Reaching Out in the Blogging World

With all the incredible blogs out there today, bloggers are finding themselves with more reason to make their blog stand out. This isn't competing, it's just natural human behaviour; we all want to stand out, we all want (and need) to achieve something. Those who blog and take it as seriously as I do feel they have a duty to themselves to produce an interesting site where people will be happy to return. This is quite difficult when we first start out in the world of blogging, mainly because we have to spend a while getting used to what blogging is all about. Many people fall at the first hurdle but that's because they give up. So many blogs are now available and continue to offer fascinating content to a varied readership. Patience, perseverance and interaction is a large part of having a successful blog. I'm not the most patient person in the world but I did persevere in the beginning. Following blogs and leaving comments to make contact is something we can all do if we're looking to increase our own following, not to mention our stats.

I hold my hands up, I'm a competitive blogger, but that's because I love blogging so much. I take it seriously because it's my main hobby in life. But something I very rarely do is check my stats. I don't even know how to do it properly and when I have had a quick look in the past, it might as well have been written in a foreign language. The fact that I try to publish at least four blog posts every week, have a loyal readership and a large following, doesn't mean I am obsessed with knowing who comes to my blog every day, and how many people click on it. What matters more to me is the fact that my blog has become such a massive part of my life and that really, I'm quite good at it. I haven't achieved much in my life so knowing I have a successful blog is something I'm very proud of. What I truly love about blogging is the variety of content on individual blogs, there to be read, there to be digested. We all know that occasionally, some blogs receive vicious responses and cruel remarks, but we can always delete them. We, the people, are what keeps the world on its toes. We are the core of research and discovery. Our blogs are important; every one of them. I often think when reading some comments on other blogs, or reading the post itself, that many people aren't given a chance to shine. Whether that's because of the intensity of our blogging community these days I don't know.

I know some of you have seen my Blog Promotions page above, where I share a link to a blog post I've found particularly interesting. I'm going to continue doing this because I feel that every blog deserves a mention. We all have busy lives and some of us have little time to blog. But when we do, it's what's called making an effort. And that, in my humble opinion, deserves recognition.

It's Okay to be a Loner

I was pleasantly surprised the other day when my mum expressed how she understood my reasons for being "me". You may think this sounds odd but all my life I've always felt like someone who doesn't belong, someone who hides in the corner and lets the world continue while she looks on. One of my best friends who has a holiday house nearby was up for the weekend and texted me to ask if I wanted to go over. But, even though I love her to bits, I declined her invitation.

She came up with three of her friends who she's known for many years. I've only known her for a couple of years and have never met her friends. She's such a sociable character, has got an endless supply of friends and isn't afraid to meet new people. How we've become such good friends I'll never know because I'm totally opposite. My unsociable personality is sometimes the bane of my life but it's just who I am. I can't help being like this and I don't want to change. I enjoy being me. Sometimes, when I'm feeling isolated, I'd like to be invited to a party and accept the invitation, but I know I won't go and that's most likely why I never get invited anywhere. I guess it's a vicious circle in a way, but it always comes down to me choosing not to accept. I never complain about not being invited; people know me, they seem to understand. My mum, on the other hand, is very sociable and she loves partying, socialising and making new friends. That's the way she is. When I told her about me declining my friend's invitation to join in the fun, she said, "that doesn't matter, you're a loner. We'd be boring if we were all the same."

It may sound strange to some people, and perhaps a little disturbing to others, but I enjoy being a loner. I've always been one. My online life is so different to my personal one. Many people I talk to online assume I'm confident, chatty, someone with a big personality, but in reality I'm totally different. There was a time when I would have craved the high-life and yearned for my Friday night out, but life changes and we, as people, have to change with it. I have one or two friends who shake their heads at me, in a nice way, but I can see what they're thinking. I'm lucky though, because those friends understand me. And now it seems, after 41 years, so does my mum.

I'll Never Say Goodbye

He was only 58. He was respected, sophisticated, generous, loving and completely wonderful. When he smiled the room lit up. When he spoke, people listened. When he held me, I felt safe, warm, protected. When he died, I felt empty. 

My childhood came to an end; my life, as I knew it, continued along a different path. My heart ached, my smile waned, my ambitions changed. Nothing mattered. The lights had gone out, people no longer needed to listen, his arms no longer shielded me. 

I listened to songs to remind me of him. I stared at photographs to remember his smile. My head hurt as I frantically vowed never to lose the memories that made up our lives together. He loved me more than life itself. He taught me how to love so deeply; he taught me values, kindness and what it means to need someone so much in your life that you will do anything to keep them there. 

I have taken on some of his traits. Some, because I want him to live on through me. I could never be as successful as he was; I could never fill a church with over 400 people, all friends, all people who loved another person for being incredible. 

His life was cut short. The years ahead of him were cruelly snatched from his grasp. I lost my faith and couldn't forgive the heartless way in which my family were robbed. 

And then he came back to me. He called my name, watched me at work, inspired me to carry on and fulfil my life's dreams. He encouraged me to walk forward and to never look back. Even though he is no longer on the end of a phone or sitting in his red leather chair at home, I still listen to him, I still see a sophisticated and respected man. I still feel safe and warm, as his invisible arms continue to hold me. He taught me to love; he taught me well.

Dad

10 year anniversary 25th July 2011

Quickly Moving On

We seem to be racing towards the end of July at break-neck speed that one feels as though life wishes us to forget summer ever existed. I use the past tense of course, because I think summer in the north of England might be over already. Ever since I bought a new garden pool the weather has gone from bad to worse. The fields are looking healthy, though sooner, rather than later I fear, the Farmer is going to have a mood swing and his comments of "it's a pig of a day" will turn into "grrrr, this is getting *(+;^% ridiculous now". When did the days start going so quickly? When did we jump into a chorus of "Happy New Year" only to wake up and find ourselves buying barbecue spare ribs? Perhaps it's simply a sign of age; growing up does strange things to us as life has a habit of running away and we find it impossible to catch up.

It's just one of the reasons why I prefer to make the most of every day. Before they all start to mingle into one, I'd like to remember what I did on Monday and where I was on Tuesday morning. I'd like to wake up on a Friday morning and before I start looking forward to my Saturday night fish and chips, I can remind myself that the weekend hasn't quite begun. No matter how hard life becomes, how often you feel like throwing in the towel, there's always another day to look forward to. There has to be hope, no matter what. If your glass is half full you  can always look upwards.

As we get older our experiences will inevitably increase and our lives become richer. So often I hear people complain about turning "30" and how they might hibernate once they become "40". I even spoke to someone recently who was genuinely upset at becoming "21". I couldn't believe it. Time goes too quickly to worry about how old you are. Embrace your age and remember that with it comes knowledge, understanding and, in some cases, a bit of authority. Can't be that bad can it?! A friend of mine will be "50" next year and I think she's dreading it. But if you saw her you'd agree that she looks incredible and if you met her, you'd agree that she is incredible. We all are. It's life. And personally, I'd rather get old than not.....

The One with the Strange Smell

I had one of those experiences on Saturday that we parents with special needs children have to endure every now and then. For some of us it's on a regular basis, for others it's when our child chooses to do something that's a little out of the ordinary. Because Amy's virtually as tall as me now, I guess people mistake her for a much older child and when they see me holding her hand whilst we cross a road or walk round a supermarket, it could, on reflection, look a little odd. But you see, Amy's my daughter, my little girl, albeit rather big. And if some ignorant cow thinks we look ridiculous holding hands then they should look at themselves in the mirror and see that they look ridiculous, full stop. She was, I'd say, in her fifties. Superior air about her as she walked up and down the aisles in the supermarket. At one point Amy pushed the trolley which was obviously something of epic wrong-doing judging by the look I got. I don't say anything to these types of people because I pity them.

I suspect the woman who must have thought my daughter was far too old to hold onto her mum's hand, either a) hasn't got any children of her own, b) has never come into contact with special needs children, or c) is simply ignorant to the fact that parents love their kids and actually enjoy holding their hands. The last time we saw her was in the feminine hygiene aisle and she caught me looking at women's items. It was at this point that Amy, being a child who doesn't hold back, told me there was a funny smell and prompted me to look directly at Mrs Rude herself. Not realising the woman was there, I turned round to see her staring at me before she tutted, shook her head and walked off. I couldn't help but laugh, perhaps a little embarrassed at my daughter's honesty but most of all, because the smell was coming from someone else. Call me a bad mum, but I didn't bother correcting Amy.

It's Not All About You

I'm finding recently that I'm becoming more opinionated in my approach to online social networking and the conversations that I take part in. Whether this is a good thing or not, it's giving me an air of confidence that I've never experienced before. I'm not an expert in any field; I didn't do particularly well at school and would never call myself academic, but there are certain aspects of life in which I, along with many others, have a strong opinion and I'm reaching a point in my life where I'm not afraid to voice it. I don't think we have the benefits of "freedom of speech" in this, or any country mainly because of the amount of politically correct "police" who jump on us for saying the wrong word or using the wrong sentence, but if we can't have an opinion about something we feel strongly about, then what hope is there for our society?

I have always defended Amy and I always will, but I often back down when it comes to my own views for fear of being pushed aside. It stems from years of bullying at school; a group of girls who thought it funny to make my life a misery. I would try so hard to be part of their gang, agree with their every whim, pretend I approved of their cruel attitudes, but underneath I was seething with anger; a rage that would surely reach the surface one day and cause me to snap. It's taken a while but I do feel this has finally happened. I loathe bullies, in whatever capacity. I'm a grown up now and I'm capable of fighting my own corner and having my own opinions. If people don't like them they can move on to the next person. I refuse to get embroiled in conflict on networks such as Twitter and Facebook but I will not be pushed into changing my mind about something I feel I have a right to have an opinion on. Why is it okay for everyone else to have a strong voice yet when I speak my mind, it's wrong. What's wrong is that these people think they're always right; their ignorance prevents them from understanding that there could be people out there who think differently. People who could, actually, have a point. Too many people walk around this planet with blinkers on, choosing only to see, hear and listen to what they want to, when what they could be doing is learning along the way. Quite beneficial, don't you think?

Making Plans

I've started planning my next book. I'm actually quite excited about it though I haven't written anything yet, apart from my own notes. It's going to be a murder mystery and I'll throw in some sex for good measure. I know what the story will be about and I know I will be limiting the characters to just four, maybe five. It won't be paranormal this time but it will definitely have an element of suspense. My aim is to start writing it properly when Amy starts her new school in September and, as I did with the last book, I won't give myself a time scale because one can never predict what will happen in future months. Though I'd like to have it finished within twelve months and perhaps even edited ready for submission, but I won't be rushing it. Occasionally, I'll publish an extract and ask you for some feedback but I won't be giving the plot away; I'll keep that to myself for now.

I think it's good to have something to work towards; an ambition or some kind of goal that you vow to achieve. Writing a book has always been mine and since I achieved that with Discovery at Rosehill, I've realised that being a writer is something that will never end. Many people say it's in your blood and I do believe they're right. Being a farmer is also something that's in your blood as it's an immensely demanding occupation. Writing is a matter of commitment, or adhering to deadlines and being unable to switch off. Quite a similar thing I guess. Maybe that's why the Farmer and I get on so well even though we have a twenty year age gap and he's drives me round the bend on a daily basis. I dare say I drive him equally as mad. But we support each other which is the main thing. Farming for him is a lifestyle. He farms, he lives. In that order. Writing for me is a passion. I live, I write. But I also live to write, I would never write to live or I'd probably be living in a cardboard box. I'll keep you posted on the new book of which the main characters will be known as Lydia and Tom. So much to look forward to; so much to do. Life is precious.

Leave My Child Alone

I was fuming the other day when the post arrived. You see a couple of weeks ago Amy brought a letter home from school with a space at the bottom for parents to sign. It was to inform us that two nurses would be going in school to weigh and measure our kids and we needed to give our permission that it would be okay for our child to take part. It also mentioned that the results would not be recorded or used for any other purpose apart from their own survey, I can't remember the exact wording. I thought it couldn't hurt and as always didn't want Amy to be left out, so I signed the slip and sent it back. Nothing else was mentioned until Amy came home on said afternoon and I read in her home/school diary about the two ladies who had measured and weighed her at school. She wasn't fazed by it so neither was I.

Then the other day I got a rather official looking envelope addressed to both me and the Farmer. Upon opening it I discovered quite a formal letter and several leaflets of information regarding Fitness for Life. The letter got straight to the point and announced that "unfortunately, we regret to inform you that your daughter is overweight..." It went on to say that we should be worried about this because of all the health risks she could face. Bearing in mind Amy's measurements had been "recorded" as 5ft 6" which is actually wrong, my daughter is extremely tall for her eleven years. I know she is a little overweight but she is 11 years old and should NOT be worrying about BMI and her appearance at this age. She is a beautiful, fit and healthy child and I refuse to allow the stigma of society's obesity obsessed nation give her a complex about being the wrong shape, the wrong height and someone who needs to watch what they eat. Not only was I deeply pissed off with the fact that now my child thinks she is an overweight ugly mug, but the fact that this action was taken with parents permission and seemingly done under false pretences. Amy didn't read the letter because I threw it straight in the bin, but what's upset me the most is that ever since the two nurses went in school, Amy has had an obsession with her tummy, constantly banging on about how much she wants to make it flat. She has also been telling me that she's fat. It's only since receiving the letter I have put two and two together and realised what all her anxiety has been about. I don't blame the school, the letter wasn't from them. I am disgusted that children at such a young and impressionable age are being brainwashed into how they should look. Amy is almost as tall as me and I'm 5ft 5" so where they get their tape measures from I have no idea.

Who Is Crystal Jigsaw?

I've had a lovely weekend with my mum. She arrived on Friday late afternoon with her usual bag of food after I'd told her not to bring anything, and left on Sunday afternoon with the same bag, only the food now stored in my cupboards. Result! My mum had it tough when dad passed away. She depended on him so much that to suddenly not have him there hit her like a ton of bricks. Naturally she grieved for him, travelling on that usual roller-coaster of emotions; upset, anger, disbelief, rage, searching for blame, loss of faith, something we all experience when we lose one so close. I guess you could say they still had years of living to do together, but he was only 58 when he died, so many years wasted and so much life robbed from them. Four years later she met a lovely man and they've been together ever since. He's become a huge part of our family and though I doubt my mum will ever get married again, their relationship is solid and very much a togetherness that is reserved for couples who aren't afraid to share.

As far as I'm aware, my mum doesn't read this blog. She has read Discovery at Rosehill but she's never shown an interest in my blog. She doesn't have a computer and isn't interested in the Internet, but sometimes I just wish she'd have a quick look to see what's going on in Northumberland. I often find it a shame if I'm honest because I've been dying to tell her about my success with Tots100 and all the many supportive friends I have made online, but I know she wouldn't understand. I do tell my dad however. He listens to me; from the grave. He reads my words and digests my thoughts; understands my passion for social interaction and appreciates my success as a blogger. I know he's proud as I know my mum is, too. But my mum is only proud of my achievement with regards the book. I sometimes feel she's missing out on seeing the other side of my life, the side I enjoy, the blogging and the tweeting, the social networking as a whole. But my dad was always the one I felt I needed to impress. Perhaps I was a daddy's girl, or perhaps I just idolised him beyond the pedestal on which I placed him. For now, I'll look forward to seeing my mum again, but I doubt I'll ever explain the concept behind Crystal Jigsaw.

Precious Items

Last night I went on Twitter and was totally, completely and gobsmackingly overwhelmed by a gazillion tweets congratulating me on being No.1 on the TOTS100 Index. Did you get that? I'm number one, número uno, Top of the Index!!! I can't believe it. I'm incredibly honoured as I've been a part of the Index for a long time and have thoroughly enjoyed it. This is a massive honour and has totally made my month of July amazing.

I started thinking recently, about which items I would take with me if I had to leave my house in an emergency. I must have changed my mind a thousand times which eventually encouraged me to go to sleep. But still, it got me to thinking about people who really do have this scenario and how hard it must be to choose just a few precious items out of hundreds that you own. This is my list:

1. Carrot; she is my bunny rabbit that I have owned since I was five years old. She goes absolutely everywhere with me. You may find it really hard to believe but Carrot sleeps with me every night, goes on holiday with me, has stayed in hospital with me and is never forgotten. When I was fourteen years old, I went on a mini-cruise with my mum, auntie and uncle. Carrot, of course, came too. However, when we were packing to leave, for some reason Carrot got left behind. I still have no idea how that happened. As soon as we got home and realised, my mum rang the cruise line and explained what had happened and amazingly, within two days, Carrot was safely delivered to me in brown paper. That is a true story. I know.....bowing my head here....

2. Medication; perhaps an obvious choice, but if I didn't take my meds at regular twelve-hour intervals, I'd probably cake it. NB: That's my medication for epilepsy, not the issue above...

3. A photo of my dad; his face is permanently etched in my mind, but his eyes have such an incredible presence that I never fail to feel loved when I look into them. 

Over to you; what three things would you take with you - just the items personal to you only. If you blog it, let me know then I can come over and read it. CJ xx

Disrespectful Trespasser

This is a picture of our drive gate. It's a very typical farm gate and we usually keep it open. At this side of the gate (out of the picture) are a row of three holiday cottages.We get a mixture of people in them, mostly all friendly and very decent folk who just want a week's holiday in the countryside, peaceful location and idyllic views. We naturally don't allow people to wander on to the farm as the machinery would be a major safety hazzard, but we also do not appreciate people wandering through the drive gate who have no business being there. Something that happened yesterday left me in shock:

I was sat in the office upstairs when I heard the sound of children giggling. Always a pleasant sound, but as they were obviously quite close to the house I assumed someone had come to the door to buy eggs. I went downstairs with a smile on my face, always happy to serve. By now, the dogs had started barking to alert me someone was near. I opened the back door, the green one you can see in the picture, and saw two very young children playing on the garden so I went out. Just as I got to the holly tree, a woman came round the corner, obviously assuming the house was empty. I'd caught her snooping through our lounge window and before she even glanced over at me, she looked up to the windows upstairs. "Can I help you?" I asked. She suddenly stood back and began to stutter. "Err, I, err, was... just being nosy," came her reply. "Oh?" I said. "Yeah, just being nosy," she repeated. I stood my ground and stared at her. "Is this where you buy eggs?" she asked. "It is," I replied, continuing to eye-ball her. "I'll just go back and get some money," she said, before walking away, her two rather bewildered children in tow. I went back into the house and closed the door. I waited all day; she never came back for eggs. She was effectively trespassing. What kind of example is that showing two young children? That it's okay to go snooping around someone's house, that it's okay to peer through someone's windows, that it's okay to lie? My God. What hope is there for today's youngsters when they have parents like this? I'm just glad I was in.

Inspired by Love

Once more, I have been inspired to write a blog post by my beautiful daughter, Amy. It's come about after I kissed her goodnight and made my way back to my bedroom. She routinely called out to me as I was descending her staircase "Love you, mum", and apart from my heartstrings being tugged in all directions, I again realised just how much my daughter relies on me. Even now, I find it quite overwhelming to think I am responsible for a child, together with being her main influence in life. You see, before I'd said goodnight, I'd been showing her what air-kissing is, just a little five minutes of fun before bedtime. She found it hilarious and the kissing part materialised into some funny movements and a rather exaggerated accent. She laughed so much; one of my favourite sounds in the whole world.

I continued making my way to my bedroom as she continued to giggle. It made me smile, totally reminding me of the important aspects of life. It's a pretty amazing feeling having someone to take care of, and it's even more amazing when that person genuinely loves you more than anything in their world. Some nights I want to turn back and give her another hug; last night I did. I couldn't resist her soft skin and gentle arms around me, nor the adoring dimple when she smiles and lights up the room. "I just wanted another hug," I said, as I stroked her face softly and lent in to brush my lips across her baby-soft skin. "I love you, mum," she whispered. Not as much as I love you, I whispered back, my lips still, my thoughts mellow and my heart strings being tugged once more.

Hot Networking

It's been such a hot weekend in Northumberland that I only switched the computer on once; something quite unheard of for me. It only dawned on me after tweeting about the tennis on Sunday afternoon that I'd actually temporarily become detached from the online world of social networking, and I started to think about the friendships I'd made. It's no secret that most of my friends are people I've never met; people I talk to often throughout the week either on Twitter or through blogging. The majority of my Facebook buddies are personal friends, yet I class so many invisible faces as people I've become increasingly fond of from behind a screen. Technology has come a long way since computers were first invented and it can't be a bad thing that they also bring people together. Over the years I've joined websites and I've left websites, but as I've come and gone, I've made friends along the way, some of which I've kept in touch with. Obviously one can't be friends with everyone you meet online; the world would stand still if that were the case because we'd most probably all have the same views, opinions and tastes. But the ones I have become friends with are people I find interesting. I only hope they find me interesting, too.

I remember the days of no Internet, I remember them well. I'd never want to go back to them though. Since being a lover of the Internet, I have been blessed with the ability to make friends; to talk to people I'd probably never talk to otherwise; to laugh with people when I'd have thought them dull in real life; I've learned to appreciate other opinions and be encouraged by my own. You can switch the computer on (or phone as is often the case) and log onto Twitter and Facebook, have a chat, put the world to rights, laugh out loud and announce you're putting the kettle on if anyone wants a cuppa, because there's always someone there, ready to say hello, ready to remind you that you're never alone. So you see, my hot weekend at home has made me realise that really, I have a wealth of friends, most of whom I'll never meet, but people who, just like me, enjoy dipping in and out of the pool when the sun gets too hot.