were alone but some were out in their “family groups”. There was no gossip, there were distant smiles but no conversation, this was the new shopping order

We did the distance shuffle and wound our way around the carpark.

Not long ago sometimes I went shopping with my boyfriend, we’d giggle our way around the supermarket, cracking jokes and being loud, treating ourselves to way too much chocolate.Sometimes if my boyfriend knew if I was single mum poor he’d give me some cash and sometimes he’d cook curry and we’d banter over if we should play Punk or Rap, we’d talk over dinner and I’d complain about life. Now liquid relationships were on hold, everything had to be defined, love was either long distance, or you were locked down together. Part of me knew this was to protect us all the other part was furious and frightened at governments interference in our personal lives.

The distance dance continued in the shop. Tape defined  the space between up between humans. Some people made light of the distended dance and dodged around comically, others took the dance deadly seriously, they gave defensive looks protecting their safe, germ free bubble.

We looked around. the half empty shelves. Some baked beans were back, I was delighted at this small bonus. Cheap honey was out,a normal sized normal priced bottle of cooking oil was out so I bought a huge bottle. We had never seen shortages, before the virus we were spoilt children who’d complain if a supermarket didn’t have the right flavour cake, now we had to take what we could get.

We dragged or thought through shopping to the till. The young cashier is hidden behind a thick, clear, plastic screen. My son went to help me pack and an employee told him to stay clear. I pass heavy items to put in his college bag.

We leave, as we walk out the world looks sunny and all in order  A petty trip to the shops just showed how much a tiny virus could change the petty, domestic details of our lives.

The New Normal.

The sky had been a delicate blue for weeks, the bird song was louder than the cars and a happy family played in the gardens behind the flats. The world looked like a cleaner version than the last. That was until you ventured further than your garden, and then everything got strange. The gaudy screen at the bus stop no longer flashed up tempting beaches advertising holiday deals, they no longer showed a lovely figure in tight fitting jeans they showed state sanctioned PSAs.

“Save lives, stay inside”. Along with a picture of someone in protective clothing.

If you dared get on a bus, you would be the only one, or if there was someone else one would sit at the front, the other at the back. You never gave cash but waved your cash card over the machine until it beeped. There were few other cars on the road.

In town a few shops were open. Only a few people were allowed in at the same time, and there was a new dance, one where everyone stays away. Some people would have gloves, some had scarves around their mouths, others wore masks.

The clothes shops were closed, some had stacked up furniture and no clothes in them. This was prof vanity and endless consumption were meaningless now, we had to make do with our out of fashion but over filled wardrobes. Every trendy haircut was turning into a mess or a buzz cut, identity from the outside was becoming less important than not catching the tiny virus that was. changing the world.